"It's an occupation in itself, isn't it? to be from New York," said the
artist, going on with his sketching, after the little motion, half nod,
half wave of the hand, with which he had acknowledged Garda's
introduction. Winthrop in the mean while had neither spoken nor bowed;
he had only, as slightly as possible, raised his hat.

"Why do you stop there?" said Garda. She came to him, took his arm, and
led him behind the easel. "The picture--the picture's the thing to look
at!"

The sketch--it was in water-colors--represented the little arena, which
was in itself a brilliant picture, done by Nature's hand. It was an open
oval space about fifteen feet in diameter, entirely bare of trees or
bushes, and covered with low green, through which rose lightly slender
leafless stalks, each holding up, several inches above the herbage, a
single large bright-faced flower; the flowers did not touch each other,
they were innumerable spots of gold and bright lavender, which did not
blend; on three sides the thick dark chaparral, on the fourth the dark
myrtles, enclosed this gayly decked nook, and seemed to have kept it
safely from all the world until now. The artist was making a very good
sketch, good, that is, in the manner of the new foreign school.

"Isn't it beautiful--wonderful?" insisted Garda.

"Very clever," Winthrop answered.

The artist laughed. "You hate the manner," he said. "Many people do; I
think I hate it a little myself, now and then." And he began to sing
softly to himself as he worked:

"'Oh, de sun shines bright in my ole Kentucky home,
'Tis summah, de darkies are gay--'"

"'Twas his singing, you know, that attracted my attention," said Garda
to Winthrop, under cover of the song. She did not seem to be explaining
so much as repeating a narrative that pleased herself. "I had climbed up
here to hide myself from you, when I heard singing; I followed the
sound, and--here he was!"

"You have met him before, of course?" was Winthrop's reply.

"Never in the world--that is the beauty of it; it's so delightful to
meet people you have never met before. And then to find him here in the
woods, where I didn't expect to see anybody, save perhaps you, later,
coming slowly along. And isn't it nice, too, that we shall have a new
person to add to our excursions, and parties! For they were getting to
be a little dull,--don't you think so? always the same people. He is a
cousin of Mr. Moore's," she added, "or rat