“Oh! What for?”
“Do you remember a fat old grandpa who was here last month and came back to ask about the decorations?”
“Yes.”
“He’s built him a new house—he calls it a mansion—and he wants me to paint the music-room. He likes”—Phil gulped a little—“my style of art.”
“Isn’t that great!” said Barbran in the voice of one giving three cheers for a funeral. “How does he want his music-room decorated?”
Young Phil put his head in his hands. “Scenes from Moody and Sankey,” he said in a muffled voice.
“Good gracious! You aren’t going to do it?”
“I am,” retorted the other gloomily. “It’s good money.” Almost immediately he added, “Damn the money!”
“No; no; you mustn’t do that. You must go, of course. Would—will it take long?”
“I’m not coming back.”