"
"Sell my paintings! Say, are you trying to say something still
funnier?"
"I want them to sell them. Remember I once told you that I could sell
them--that I could sell anything. Let me have them, and then just
see."
"You'd sure have to be able to sell anything to sell them!" A
challenging glint had come into Hunt's eyes. "Young fellow, you're so
damned fresh that if you had any dough I'd bet you five thousand, any
odds you like, that you couldn't even GIVE one of the things away!"
"Loan me five thousand," Larry returned evenly, "and I'll cover the
bet with even money--it being understood that I'm to sell the picture
at a price not less than the highest price you ever received for one
of your 'pretty pictures' which you delight to curse and which made
your fortune. Now bring down your pictures--or shut up!"
Hunt's jaw set. "Young fellow, I take that bet! And I'll not let you
off, either--you'll have to pay it! Which pictures do you want?"
"That young Italian woman sitting on the curb nursing her baby--and
any other picture you want to put with it."
Hunt went clumping up the stairway. When he was out of earshot, the
Duchess remarked quietly:
"What did you really come for, Larry?"
Larry was somewhat taken aback by his grandmother's penetration, but
he did not try to evade the question nor the steady gaze of the old
eyes.
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