"I was lookin' at your oil paintin's," he said. "They're pretty fine, ain't they? Any of them your work, Caroline?""MY work?" The girl's astonishment was so great that she turned to stare at her questioner. "MY work?" she repeated. "Are you joking? You can't think that I painted them.""I didn't know but you might. That one over there, with the trees and folks dancin'--sort of picnic scene, I judge--that looks as if you might have done it.""That is a Corot."
"'Tis, hey? I want to know! A--a--what did you call it?""A Corot. He was a famous French artist. That was father's favorite picture.""Sho! Well, I like it fust-rate myself. Did 'Bije--did your father know this Mr. Corot well?""Know him? Certainly not. Why should you think such a thing as that?""Well, he bought the picture of him, and so I s'pose likely he knew him. There was a young feller come to South Denboro three or four year ago and offered to paint a picture of our place for fifteen dollars. Abbie--that's Abbie Baker, she's one of our folks, you know, your third cousin, Caroline; keepin' house for me, she is--Abbie wanted me to have him do the job, but I wa'n't very particular about it, so it never come to nothin'. He done two or three places, though, and I swan 'twas nice work! He painted Sam Cahoon's old ramshackle house and barn, and you'd hardly know it, 'twas so fixed up and fine, in the picture. White paint and green grass and everything just like real. He left out the places where the pickets was off the fence and the blinds hangin' on one hinge.
I told Abbie, I says, 'Abbie, that painter's made Sam's place look almost respectable, and if that ain't a miracle, I don't know what is. I would think Sam would blush every time he sees that picture.' Ho, ho! Abbie seemed to cal'late that Sam Cahoon's blushin' would be the biggest miracle of the two. Ho! ho! You'd like Abbie; she's got lots of common sense."He chuckled at the reminiscence and rubbed his knee. His niece made no reply. Captain Elisha glanced at the Corot once more and asked another question.
"I presume likely," he said, "that that picture cost consider'ble more than fifteen, hey?""Father paid twenty-two thousand dollars for it," was the crushing answer.
The captain looked at her, opened his mouth to speak, shut it again, and, rising, walked across the room. Adjusting his glasses, he inspected the Corot in silence for a few minutes. Then he drew a long breath.
"Well!" he sighed. "WELL." Then, after an interval, "Was this the only one he ever painted?""The only one? The only picture Corot painted? Of course not!
There are many more."
"Did--did this Corot feller get as much for every job as he did for this?""I presume so. I know father considered this one a bargain.""Did, hey? Humph! I ought to know enough by this time not to believe all I hear, but I kind of had an idea that picture paintin'
was starvation work. I've read about artists committin' suicide, and livin' in attics, and such. Whew! About two such bargain sale jobs as this, and I'd guarantee not to starve--and to live as nigh the ground as a second-floor bedroom anyhow. How about this next one? This feller in a dory--coddin', I guess he is. Did--did Mr.
Corot do him?"
"No. That is by a well-known American artist. It is a good piece of work, but not like the other. It is worth much less. Perhaps five thousand.""So? Well, even for that I'd undertake to buy consider'ble many dories, and hire fellers to fish from 'em, too. Humph! I guess I'm out of soundin's. When I thought fifteen dollars was a high price for paintin' a view of a house I was slightly mistaken. Next time I'll offer the paintin' feller the house and ask him what he considers a fair boot, besides. Sam Cahoon's a better speculator than I thought he was. Hello, Commodore! what's worryin' you now?"Edwards appeared to announce that dinner was served. Caroline rose and led the way to the dining room. Captain Elisha followed, looking curiously about him as he did so. Stephen, who had been sulkily dressing in his own room, entered immediately after.
The captain surveyed the dining room with interest. Like the others of the suite, it was sumptuously and tastefully furnished.
He took the chair indicated by the solemn Edwards, and the meal began.
The butler's sense of humor was not acute, but it was with considerable difficulty that he restrained his smiles during the next half hour. A more appreciative observer would have noticed and enjoyed the subtler points. Stephen's glare of disgust at his uncle when the latter tucked his napkin in the opening of his waistcoat; Caroline's embarrassment when the captain complimented the soup, declaring that it was almost as good as one of Abbie's chowders; the visitor's obvious uneasiness at being waited upon attentively, and the like. These Edwards missed, but he could not help appreciating Captain Elisha's conversation.
Caroline said little during dinner. Her brother glowered at his plate and was silent. But the captain talked and talked.
"Maybe you think I didn't have a time findin' your new lodgin's,"he said. "I come over on the cars, somethin' I don't usually do when there's anything afloat to carry me. But I had an errand or two to do in Boston, so I stopped over night at the hotel there and got the nine o'clock train. I landed here in New York all shipshape and on time, and started in to hunt you up.""How did you get our address?" asked his niece. "Mr. Graves couldn't have given it to you, for we only decided on this apartment a few days ago.""Ho! ho!" chuckled Captain Elisha, rolling in his chair, like a ship in a cross sea. "Ho! ho! You remind me of Abbie, Caroline.