Alma. But after all, some artists are successful, and a man must begin at the beginning. There’s nothing wicked about art, is there, doctor?
Dr. A perilous pursuit, and it is not the part of a wise man to play with fire. (Alma pulls a long face, and is caught by Mrs. Dozey)
Sir H. I’ve no objection to a real artist, an Academician, such as Sir Clarence Gibbs, who painted my own portrait. A very gentlemanly man, indeed—received in the best families.
Alma. But he must have learnt his business before he became an Academician. (looking at portrait)
Sir H. I doubt it.
Alma. So do I. (turning to easel) Now there is talent in that picture. The man who did that shouldn’t have gone wrong.
Mrs. D. But he became a scene painter!
Dr. He got connected with a theatre. (both groan)
Sir H. (uncomfortable) Hem! Hem! (tries to attract Dr. Dozey’s attention)
Alma. You don’t approve of theatres?