"Vy not? Accidents _vill_ happen," said Shepson jocosely. "De fact is,
Mrs. Archer Millington wants to be bainted--you know her sdyle? Well,
she prides herself on her likeness to little Gladys. And so ven she saw
dat bicture of yours at de Fake Show she made a note of your name, and
de udder day she sent for me and she says: 'Mr. Shepson, I'm tired of
Mungold--all my friends are done by Mungold. I vant to break away and
be orishinal--I vant to be done by the bainter that did Gladys Glyde."
Shepson waited to observe the result of this overwhelming announcement,
and Stanwell, after a momentary halt of surprise, brought out
laughingly: "But this _is_ a Mungold. Is this what she calls being
original?"
"Shoost exactly," said Shepson, with unexpected acuteness. "That's vat
dey all want--something different from what all deir friends have got,
but shoost like it all de same. Dat's de public all over! Mrs.
Millington don't want a Mungold, because everybody's got a Mungold, but
she wants a picture that's in the same sdyle, because dat's _de_ sdyle,
and she's afraid of any oder!"
Stanwell was listening with real enjoyment. "Ah, you know your public,"
he murmured.
"Vell, you do, too, or you couldn't have painted dat," the dealer
retorted. "And I don't say dey're wrong--mind dat. I like a bretty
picture myself. And I understand the way dey feel. Dey're villing to
let Sargent take liberties vid them, because it's like being punched in
de ribs by a King; but if anybody else baints them, they vant to look
as sweet as an obituary." He turned earnestly to Stanwell. "The thing
is to attract their notice. Vonce you got it they von't gif you dime to
sleep. And dat's why I'm here to-day--you've attracted Mrs.
Millington's notice, and vonce you're hung in dat new ball-room--dat's
vere she vants you, in a big gold panel--vonce you're dere, vy, you'll
be like the Pianola--no home gompleat without you. And I ain't going to
charge you any commission on the first job!"
He stood before the painter, exuding a mixture of deference and
patronage in which either element might predominate as events
developed; but Stanwell could see in the incident only the stuff for a
good story.
"My dear Shepson," he said, "what are you talking about? This is no
picture of mine. Why don't you ask me to do you a Corot at once? I hear
there's a great demand for them still in the West. Or an Arthur
Schracker--I can do Schracker as well as Mungold," he added, turning
around a small canvas at which a paint-pot seemed to have been hurled
with violence from a considerable distance.
Shepson ignored the allusion to Corot, but screwed his eyes at the
picture. "Ah, Schracker--vell, the Schracker sdyle would take first
rate if you were a foreigner--but, for goodness sake, don't try it on
Mrs. Millington!"
Stanwell pushed the two skits aside. "Oh, you can trust me," he cried
humorously. "The pearls and the eyes very large--the extremities very
small. Isn't that about the size of it?"
"Dat's it--dat's it. And the cheque as big as you vant to make it! Mrs.
Millington vants the picture finished in time for her first barty in
the new ball-room, and if you rush the job she won't sdickle at an
extra thousand. Vill you come along with me now and arrange for your
first sitting?"
He stood before the young man, urgent, paternal, and so imbued with the
importance of his mission that his face stretched to a ludicrous length
of dismay when Stanwell, administering a good-humoured push to his
shoulder, cried gaily: "My dear fellow, it will make my price rise
still higher when the lady hears I'm too busy to take any orders at
present--and that I'm actually obliged to turn you out now because I'm
expecting a sitter!"
It was part of Shepson's business to have a quick ear for the note of
finality, and he offered no resistance to Stanwell's friendly
impulsion; but on the threshold he paused to murmur, with a regretful
glance at the denuded studio: "You could haf done it, Mr. Sdanwell--you
could haf done it!"