Mrs. Closefist had a daughter named Jane, who was taking painting lessons at the time.
She also took pains to let every one within a hundred miles know about it.
One day she brought down a thing that looked to me like a green shutter in a cloud of steam.
"Look here," says she, "isn't this pretty?"
"I'm enraptured," says I. "Such a wealth of detail, such a display of budding genius! The perspective is simply perfect. It-it-it—is—so—clever. Oh! confound it, I can't find words to express my admiration. By the way, what is it?"
"Why," says she, "I am surprised. It represents a green field on a cloudy day. Can't I paint well?"
"Fine," says I. "In fact you have done so well, I am going to recommend you to a friend of mine who wants a fence whitewashed."
Mrs. Closefist, whose reputation for meanness was well known, was in the habit of giving a soiree once a year, "just to liven the boarders up."