“Good, ain’t it?”
“Yes, it is. What will you take for it?”
“What will I take?” The grin broadened. “Why, a better art job than the one I’ve got.”
“Unfortunately I can’t pay that.”
“Sorry not to oblige an admirer of my work.” The artist banged down the forelegs of the tilted chair and gathered up his paraphernalia for departure. “If it’s your nice little idea to keep the girl’s picture out of the paper, it wouldn’t help any to withhold this. The camera gang departed on the run some time ago.”
Seff, at Mrs. Hutton’s touch on his arm, had turned and seen the addition to their group. He continued in urgent tones:
“Of course you must write your stories right, boys and girls. But I do wish you’d go light on this finish. For the sake of a highly valued patron, I should regret to have a certain name figured. Also, it scarcely seems fair to jeopard the chances of an overly impulsive young girl, just at her start of life.”
“But her scream, Mr. Seff?”
“And the door-smashing?”
“Not to mention that lively bout?”