The Rev. Athol Irquetson was a sombre-eyed priest with a beautiful voice. In his zeal, he had studied how to use it--under an eminent actor; in his discretion, he suppressed the fact--for he knew his Sweetbay. He had also a fine faculty for gesture, which his parishioners found "impressive"--and which they would have found "theatrical" had they guessed that for years it had been cultivated daily before a looking-glass. Why invalidate an instrument? To admiring friends he said his gestures "came to him." They did, by this time. He waved Conrad's apologies aside, and motioning towards a seat, sank slowly into a study-chair himself. Conrad ardently appreciated the pose of his hand there, as--a pensive profile supported by his finger-tips--the vicar asked, in a voice to make converts: "And what can I do for you?" Yes, he remembered Dr. Page. Dr. Page was dead. But soon it was the vicar's turn to be appreciative, for the intruder's glance kept straying to the Canaletto prints that graced the walls, and it was a rare thing for Mr. Irquetson to have a visitor to whom they spoke. Those glances warmed his heart, and a digression melted his reserve. "There are not many," he said; "but I think my small room is the richer on that account." "Surely," said Conrad. "If a picture is worth owning, it is worth a spacious setting. A mere millionaire may buy a gallery, but it takes a man of taste to hang a sketch. I have always thought that a picture calls for two artists--one to create it, and the other to prepare his wall for its reception." "But how little the second art is understood. Of course the eye should be enabled to rest on a picture reposefully. The custom of massing pictures in conflicting multitudes is barbarous. It's like the compression of flowers into bundles that hide half their loveliness. The Western mind is slowly learning from the Japanese that a flower ought to be displayed so that we may appreciate its form. I have hope that when they have taught us how a flower should be put in water, they may proceed to teach us how a picture should be hung." Quite ten minutes passed in such amenities.