Hanlon’s eyes had a faraway, hopeful look, as if gazing into a future of marvelous achievement in his chosen field. “Oh, I say, boy, it’s glorious, this becoming expert in something difficult. It pays for all the work and training and practice!”
The true artist ambition rang in his voice, and Fibsy gazed at him fascinated, for the boy was a hero-worshipper, and adored proficiency in any art.
“When you going to exhibit?” he asked eagerly.
“A little try at it next week. Want’a come?”
“Don’t I. Where?”
“Hush! I’ll whisper. Philadelphia.”
“I’ll be there! Lemme ‘no the date and all.”
“Yes, I will. Must you go? Here’s your hat.”
Fibsy laughed, took the hint and departed.
“What a feller!” he marveled to himself, as he went on his way. “Oh, gee! what a feller!”