is, pay as it ought. And you know, Isabel," he
added, "that with all due respect to my esteemed relation, he's
exceedingly awkward to get anything out of. Can either of you
gentlemen," he turned to the others, "suggest anything along these
lines? I would be willing to pay a liberal commission."

"Well," said the painter, "if he wanted to buy a Caneletto cheap, I
know where you could pick one up for him. It would rather damage my
reputation to recommend him to buy it, but you could do it all right,
Charlie. Guaranteed authentic by European experts--they're easily
fixed. And if he didn't like the Caneletto, you could get him a very
fair Franz Hals--by the same artist."

Miss Hurd, whose feelings had not been in the least lacerated by the
reference to her parent's notable eccentricity of retentiveness, but
who had been amused at the suggestion, interposed.

"I'm afraid it couldn't be done," she said. "Louis von Glauber passes
on every picture that father buys."

"That settles _that_, then," Pelgram rejoined.

"Well, Benny, anything to suggest?" Wilkinson inquired.

"I don't know," said Cole, slowly. The germ of an idea had flashed on
him. "I don't know," he repeated. The impecunious one regarded him
attentively.

"My dear Benny, an unconvincing prevarication is of less practical
value than--" he began, but he was interrupted by the appearance of a
young lady who came through the doorway.

The three men rose quickly, and even the languid face of Stanwood
Pelgram took on a look of a little sharper interest than he had so far
shown. From the tea table Miss Hurd cordially greeted the newcomer.

"Tea, Helen?" she asked. "You're quite late. What have you been
doing?"

"Thank you, Isabel," the other replied. "Quite strong, and with sugar
and lemon--both." She sat down and commenced to pull off her long
gloves. "I've been helping Cousin Henrietta Lyons select wall papers
for her new apartment. I still live, but I've had a very trying time."

"Was it so difficult?" Bennington Cole asked politely. He did not know
her very well.

"Well," responded Miss Maitland, "I can think of nothing more difficult
than selecting wall papers--excepting, perhaps, Cousin Henrietta Lyons.
As I picked out her papers, I think I'm entitled to abuse her," she
explained with some feeling. "Wall papers in themselves are bad
enough." She paused.

"Well, they ought to be," Wilkinson cheerfully put in, adroitly
diverting th