I WAS helping Menna that day. He had been very busy, and I had been working for him both mornings and afternoons. He had told me, however, that soon he expected to “pick up and go West,” and I was troubled about that. I depended upon Menna for most of my work, and we got along splendidly together. As I have said, Menna had always treated me just like a “fellow” as he would call it.
There was a knock at the door, and in came Paul Bonnat. After nodding to Menna, he strolled over to where I was working and stood at the back of me, watching me paint.
“She’s quite a painter,” he said after a moment to Menna, who looked up and nodded, and said:
“Yes, she does quite O. K.”
After a while Menna turned around on his stool and asked:
“Got anything on to-night, Bonnat?”
“No—nothing particular.”
“Well, a lady friend of mine is coming in from Staten Island, and I promised to take her somewhere to supper and see the town. Can’t you and Miss Ascough join us?”
Bonnat beamed, just as if Menna had handed him a gift, and he said:
“Sure, if Miss Ascough will go with me.”