He has
a coral throne down on the bottom which he sits in, and paints as long
as he can hold his breath."
"Oh, he does!" said Bob.
"Yes," said Baker.
"But a man can't see three feet in front of his face under water!" cried
Bob.
"Pickering says he can. He paints submarinescapes, and knows all the
fishes. He says fishes have individual expressions. He claims he can
tell by a fish's expression whether he is polygamous or monogamous."
"Do you mean to tell me anybody swallows that rot!" demanded Bob
indignantly.
"The women do--and a lot more I can't remember. The market for
calf-skins with green swirls on them is booming. Also the women clubbed
together and gave him money enough to build a house."
Bob surveyed the little white-faced man with a strong expression of
disgust.
"The natural man never sits in chairs," the artist was expounding. "When
humanity shall have come into its own we shall assume the graceful and
hygienic postures of the oriental peoples. In society one must, to a
certain extent, follow convention, but in my own house, the House
Beautiful of my dreams, are no chairs.
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