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"
Landed
,
"
exclaimed
White
,
with
his
boyish
face
flushed
with
elation
.
"
Billy
,
you
are
a
wonder
.
He
wants
a
picture
.
I
'll
tell
you
all
about
it
.
By
Heavens
!
that
dictator
chap
is
a
corker
!
He
's
a
dictator
clear
down
to
his
finger-ends
.
He
's
a
kind
of
combination
of
Julius
Cæsar
,
Lucifer
and
Chauncey
Depew
done
in
sepia
.
Polite
and
grim
--
that
's
his
way
.
The
room
I
saw
him
in
was
about
ten
acres
big
,
and
looked
like
a
Mississippi
steamboat
with
its
gilding
and
mirrors
and
white
paint
.
He
talks
English
better
than
I
can
ever
hope
to
.
The
matter
of
the
price
came
up
.
I
mentioned
ten
thousand
.
I
expected
him
to
call
the
guard
and
have
me
taken
out
and
shot
.
He
did
n't
move
an
eyelash
.
He
just
waved
one
of
his
chestnut
hands
in
a
careless
way
,
and
said
,
'
Whatever
you
say
.
'
I
am
to
go
back
tomorrow
and
discuss
with
him
the
details
of
the
picture
.
"
Keogh
hung
his
head
.
Self-abasement
was
easy
to
read
in
his
downcast
countenance
.
"
I
'm
failing
,
Carry
,
"
he
said
,
sorrowfully
.
"
I
'm
not
fit
to
handle
these
man
's
-
size
schemes
any
longer
.
Peddling
oranges
in
a
push-cart
is
about
the
suitable
graft
for
me
.
When
I
said
ten
thousand
,
I
swear
I
thought
I
had
sized
up
that
brown
man
's
limit
to
within
two
cents
.
He
'd
have
melted
down
for
fifteen
thousand
just
as
easy
.
Say
--
Carry
--
you
'll
see
old
man
Keogh
safe
in
some
nice
,
quiet
idiot
asylum
,
wo
n't
you
,
if
he
makes
a
break
like
that
again
?
"
The
Casa
Morena
,
although
only
one
story
in
height
,
was
a
building
of
brown
stone
,
luxurious
as
a
palace
in
its
interior
.
It
stood
on
a
low
hill
in
a
walled
garden
of
splendid
tropical
flora
at
the
upper
edge
of
Coralio
.
The
next
day
the
president
's
carriage
came
again
for
the
artist
.
Keogh
went
out
for
a
walk
along
the
beach
,
where
he
and
his
"
picture
box
"
were
now
familiar
sights
.
When
he
returned
to
the
hotel
White
was
sitting
in
a
steamer-chair
on
the
balcony
.
"
Well
,
"
said
Keogh
,
"
did
you
and
His
Nibs
decide
on
the
kind
of
a
chromo
he
wants
?
"
White
got
up
and
walked
back
and
forth
on
the
balcony
a
few
times
.
Then
he
stopped
,
and
laughed
strangely
.
His
face
was
flushed
,
and
his
eyes
were
bright
with
a
kind
of
angry
amusement
.
"
Look
here
,
Billy
,
"
he
said
,
somewhat
roughly
,
"
when
you
first
came
to
me
in
my
studio
and
mentioned
a
picture
,
I
thought
you
wanted
a
Smashed
Oats
or
a
Hair
Tonic
poster
painted
on
a
range
of
mountains
or
the
side
of
a
continent
.
Well
,
either
of
those
jobs
would
have
been
Art
in
its
highest
form
compared
to
the
one
you
've
steered
me
against
.
I
ca
n't
paint
that
picture
,
Billy
.
You
've
got
to
let
me
out
.
Let
me
try
to
tell
you
what
that
barbarian
wants
.
He
had
it
all
planned
out
and
even
a
sketch
made
of
his
idea
.
The
old
boy
does
n't
draw
badly
at
all
.
But
,
ye
goddesses
of
Art
!
listen
to
the
monstrosity
he
expects
me
to
paint
.
He
wants
himself
in
the
centre
of
the
canvas
,
of
course
.
He
is
to
be
painted
as
Jupiter
sitting
on
Olympus
,
with
the
clouds
at
his
feet
.
At
one
side
of
him
stands
George
Washington
,
in
full
regimentals
,
with
his
hand
on
the
president
's
shoulder
.
An
angel
with
outstretched
wings
hovers
overhead
,
and
is
placing
a
laurel
wreath
on
the
president
's
head
,
crowning
him
--
Queen
of
the
May
,
I
suppose
.
In
the
background
is
to
be
cannon
,
more
angels
and
soldiers
.
The
man
who
would
paint
that
picture
would
have
to
have
the
soul
of
a
dog
,
and
would
deserve
to
go
down
into
oblivion
without
even
a
tin
can
tied
to
his
tail
to
sound
his
memory
.
"
Little
beads
of
moisture
crept
out
all
over
Billy
Keogh
's
brow
.
The
stub
of
his
blue
pencil
had
not
figured
out
a
contingency
like
this
.
The
machinery
of
his
plan
had
run
with
flattering
smoothness
until
now
.
He
dragged
another
chair
upon
the
balcony
,
and
got
White
back
to
his
seat
.
He
lit
his
pipe
with
apparent
calm
.
