o tell me about
it. I expected to be there by this time, and I can't wait to find out
what it's like."

Hedger began to relate how he had seen some of this Frenchman's work in
an exhibition, and deciding at once that this was the man for him, he had
taken a boat for Marseilles the next week, going over steerage. He
proceeded at once to the little town on the coast where his painter
lived, and presented himself. The man never took pupils, but because
Hedger had come so far, he let him stay. Hedger lived at the master's
house and every day they went out together to paint, sometimes on the
blazing rocks down by the sea. They wrapped themselves in light woollen
blankets and didn't feel the heat. Being there and working with C---- was
being in Paradise, Hedger concluded; he learned more in three months than
in all his life before.

Eden Bower laughed. "You're a funny fellow. Didn't you do anything but
work? Are the women very beautiful? Did you have awfully good things to
eat and drink?"

Hedger said some of the women were fine looking, especially one girl who
went about selling fish and lobsters. About the food there was nothing
remarkable,--except the ripe figs, he liked those. They drank sour wine,
and used goat-butter, which was strong and full of hair, as it was
churned in a goat skin.

"But don't they have parties or banquets? Aren't there any fine hotels
down there?"

"Yes, but they are all closed in summer, and the country people are poor.
It's a beautiful country, though."

"How, beautiful?" she persisted.

"If you want to go in, I'll show you some sketches, and you'll see."

Miss Bower rose. "All right. I won't go to my fencing lesson this
morning. Do you fence? Here comes your dog. You can't move but he's after
you. He always makes a face at me when I meet him in the hall, and shows
his nasty little teeth as if he wanted to bite me."

In the studio Hedger got out his sketches, but to Miss Bower, whose
favourite pictures were Christ Before Pilate and a redhaired Magdalen of
Henner, these landscapes were not at all beautiful, and they gave her no
idea of any country whatsoever. She was careful not to commit herself,
however. Her vocal teacher had already convinced her that she had a great
deal to learn about many things.

"Why don't we go out to lunch somewhere?" Hedger asked, and began to dust
his fingers with a handkerchief--which he got out of sight as swiftly as
possible.

"All right, the Brevoort