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The door of another studio had opened, and a slight, dark man with a somewhat ascetic and rather discontented-looking face came out in the sunshine.

“What’s going on here?” he demanded.

“We’re studying the preface to a little book called ‘From Wildness to Decorum,’” answered Barnabas gravely. “The first chapter will no doubt be named ‘Hints from the Ancients to Young Men—on Deportment.’”

“Do you ever talk sense?” asked Jasper. “I suppose someone has taken this studio.”

Dan imparted the information they had lately received.

“So there’s no more fun for us poor young fellows, and we’ll grow like the good artists grow,” chanted Barnabas.

“I don’t see why you should imagine that because this lady has taken the studio that she should necessarily object to any of our amusements,” said Jasper seriously. “Besides, I hardly think it is kind——”

Barnabas gave a little chuckle of laughter.

“Dear child!” he said patting Jasper gently on the shoulder. “He’s learnt the first chapter of the little book by heart while we’ve been grizzling in the garden. Entirely Dan’s fault, my child. He interrupted a busy morning, thereby causing me to view the whole world, and old ladies in particular, in a pessimistic spirit. Let us be kind. We will invite the old dame to your party, Dan. We’ll sing songs suited to the ears of age. We’ll hire a harmonium for the evening, and——”