"Come in!" cried several voices at once. The door opened, and Helen stood in the doorway.
"If you please, gentlemen," said the girl, blushing, and with charming modesty, "Mr. McGuilp says that he has finished my portrait, and would the gentlemen of the club like to look at it before it gets too dark."
"Of course we will, my dear, of course we will," answered Mr. Oldstone, his fingers immediately unclasping themselves and grasping the arms of the chair, preparatory to rising to his feet.
"Come along, gentlemen." No further invitation was needed. Professor Cyanite laid down his pipe unlighted. Mr. Crucible replaced the grains of snuff, he had intended conveying to his nose, back into his snuff box, which he closed with a snap and returned to his pocket. There was a general stir among the members, who rose and followed Helen to the room upstairs, that our artist had pro tem. transformed into a studio.
Jack Hearty and his spouse were already in the room when the members of the club appeared at the door.
"Yes, that's our Helen, to a T, and no mistake," he was saying. "Well, its just wonderful, and as like her mother, when she was her age, as one egg is to another. Eh? Molly," said he, addressing his spouse.
"Beg pardon, sir. I hope no offence," continued the landlord, turning deferentially towards our artist.
"But what might such a picture be worth, if I might ask?"
"The wealth of the universe wouldn't purchase it, my good host," replied McGuilp. "It is the best thing I ever did, and that perhaps I ever shall do. No, this one is not for sale. I do not say but that at some future time I might do another from it, and then——"
At this juncture, the members of the club, headed by Mr. Oldstone, entered the studio. Our host and hostess respectfully withdrew, in order to give the gentlemen a better chance of examining the picture, but even then the room was as crowded as an exhibition on a private view day. Mr. Oldstone had placed himself in front of the easel, and was soon loud in his expressions of enthusiasm.