"I don't."
Having established this point to his satisfaction Deaves seemed disposed to become friendly. "What are you doing out on the street in the middle of the morning?" he asked.
"I might ask the same of you," returned Evan good-naturedly.
"I'm retired. I've a right to take my ease. But all young fellows ought to be at work. Haven't you got any work to do?"
"I'm an artist."
"Pooh! Waste of time!"
Evan laughed. It was useless to get angry at the old boy.
"Why aren't you working at it now?" Deaves demanded to know.
"It wouldn't come to-day," said Evan.
"Stuff and nonsense! You'll never get on that way! Look at me!"