ome round in another day or
so, and I may be able to do something for you." He moved with a certain
conspirator-like caution to a corner of the room, and, lifting to one
side a pile of canvases, revealed a stout barrel, which, he regarded
with a fatherly and benignant eye. "I don't mind telling you that, in
the fullness of time, I believe this is going to spread a good deal of
sweetness and light."

"Oh, ah," said Archie, interested. "Home-brew, what?"

"Made with these hands. I added a few more raisins yesterday, to speed
things up a bit. There is much virtue in your raisin. And, talking of
speeding things up, for goodness' sake try to be a bit more punctual
to-morrow. We lost an hour of good daylight to-day."

"I like that! I was here on the absolute minute. I had to hang about on
the landing waiting for you."

"Well, well, that doesn't matter," said J. B. Wheeler, impatiently, for
the artist soul is always annoyed by petty details. "The point is that
we were an hour late in getting to work. Mind you're here to-morrow at
eleven sharp."

It was, therefore, with a feeling of guilt and trepidation that Archie
mounted the stairs on the following morning; for in spite of his good
resolutions he was half an hour behind time. He was relieved to find
that his friend had also lagged by the wayside. The door of the studio
was ajar, and he went in, to discover the place occupied by a lady of
mature years, who was scrubbing the floor with a mop. He went into the
bedroom and donned his bathing suit. When he emerged, ten minutes later,
the charwoman had gone, but J. B. Wheeler was still absent. Rather glad
of the respite, he sat down to kill time by reading the morning paper,
whose sporting page alone he had managed to master at the breakfast
table.

There was not a great deal in the paper to interest him. The usual
bond-robbery had taken place on the previous day, and the police were
reported hot on the trail of the Master-Mind who was alleged to be at
the back of these financial operations. A messenger named Henry Babcock
had been arrested and was expected to become confidential. To one who,
like Archie, had never owned a bond, the story made little appeal. He
turned with more interest to a cheery half-column on the activities of a
gentleman in Minnesota who, with what seemed to Archie, as he thought
of Mr. Daniel Brewster, a good deal of resource and public spirit, had
recently beaned his father-in-law with the family mea