A couple of knights, clad in complete steel--the
local greengrocer and an Italian model--took the guests' hats, and
announced their names; there were daffodils and azaleas in profusion; the
Red Roumanians performed national airs in the studio-gallery; Italian
mandolinists sang and strummed on the staircase, and, in the dining-room,
trim maid-servants, in becoming white caps and streamers, dispensed coffee,
claret-cup, and ices to a swarm of well-conducted social locusts.
Just outside his painting-room stood TINTORETTO TICKLER, at the receipt of
compliment, which was abundantly and cheerfully paid. Indeed, the torrent
of congratulation and delicately-expressed eulogy was almost overwhelming.
One lovely and enthusiastic person told him that the sight of his "_Dryad
Disturbing a Beanfeast_" had just marked an epoch in her mental
development, and that she considered it quite the supreme achievement of
the Art of the Century. A ponderous man in spectacles, whom TICKLER had no
recollection of having ever met before in his life, encouraged him by his
solemn assurance that his "_Jews Sitting in a Dentist's Waiting-room, in
the reign of King John_," was perfectly marvellous in its realism and
historical accuracy, and that it ought to become the property of the
Nation; while an elderly lady, in furs and a crimped front, declared that
the pathos of his nursery subject--a child endeavouring to induce a
mechanical rabbit to share its bread-and-milk--was sending her home with
tears in her eyes.
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