In his capacity of maid, with a basket on his arm, he
went out into the little street, where in his shabby clothes he was
recognized by none and leaned for a time against the mongrel, underfed
tree that was hesitatingly greeting the spring with a few half-hearted
leaves. He bathed himself in the warm sun which seemed over-glorious
for so mean a street; he filled his lungs with the tangy May air; yes,
it was wonderful to be free again!
Then he strolled about the street on his business of marketing. It
amused him to be buying three pounds of potatoes and a pound of
chopped meat and a package of macaroni, and to be counting Hunt's
pennies--remembering those days when he had been a personage to head
waiters, and had had his table reserved, and with a careless Midas's
gesture had left a dollar, or five, or twenty, for the waiter's tip.
When he climbed back into the studio he watched Hunt slashing about
with his paint. Hunt growled and roared at him, and kidded him; and
Larry came back at him with the same kind of verbal horseplay, after
the fashion of men. Presently a relaxation, if not actual friendship,
began to develop in their attitude toward each other.
"Tell you what," Larry remarked, standing with legs wide apart gazing
at the picture of the Italian mother throned on the curb nursing her
child, "if I were dolled up all proper, I bet I could take some of
this stuff out and sell it for real dough.
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