“Oh, believe me, very second-rate indeed. A mere copyist of Rubens, who, himself, in no way justified the position of being a target at which a self-respecting artist should aim. Here is a Titian now—” “Oh, really!” said Mrs. Johns. “I’ve often heard of Titian red. Do you see, father, that’s a Titian.” “Oh yes,” said Mr. Johns, consulting his catalogue. “So it is. Seems good!” “Very wonderful how the colours last so long. Isn’t it pretty, Vincent?” “I don’t know,” said Vincent, who was very bored. “Dare say it’s all right.” “I wonder,” remarked Wynne, “if you can detect the fault in that picture.” Mr. and Mrs. Johns half closed their eyes, by which means they fondly believed faults were more easily detected. After much consideration they produced the joint statement that it looked “a little funny—I don’t know!” “The fault lies in the fact that there are no faults—which, to my way of thinking, is very heinous.” “That sounds nonsense to me,” said Mr. Johns, who was getting heartily sick of the whole exposition. “Not at all. There must be impurity to emphasize purity. Where would the Church be were it not for sinners? What would be the worth of virtue if there were no vice? Therefore I contend that nothing is so imperfect as perfection.” Carried away by his own arguments, Wynne hurried his charges along to Leonardo’s “Baptist.” Here he drew breath and started to speak afresh. “An amazingly happy performance—instinct with life, saturated with humour. You notice the same classic tendency towards sexlessness? In my opinion this is all a painting should be. There is something astonishingly compelling in every line of the form and features.” “She is certainly very pleasant-looking,” said Mrs. Johns. “Who was the young lady?” “John the Baptist, madam.” At this Mr. Johns very properly interposed with: “I don’t tolerate jokes about the Bible, young man.” Even Vincent looked as though he expected Wynne to be struck down by some divine and correcting hand. Mrs. Johns was frankly horrified. “Look at your catalogue,” said Wynne. This advice Mr. Johns accepted, but even the printed words failed to convince him. “If that’s John the Baptist,” he remarked, “all I can say is that it’s not _my_ idea of John the Baptist.” “What is your idea, sir.” “An elderly gentleman with a beard.” “With all respect, I think Leonardo’s is preferable. Youth is more appealing than middle age. These half humorous, wholly inspired features would lose the greater measure of their attraction if the lower part of the face were covered with hair.” “I don’t agree with you, and I don’t consider the subject at all a proper one,” said Mr. Johns sternly. “As for that picture, I am very sorry I’ve seen it.” It is probable Wynne would have answered hotly had not Vincent advanced a suggestion: “Why don’t you and the mater sit down for ten minutes,” he said. “This Mr.—er—can take me round for a bit.”