One had had
three inches of gilt moulding knocked off its frame in transit, and both
bore Jack's signature in the lower left-hand corner.
"Didn't want 'em, eh?" cried Jack, throwing himself on to the divan,
temporarily exhausted with the labor of hanging the lamp and attaching
the tassel. "Wanted something painted with darning-needle
brushes--little tooty-wooty stuff that everybody can understand. 'See
the barndoor and the nails in the planks and all them knots!'"--Jack was
on his feet now, imitating the drawl of the country art-buyer--"'Ain't
them natural! Why, Maria, if you look close ye can see jes' where the
ants crawl in and out. My, ain't that wonderful!'"
These remarks were not addressed to the offending canvas nor to the
imaginary countryman, but to his chum, Sam Ruggles, who sat hunched up
in a big armchair with gilt flambeaux on each corner of its high
back--it being a holiday and Sam's time his own. Ruggles was entry clerk
in a downtown store, lived on fifteen dollars a week, and was proud of
it.
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