"You just wait till we get there," I said to David, as we stumped down the walk together. David was used to my enthusiasms over all sorts of things which he usually only vaguely assented that he could see, and though he never said much when I fell to talking about principles of art, I liked to have him with me always when I worked, because he had such a joyous, fresh little face. I couldn't help but catch the sunshine of it when I did an outdoor sketch; and if I had lived in the days when no picture was complete without a Love in it, David would always have been the one to have posed for me. Presently we came near the gate and, to speak truly, I was becoming a bit fearful as to just what was going to happen, but David, eager and anticipatory, hopped on ahead of me and peered in. "Oh!" he called back, "there isn't anything here at all." "Oh, isn't there?" I said; "you don't mean to say it's gone in." "If you mean the lady, she isn't here." And true enough, when I came up there wasn't a soul in sight. How empty the place looked! It was just like a disappointing exhibition--here were all the people come to see the great works, and when the door was reached, there hung a sign which said that the management was sorry, but the best paintings had been delayed on the way, and wouldn't be here till tomorrow at two o'clock! I gazed at my ruined masterpiece--the background was all there, but there was no picture, for what moaning had broad green masses of foliage and shaded distances apart from a contrasting center of interest, of what meaning was there anyhow in a landscape without a human touch? David pressed his hand on the latch of the gate and it opened for him. I have always liked to think since that he was the one that really opened the way there. "Let's go in," he said in a half challenging whisper, but with eyes pleading authority from me. I couldn't resist. "Well, all right--it will be like Corot wandering around in the forest of Fontainbleau--and if anybody comes----" I didn't know what I would do, so I took my pallet in my hand fancying to myself it would do very well for a shield against any contingent. So we slowly walked up the winding path together. "The pollywogs are over there," said David, pointing a slender finger toward the house. "You never mind them," I answered, "what we are here for is to get the setting of this picture. My! Almost any view would do--I never saw so many colors in all my life. Look, David, at that bust over there with the gray-green leaves brushing up against the gray stone--oh, there ought to be a peacock under there, to give a strong iridescent blue note--do you suppose there is a peacock around any place?" I said, laying down my pallet and circling my eyes with my hands so as to localize the color masses better. But David was sorting pebbles on the walk and so I expected no answer from him, but was scarcely prepared for the one I did receive.