" exclaimed the spectacled one behind him.
"Ravage and slaughter! Old Velvet will scalp you."

Ewing stood up, released by his neighbors, who now rose in a clatter of
toppled stools.

"What's the matter with it?" he asked.

"Finicky! You've _fussed_ it to death. Velvet will slay you for those
reflected lights alone--and your nice curly lines--oh, Lord!"

"But they're there, those lights," protested Ewing. "And it's the way
I've always drawn. I suppose there are different methods."

"There's only one way with Velvet, and that's Velvet's way." Then with a
damnatory waving-away of the offensive drawing he sauntered off to put
his stuff in his locker.

Ewing dined alone that night. He was in no mood for Teevan.

Back in his place next day, still incredulous of defeat so swift, he
waited for the master. He watched him going the rounds of the other
students, the light playing on the purple velvet of the garment that
gave him his title. His beard was a rich growth, his mustaches curled
upward at the ends, his large, heavy eyelids drooped in a perpetual
_ennui_. His usual criticism was a weary "Rub it out!"

When at last he stood beside Ewing's work he gave an effect of
collapsing, as if his whole being cried out: "This is too much!" He took
the drawing from the board and stuck it to the wall with two thumb
tacks. Then, picking up a bit of charcoal, he wrote across it, "A
perfect example of how not to do it."

He did not return to Ewing, but, after examining a few other drawings,
he turned to leave the room. As he passed, Ewing reached across two
neighbors--who protested--and caught the velvet jacket.

"Perhaps you can give me an idea," he said. The other looked at him as
if he had not seen him before.

"Use intelligence! Good God--use intelligence!" he almost wailed, and
made his escape.

Ewing mechanically placed a fresh sheet before him and began again, but
he rubbed out as fast as he drew. The next morning he found the paper
foul from many erasures, and started afresh. He could see now that his
first drawing, posted in irredeemable ignominy, was not all that it
should be. It lacked the freedom of work he had done in his solitude. He
tried to conjure back that old free feeling, but the days passed and it
drew farther away. Some of the students changed places and began on
other casts. The better men went every other week into the life class.
But Ewing stayed desperately by his crouching woman. He studied her
un