"What makes you think so, Washington?"
"Well, I hardly know, but really you can see, yourself, that he doesn't
seem to be pining for his last place."
"It's well thought! Soundly deduced. We've done that Thing a favor.
But I believe I will pump it a little, in a quiet way, and find out if we
are right."
"How long is it going to take to finish him off and fetch him down to
date, Colonel?"
"I wish I knew, but I don't. I am clear knocked out by this new detail--
this unforeseen necessity of working a subject down gradually from his
condition of ancestor to his ultimate result as posterity. But I'll make
him hump himself, anyway."
"Rossmore!"
"Yes, dear. We're in the laboratory. Come--Hawkins is here. Mind, now
Hawkins--he's a sound, living, human being to all the family--don't
forget that. Here she comes."
"Keep your seats, I'm not coming in. I just wanted to ask, who is it
that's painting down there?"
"That? Oh, that's a young artist; young Englishman, named Tracy; very
promising--favorite pupil of Hans Christian Andersen or one of the other
old masters--Andersen I'm pretty sure it is; he's going to half-sole some
of our old Italian masterpieces. Been talking to him?"
"Well, only a word.
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