“Oh, they wouldn’t stay dead five minutes in this air,” said he. “Come on. If I hadn’t been an artist I would have been a carpenter. Send for ’em. I’ll help build the shack.”
I looked at Minerva. Her face was beaming.
She loved company.
“What do you think, Ethel?”
“Why, the more the merrier,” said she. “Are they congenial?”
“Congenial’s no name for it,” said Tom. “Both of ’em starving. Neither has sold a picture in six months, and the night before I came away they dropped in at my studio, and when I told ’em where I was coming they were as happy as if they were coming themselves, and were going to share in it. Two nice, promising boys, and perhaps this would be their salvation.”
“Have them come by all means,” said Ethel.
And Minerva went out to tell James the good news.