The youth carried the message, and the proprietor glanced around. Not the one with the beautiful beard, and Charlie felt rather disappointed.
They talked a while longer, then he came forward.
"You wished to see me?"
Charlie turned scarlet to the tips of her fingers, and stammered something in an absurdly incoherent fashion.
"Oh! you did not interrupt me—particularly," and he smiled kindly. "What can I do for you?"
"Will you tell me—who made the first design—for—those pictures in the window,—the children, I mean?"
"Different artists. Two, I think, are by ladies."
"And how did they get to do it? I mean, after they made the sketch, who painted it?"
"Those are from the original paintings. The artist had the thought, and embodied it in a sketch."
"But suppose no one wanted to buy it?"