"Well, I'm sure!" ejaculated the landlady. "I never saw such pictures! Have you done them, miss?"
"Yes, I have painted them--that is, I mean, I have coloured them. Do you like them, Mrs. Austin?"
The landlady thought of her son Silas, and the pretty sketches Doris had taken such pains over, and her answer came slowly, "They'd just suit some people. Now, my son Sam, who was never satisfied with his brother's paintings, would go wild over these."
"Is Mr. Sam an artist?"
"No, he's a cab-driver."
Alice began to laugh rather hysterically, and, turning playfully to Mrs. Austin, she pushed her gently into the Windsor armchair. "Sit there," she said, "and listen to me. I like you because you speak the truth! I'm a bit of a sham, you know, and so are my pictures, and you have found me out."
"I'm sure I beg pardon, miss."
"No, it is I who must beg your pardon for using your garret for such a purpose."
"The garret's no worse for it, miss. And there'll be lots and lots of people who will be that pleased with your pictures!"
"Yes, there are more Sams in the world than Silases!" said Alice, with a little sigh. "And I give people what they want for their money."