And Marjorie wa'n't in the mood to stand for any smooth excuses. She didn't care if he had forgotten, and she guessed his old business affairs could be put off an hour or so. Besides, this meant so much to poor Brooks. His very first exhibit, too. Ferdy couldn't go, either. Another one of his sick headaches. But he had promised to buy a picture, and Marjorie had hoped that Robert would like one of them well enough to——
"Oh, if that's all," puts in Mr. Robert, "then tell him I'll take one, too."
"But you can't buy pictures without seeing them," protests Marjorie. "Brooks is too sensitive. He wants appreciation, encouragement, you see."
"A lot I could give him," says Mr. Robert. "Why, I know no more about that sort of thing than—well, than——" And just here his eye lights on me. "Oh, I say, though," he goes on, "it would be all right, wouldn't it, if I sent a—er—a commissioner?"
"I suppose that would do," says Marjorie.
"Good!" says Mr. Robert. "Torchy, go with Marjorie and look at that lot. If they're any good, buy one for me."
"Wha-a-at!" says I. "Me buy a picture?"
"Full power," says he, startin' back towards the meetin'. "Pick out the best, and tell Bladen to send me the bill."
And there we're left, Marjorie and me, lookin' foolish at each other.
"Well, he's done a duck," says I.