He put on his hat and led the two marvelling youngsters to a public-house, where he became a different man altogether. The compression of his lips relaxed, his eyes twinkled and his face shone with good humour, and he made them and the barmaid and the two or three men who were shyly taking their beer roar with laughter. He had an extraordinary gift of mimicry, and told story after story, many of them against himself, most of them without point, but in the telling exceedingly comic. Mendel sat up and bristled. It was to him half shocking, half enviable, that a man, and an artist, should be able to laugh at himself. "If you'll give me free drinks for a month," said Logan to the elderly barmaid, "I'll paint your portrait. Are you married? . . . No? I'll paint you such a beautiful portrait that it will get you a husband inside a week." "I'm not on the marrying lay," said the barmaid. "Terrible thing, this revolt against marriage," replied Logan, "and bad luck on us artists. I'm always getting babies left on my doorstep." "What do you do with them?" said Mendel, believing him, and astonished when the others roared with laughter. "I keep the pretty ones and sell them to childless mothers. Ah! Many's the time I've gone through the snow, like the heroine in a melodrama taking her child to the workhouse." "Oh! go on," tittered the barmaid. "Certainly," said Logan. "Come along." As they left the public-house he took Mendel's arm and said:-- "You have to talk to people in their own language, you know." "Yes," replied Mendel, though this was precisely what he knew least of all. "Why don't you go on the stage?" asked Mitchell. "I have thought of it. I think I might do well on the halls. There's a life for you! On at eight in Bethnal Green:-- My old woman's got a wart on her nose; How she got it I will now disclose. Off again in a motor-car to the Oxford:-- My old woman's got a wart on her nose. Off again to Hammersmith or Kensal Rise:-- My old woman's got a wart on her nose. My God! What a life! But I love the halls. They are all that is left of old England!" His parody of the low comedian was so apt and his voice had such a delicious roll that Mendel could not help laughing, and he began to feel very happy with the man. Logan swung back to his serious mood and gripped Mendel's arm tighter as he said:-- "You have a big future before you. Only stick to it. Don't listen to the fools who want you to paint the same picture over and over again with a different subject. There's more stuff in that one little picture of yours than in all the rest of the exhibition put together." "Do you think so?" said Mendel, fluttering with excitement. "I was amazed when I heard you had been to the Detmold with its Calthrop and all the little Calthrops." Both the youngsters were silent on that. They had often abused the Detmold, but with a profound respect in their hearts, and both had done their full share of imitating Calthrop.