“That picture which I started a couple of weeks ago is finished at last, and I want you good people to come and tell me what you think of it. I want you all—you, Slim, and Louise, you are to come and give your opinion.”
“Well, I don't know the first thing about paintin',” remonstrated the Countess, coming in from the kitchen.
The Old Man lighted his pipe and followed her into the parlor with the others, and Slim rolled a cigarette to hide his embarrassment, for the role of art critic was new to him.
There was some nervousness in the Little Doctor's manner as she set the easel to her liking and drew aside the curtain. She did not mean to be theatrical about it, but Chip, watching through the open door, fancied so, and let his lip curl a trifle. He was not in a happy frame of mind just then.
A silence fell upon the group. The Old Man took his pipe from his mouth and stared.
The cheeks of the Little Doctor paled and grew pink again. She laughed a bit, as though she would much rather cry.
“Say something, somebody, quick!” she cried, when her nerves would bear no more.
“Well, I do think it's awfully good, Dell,” began the Countess.
“By golly, I don't see how you done that without seein' it happen,” exclaimed Slim, looking very dazed and mystified.
“That's a Diamond Bar cow,” remarked J. G., abstractedly. “That outfit never does git half their calves. I remember the last time I rode through there last winter, that cow—doggone it, Dell, how the dickens did you get that cow an' calf in? You must a had a photograph t' work from.”