r was troubled by any personal theory
of art: all they asked of a portrait was that the costume should be
sufficiently "life-like," and the face not too much so; and a long
experience in idealizing flesh and realizing dress-fabrics had enabled
Mr. Popple to meet both demands.

"Hang it," Peter Van Degen pronounced, standing before the easel in
an attitude of inspired interpretation, "the great thing in a man's
portrait is to catch the likeness--we all know that; but with a woman's
it's different--a woman's picture has got to be pleasing. Who wants
it about if it isn't? Those big chaps who blow about what they call
realism--how do THEIR portraits look in a drawing-room? Do you suppose
they ever ask themselves that? THEY don't care--they're not going to
live with the things! And what do they know of drawing-rooms, anyhow?
Lots of them haven't even got a dress-suit. There's where old Popp has
the pull over 'em--HE knows how we live and what we want."

This was received by the artist with a deprecating murmur, and by his
public with warm expressions of approval.

"Happily in this case," Popple began ("as in that of so many of my
sitters," he hastily put in), "there has been no need to idealize-nature
herself has outdone the artist's dream."

Undine, radiantly challenging comparison with her portrait, glanced
up at it with a smile of conscious merit, which deepened as young Jim
Driscoll declared:

"By Jove, Mamie, you must be done exactly like that for the new
music-room."

His wife turned a cautious eye upon the picture.

"How big is it? For our house it would have to be a good deal bigger,"
she objected; and Popple, fired by the thought of such a dimensional
opportunity, rejoined that it would be the chance of all others to.
"work in" a marble portico and a court-train: he had just done Mrs.
Lycurgus Ambler in a court-train and feathers, and as THAT was for
Buffalo of course the pictures needn't clash.

"Well, it would have to be a good deal bigger than Mrs. Ambler's," Mrs.
Driscoll insisted; and on Popple's suggestion that in that case he might
"work in" Driscoll, in court-dress also--("You've been presented? Well,
you WILL be,--you'll HAVE to, if I do the picture--which will make a
lovely memento")--Van Degen turned aside to murmur to Undine: "Pure
bluff, you know--Jim couldn't pay for a photograph. Old Driscoll's high
and dry since the Ararat investigation."

She threw him a puzzled glance, having no time, in