When he had moved in, some years before--long before Dalny arrived in the building--the agent had copied the inscription in his book from this very card, and had thereafter nailed it to the panel to identify the occupant. It had never been removed, nor had any more important name-plate been placed beside it. Sometimes the janitor, in addressing him, would call him "Mr. Adolphe," and sometimes "Mr. Woolfsen"; sometimes he would so far forget himself as to let his tongue slip half-way down "Old Sunshine," bringing up at the "Sun" and substituting either one of the foregoing in its place. The agent who collected his rent always addressed him correctly. "If it was agreeable to Mr. Woolfsen, he would like to collect," etc. Sometimes it was agreeable to Mr. Woolfsen, and sometimes it was not. When it was agreeable--this the janitor said occurred only when a letter came with a foreign postmark on it--the old painter would politely beg the agent to excuse him for a moment, and shut the door carefully in the agent's face. Then would follow a hurried moving of easels and the shifting of a long screen across his picture. Then the agent would be received with a courteous bow and handed to a chair--a wreck of a chair, with the legs unsteady and the back wobbly, while the tenant would open an old desk, take a china pot from one of the cubby-holes, empty it of the contents, and begin to count out the money, smiling graciously all the time. When it was not agreeable to pay, the door was closed gently and silently in the agent's face, and no amount of pounding opened it again--not that day, at least. Only Dalny knew what was behind that screen, and only Dalny divined the old man's reasons for concealing his canvas so carefully; but this was not until after weeks of friendly greeting, including certain attentions to the old sister, such as helping her up the stairs with a basket--an unusual occurrence for her, and, of course, for him. This time it was a measure of coal and a bundle of wood that made it so heavy. "Thank you, sir," she had said in her sweet, gentle voice, her pale cheeks and sad eyes turned toward him; "my brother will be so pleased. No, I can't ask you in, for he is much absorbed these days, and I must not disturb him."