'Yes, do hurry! I want to hug you!'
'Right-o!' said Archie. 'I'll take two taxis.'
It is not far from Washington Square to the Hotel Cosmopolis, and Archie made the journey without mishap. There was a little unpleasantness with the cabman before starting--he, on the prudish plea that he was a married man with a local reputation to keep up, declining at first to be seen in company with the masterpiece. But, on Archie giving a promise to keep the front of the picture away from the public gaze, he consented to take the job on; and, some ten minutes later, having made his way blushfully through the hotel lobby and endured the frank curiosity of the boy who worked the elevator, Archie entered his suite, the picture under his arm.
He placed it carefully against the wall in order to leave himself more scope for embracing Lucille, and when the joyful reunion--or the sacred scene, if you prefer so to call it, was concluded, he stepped forward to turn it round and exhibit it.
'Why, it's enormous,' said Lucille. 'I didn't know Mr. Wheeler ever painted pictures that size. When you said it was one of his, I thought it must be the original of a magazine drawing or something like--Oh!'
Archie had moved back and given her an uninterrupted view of the work of art, and she had started as if some unkindly disposed person had driven a bradawl into her.
'Pretty ripe, what?' said Archie enthusiastically.
Lucille did not speak for a moment. It may have been sudden joy that kept her silent. Or, on the other hand, it may not. She stood looking at the picture with wide eyes and parted lips.
'A bird, eh?' said Archie.
'Y--yes,' said Lucille.
'I knew you'd like it,' proceeded Archie with animation, 'You see? you're by way of being a picture-hound-- know all about the things, and what not--inherit it from the dear old dad, I shouldn't wonder. Personally, I can't tell one picture from another as a rule, but I'm bound to say, the moment I set eyes on this, I said to myself 'What ho!' or words to that effect, I rather think this will add a touch of distinction to the home, yes, no? I'll hang it up, shall I? 'Phone down to the office, light of my soul, and tell them to send up a nail, a bit of string,, and the hotel hammer.'
'One moment, darling. I'm not quite sure.'
'Eh?'
'Where it ought to hang, I mean. You see--'
'Over the piano, you said. The jolly old piano.'
'Yes, but I hadn't seen it then.'
A monstrous suspicion flitted for an instant into Archie's mind.
'I say, you do like it, don't you?' he said anxiously.
'Oh, Archie, darling! Of course I do!-And it was so sweet of you to give it to me. But, what I was trying to say was that this picture is so--so striking that I feel that we ought to wait a little while and decide where it would have the best effect. The light over the piano is rather strong.'
'You thing it ought to hang in a dimmish light, what?'
'Yes, yes. The dimmer the--I mean, yes, in a dim light. Suppose we leave it in the corner for the moment--over there--behind the sofa, and--and I'll think it over. It wants a lot of thought, you know.'
'Right-o! Here?'
'Yes, that will do splendidly. Oh, and, Archie.'
'Hullo?'
'I think perhaps... Just turn its face to the wall, will you?' Lucille gave a little gulp. 'It will prevent it getting dusty.'
It perplexed Archie a little during the next few days to notice in Lucille, whom he had always looked on as pre- eminently a girl who knew her own mind, a curious streak of vacillation. Quite half a dozen times he suggested various spots on the wall as suitable for the Venus, but Lucille seemed unable to decide. Archie wished that she would settle on something definite, for he wanted to invite J. B. Wheeler to the suite to see the thing. He had heard nothing from the artist since the day he had removed the picture, and one morning, encountering him on Broadway, he expressed his appreciation of the very decent manner in which the other had taken the whole affair.
'Oh, that!' said J. B. Wheeler. 'My dear fellow, you're welcome.' He paused for a moment. 'More than welcome,' he added. 'You aren't much of an expert on pictures, are you?'
'Well,' said Archie, 'I don't know that you'd call me an absolute nib, don't you know, but of course I know enough to see that this particular exhibit is not a little fruity. Absolutely one of the best things you've ever done, laddie.'
A slight purple tinge manifested itself in Mr. Wheeler's round and rosy face. His eyes bulged.
'What are you talking about, you Tishbite? You misguided son of Belial, are you under the impression that -I- painted that thing?'
'Didn't you?'
Mr. Wheeler swallowed a little convulsively.
'My fiancee painted it,' he said shortly.
'Your fiancee? My dear old lad, I didn't know you were engaged. Who is she? Do I know her?'
'Her name is Alice Wigmore. You don't know her.'
'And she painted that picture?' Archie was perturbed. 'But, I say! Won't she be apt to wonder where the thing
