"But they know nothing about art. The Illustrated London News and the Graphic form their idea of pictures."
"They can learn, Mr. Clendon; they can learn," replied the curate, easily. "I should like them to appreciate the old masters."
"Egad, it's a thing I could never do," cried Toby, flippantly. "I much prefer the modern painters."
"You are a Philistine, sir."
"Humph!" said Toby, under his breath, "and this Samson is slaughtering me with the jawbone of an ass."
"Then music," pursued Gelthrip, waxing eloquent; "a little Wagner."
"Very little," said Archie, slily; "all chords and no melody."
"I don't quite understand you," remarked Tommy, addressing Mr. Gelthrip with a demure smile. "You believe in Doctor Watts and Richard Wagner. Isn't it rather difficult to reconcile the two things?"
"Not at all, Miss Valpy. Wagner is understandable by the meanest mind."
"Meaning himself," whispered Archie, with a laugh.