"I'm awfully sorry," I said contritely.
"All right, all right; ssh!… This, you know, Pudgie, is my own studio; I bought it; I bought it purposely to make my statue, my god. I'm passing nicely into it; and when I'm quite passed—quite passed, Pudgie—you can have the key and come in when you like."
"Oh, thanks awfully," I murmured gratefully.
He nudged me.
"What would they think of it, Pudgie—those of the exhibitions and academies, who say 'their souls are in their work'? What would the cacklers think of it, Pudgie?"
"Aren't they fools!" I chuckled.
"And I shall have one worshipper, shan't I, Pudgie?"
"Rather!" I replied. "Isn't it splendid!… Oh, need I go back just yet?"
"Yes, you must go now; but I'll send for you again very soon…. You know
I tried to do without you, Pudge; I tried for thirteen days, and it
nearly killed me! That's past. I shan't try again. Now off you trot, my
Pudgie—"
I winked at him knowingly, and came skipping and dancing across the yard.