Mee. Ugh! He never tell dem not’ing ’bout dat!... He keep dat to himself fo’ fear dat some wise man come an’ steal me; an’ den me teach him to paint better dan he can.
Tiki. Oh! so you think you could teach painting?
Mee. Oh, yes! dat quite easy t’ing—jus’ to paint!
[Makes an imaginary flourish of the brush.
Tiki. Ah! that shows how little you know. Now I daresay you think that is nothing but a piece of rice-paper, or silk, or linen, with paint spread over it?
Mee. Oh, yes! And all de poo’ man’s wasted time!—I know,—go on!
Tiki.
Yes! Wasted time! That is what every one
Who’s not an artist thinks when it is done!
But really—truly—if they had but eyes,—