While he made the closet give up the necessary utensils and concocted the chocolate with the aid of spirit-lamp stove the three talked in rambling fashion. Several times Richmond brought up the subject of the picture; every time Roger abruptly led away from it, Beatrice with increasing nervousness helping him. But Richmond was not discouraged. It became evident that he had made up his mind to see that picture and was only the more resolved because the artist had his will set against it. Finally he said: “It’s really necessary, Mr. Wade, that I see the picture. Your friend, Count d’Artois, speaks highly of your work. But I always judge everything for myself. And I must see before I decide about giving you a commission--a dozen panels for an outing-club house I and some of my friends are going to put something like half a million into.” “Why, father, you didn’t tell me anything about it!” exclaimed Beatrice, flushed and agitated. And Roger understood that she, nervous about his sensibilities, was letting him know that she had not arranged this. Her father’s amused laugh confirmed Roger’s impression that Beatrice was telling the truth. “No, my dear, I did forget to ask your permission,” said Richmond ironically. “I apologize. Now, Wade, you see I’m not asking out of idle curiosity or merely because I’m anxious to see what you’ve made of this girl of mine. So, don’t bother with bashfulness. Trot out the picture.” But Roger smilingly shook his head. “I couldn’t undertake any work at present.” “Honestly, Chang, I didn’t know a thing about this,” cried the girl. Then, to her father: “He’s so peculiar that he wouldn’t----” “Oh, no, I’m not such an ass as that,” interrupted Roger good-naturedly. “Sugar in your chocolate, Mr. Richmond? No? When are you sailing, Miss Richmond?” Beatrice understood--abandoned the subject. “Perhaps we shan’t go,” she replied. And she went on to detail at length and with much vivacity the merits and demerits of several plans for the summer she and her mother were considering. Richmond’s frown deepened. After five minutes he set down his empty cup and cut squarely across her stream of lively talk. “The panels will be a good thing--from the financial standpoint,” said he, a note in his voice like a rap for undivided attention. Beatrice glanced anxiously at Roger, said to her father: “Oh papa, don’t let us talk business. This is a party.” “_I_ came on business,” retorted Richmond. “And I know Wade wouldn’t thank us for coming if we were here just to fool away his time.” “I usually knock off for chocolate at this hour,” said Roger. “About the panels, thank you very much, but I can’t do them.” “Why not?” inquired Richmond, so much irritation in his tone that it was scarcely polite. Roger looked amused. “I haven’t thought of the reason yet,” said he courteously. “If I change my mind later I’ll let you know.”