"Instead of that," finished Van Dorn, "we can go down to-night and get into the line ourselves. Light up, Stony; we'll take a look at your picture, anyhow."
There was a brisk, whipping sound against the skylight above them. It drew their attention, and presently came again. Livingstone arose hastily.
"Sleet!"
He spoke eagerly, and looked up at the glass overhead. Then he added in a sort of joyous excitement:
"Fellows, let's do it! Let's go down there and get into the line ourselves! I've been waiting for this sleet to see how they would look in it. Now we're hungry, too. Let's go down and get into the line and see how it feels!"
Van Dorn and Perner stared at him a moment to make sure that he was in earnest. There was consent in the laugh that followed. The proposition appealed to their sense of artistic fitness. There was a picturesque completeness in thus rounding out the year. Besides, as Livingstone had said, they were hungry.
They set forth somewhat later. There was a strong wind, and the sleet bit into their flesh keenly. It got into their eyes and, when they spoke, into their mouths.
"I don't know about this," shouted Van Dorn, presently. "I think it's undertaking a good deal for the sake of art."
"Oh, pshaw, Van, this is bully!" Livingstone called back. He was well in advance, and did not seem to mind the storm.
Perner, who was tall, was shrunken and bent by the cold and storm. His voice, however, he lifted above it.