“It isn’t so much the moral or ethical objection that influences me,” John elaborated, “but, as I have said before, I don’t believe in the emotional and literary in art. The artist’s business is to create beauty, not to comment upon it. The public is intelligent enough to understand and appreciate real artistic achievement, without tricks to call their attention to it. You really ought to see the exhibit, Lucy.” “I should like to,” said Lucy encouragingly. “And I too,” seconded Nannie. “Well, we’ll all go,” he proposed. John talked much during dinner. When it was over and Lucy had accompanied Dimmie up to bed, Nannie turned to John sweetly. “I’ll sing to you a little, John,” she suggested. “Yes, Nannie,” he acquiesced. He stretched his arms over his head in a gesture of well being. “I feel in the mood for music tonight,” he added comfortably. Nannie seated herself at the piano. Lighting a cigarette, John reclined in the Morris chair beside her. * * * * * The next day John whistled as he walked to the station. “Good morning,” he called as he entered the office. Jim was bending over a filing case and looked up with slight surprise. “Good morning,” he said. “How is everybody at your house?” “Oh, everybody’s well,” John answered, and, picking up his mail, began to whistle again. “Nannie is coming down town on the nine-thirty to do some shopping,” he observed as he was opening a letter a moment later. Jim glanced up again, but was silent. The two worked on without further conversation until about nine o’clock, when Jim rose. He reached for his hat. “When will you be back?” John inquired, tilting his chair toward the wall and opening his cigarette case. “Not till after lunch,” Jim informed him. “I’m going several places, Layard’s among them.” On reaching the street, however, Jim boarded a car from which he descended near the station that was the terminus for suburban trains from Rosedene, and when Mrs. Merwent emerged from the building he was one of the first pedestrians she encountered. “How do you do, Mrs. Merwent?” He greeted her pleasantly, raising his hat as he spoke. “Aren’t you lost in this great city all alone?” “Why, how do you do, Mr. Sprague?” cooed Nannie, shaking hands. “What a pleasant surprise! I thought you were at the office with John.” “I was until a few minutes ago,” he explained, turning and walking beside her. “I’m out hunting for lath and cement now, but I’m glad to have run across you. I’ve been wanting to have a little talk with you for a long time.” “Yes?” responded Nannie, scrutinizing him sharply from under her hat. “Are you in a hurry now?” continued Jim. “Can’t I take you somewhere where we can sit down and have a soft drink?” “Why, thank you, Mr. Sprague,” she declined, “but I _am_ rather in a hurry. I am anxious to get back to Lucy, you know. She depends so on me, and just now she’s not as well as usual.” “Is she worse?” Jim half halted.