n Hals' shoulder.

"Look here, old friend," he said, "this will never do. It seems as if I,
by leaving you in the lurch to-day, stood in the way of your
advancement and of your fortune. That of course will never do," he
reiterated earnestly. "You the friend, who, like last night, are always
ready to give me food and shelter when I have been without a grote in my
pocket. You who picked me up ten years ago a shoeless ragamuffin
wandering homeless in the streets, and gave me a hot supper and a bed,
knowing nothing about me save that I was starving ... for that was the
beginning of our friendship was it not, old Frans?"

"Of course it was," assented the other, "but that was long ago. You have
more than repaid me since then ... when you had the means ... and now
there is the picture...."

"To repay a debt is not always to be rid of an obligation. How can I
then leave you in the lurch now?"

"Why cannot you stay and sit for me to-day.... The light is fairly
good...."

"I cannot stay now, dear old friend," said the other earnestly, "on my
honour I would do my duty by you now if I only could. I have business of
the utmost importance to transact to-day and must see to it forthwith."

"Then why not to-morrow?... I could work on the doublet and the lace
collar to-day, by putting them on a dummy model.... All I want is a good
long sitting from you for the head.... I could almost finish the picture
to-morrow," he pleaded in his peevish, melancholy voice, "and the
Burgomaster comes on the next day."

Diogenes was silent for awhile. Again that puzzled frown appeared
between his brows. To-morrow he should be leaving Leyden on his way to
Rotterdam; 1,000 guilders would be in his pocket, and 3,000 more would
be waiting for him at the end of his journey.... To-morrow!...

Frans Hals' keen, restless eyes followed every varying expression in the
face he knew so well.

"Why should you not give up your day to me to-morrow?" he murmured
peevishly. "You have nothing to do."

"Why indeed not?" said the other with a sudden recrudescence of his
usual gaiety. "I can do it, old compeer! Dondersteen, but I should be a
smeerlap if I did not. Wait one moment.... Let me just think.... Yes! I
have the way clear in my mind now.... I will be here as early as I was
to-day."

"By half-past seven o'clock the light is tolerable," said the artist.

"By half-past seven then I shall have donned the doublet, and will not
move off that platform unles