a brand new course of memory training to help her; she was not only learning to remember outlandish words, but how and when and in what order to use them. "You talk of Rembrandt and Titian and Velasky, but I'm thinking those foreign landladies'll get your size before you can say Knife. My opinion is you'll need somebody always with you to see that they don't take it off you."
"Take what off me, Miss June?" inquired His Innocence.
There was a question!
"Your pram, of course, your teddy bear, and your feeding bottle." She added the opprobrious term "You Gaby!" not however for the ear of this Dreamer, but for the benefit of the pleasant town of Malden, on whose outskirts they were already.
"When you get to Paris and find yourself in the Prado studying Paul Very-uneasy, you'll be lucky if you get away with as much as a bootlace. Mr. Boultby used to say French landladies were awful."
"Did he," said the Dreamer; and then with a sudden animation: "Do you see that water wagtail on the lip of that pool?"
June pointedly ignored the water wagtail.
"You ought to have somebody to look after you when you go to Paris—somebody who understands the value of money."
"The less value money has for an artist the better," said William the sententious.
"Mr. Boultby would call that poppycock," said June, equally sententious.
What William really meant to say was that the less an artist thought about money the better for his art,
