"Wait till I get _my_ shadows in," he said. "Cart before the horse!" rejoined the critic. "I see your finish with the old man." Ewing started to lay in his shadows as the other had done, but it seemed as if that delicate body appealed for gentler treatment. He rubbed out the vandal lines and began swinging around the figure in the curving strokes habitual with him, strokes that nursed each lovely rondure like caresses. Then, until the closing hour, he polished, picking out the precious little reflected lights that saved her treasures from shadow. "Red ruin for you, my boy!" exclaimed the spectacled one behind him. "Ravage and slaughter! Old Velvet will scalp you." Ewing stood up, released by his neighbors, who now rose in a clatter of toppled stools. "What's the matter with it?" he asked. "Finicky! You've _fussed_ it to death. Velvet will slay you for those reflected lights alone--and your nice curly lines--oh, Lord!" "But they're there, those lights," protested Ewing. "And it's the way I've always drawn. I suppose there are different methods." "There's only one way with Velvet, and that's Velvet's way." Then with a damnatory waving-away of the offensive drawing he sauntered off to put his stuff in his locker. Ewing dined alone that night. He was in no mood for Teevan. Back in his place next day, still incredulous of defeat so swift, he waited for the master. He watched him going the rounds of the other students, the light playing on the purple velvet of the garment that gave him his title. His beard was a rich growth, his mustaches curled upward at the ends, his large, heavy eyelids drooped in a perpetual _ennui_. His usual criticism was a weary "Rub it out!" When at last he stood beside Ewing's work he gave an effect of collapsing, as if his whole being cried out: "This is too much!" He took the drawing from the board and stuck it to the wall with two thumb tacks. Then, picking up a bit of charcoal, he wrote across it, "A perfect example of how not to do it." He did not return to Ewing, but, after examining a few other drawings, he turned to leave the room. As he passed, Ewing reached across two neighbors--who protested--and caught the velvet jacket. "Perhaps you can give me an idea," he said. The other looked at him as if he had not seen him before. "Use intelligence! Good God--use intelligence!" he almost wailed, and made his escape.