"He
wasn't from Peoria," said Joe, slowly.
"Well, it doesn't matter where he was from. How clever you
are, Joe --and--kiss me, Joe--and what made you ever suspect that I wasn't
giving music lessons to Clementina?"
"I
didn't," said Joe, "until to-night. And I wouldn't have then, only I
sent up this cotton waste and oil from the engine-room this afternoon for a
girl upstairs who had her hand burned with a smoothing-iron. I've been firing
the engine in that laundry for the last two weeks."
"And then you didn't--"
"My purchaser from Peoria," said Joe, "and Gen.
Pinkney are both creations of the same art--but you wouldn't call it either
painting or music.
And then they both laughed, and Joe began:
"When one loves one's Art no service seems--"
But Delia stopped him with her hand on his lips. "No,"
she said-- "just 'When one loves.'&quo...