As she approached him her wonder grew. He wore a suit of black and white checks, an emerald-hued necktie of such proportions that the loops of the bow were visible even from Jane’s inconvenient angle of sight. But most remarkable of all, was his hat. It was such a hat as, once seen, would leave an indelible impression, and yet defied all description. It can only be said that it was large—extremely large—that it was of straw, and that it was ornamented with a scarf of a rich and vivid green. But the jaunty freedom of its lines, the expression of its broad and supple brim—these were the individualities that distinguished it from all the other hats ever made by the hand of man.
After a moment or two Jane made out what he was doing. He was painting a picture. In front of him was a small easel, and on the easel was a small canvas, and on the canvas was a bewildering blur of colors. On his thumb he supported a huge palette.
It occurred to Jane that this fellow craftsman of Paul might have heard of her cousin, and in any event his occupation interested her. She drew nearer, until she was close enough to watch the airy strokes of his brushes which he selected from time to time from a large bunch, much as a golfer selects his clubs.
Presently, evidently hearing some motion on the grass behind him, the artist looked around and saw her. At once he sprang up, doffing his wonderful hat.
“Ah! How do you do?”
Jane stared at him, and then said, with dignity,
“How do you do? Am I disturbing you?”
“Not at all! Not at all.”
“Can I watch you?”
“I shall be delighted; though I fear that your interest will be ill repaid,” he said modestly. “I am, as you see, endeavoring to render my impressions of the beauty and tranquillity of this charming scene. Ah, Nature! Nature! there is nothing like Nature, my dear young lady,—you may take my word for it. I am a great worshipper of Nature—I wear her colors like a true knight!” And he pointed to the scarf around the crown of his hat, which, as has been said, was of a green that was surely never to be met with on land or sea. He resumed his seat on the little camp stool, under the green umbrella—also, let it be observed, of Nature’s hue—and Jane, whose curiosity had been much piqued by this odd little man, settled herself sociably on a hillock. He set to work again, this time using certain self-conscious little mannerisms, throwing his head on one side, thrusting out his underlip, pondering over his palette, and then holding up one finger, saying briskly, “Ah-ha! Now I’ve got it!” and impetuously dashing a blob of paint onto the meek canvas, which seemed to have had already far more trouble than it deserved.