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“Yes, sir,” said Sally, and she turned back towards the studio.
“By the way,” said Barnabas, “what is your mistress’s name?”
“Miss Mason, sir,” said Sally. She dropped a final curtsey and disappeared within the studio.
Barnabas lifted his arm with the butterfly on it, and brushed its wings lightly against his lips. Apparently it appreciated the treatment, for it remained passive.
“Is it the influence of the morning, the wings of a white butterfly, or the wild-rose face of that child?” said Barnabas.
“I fancy I am going to fall in love with Miss Mason.”
CHAPTER VII
THE SIX ARTISTS OF THE COURTYARD
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THAT same afternoon the five other male occupants of the studios dropped in to tea with Barnabas. They frequently did. They liked the cakes he bought at a shop in the Fulham Road, and, incidentally, they appreciated Barnabas himself. They had one and all announced their intention previously.
“Meaning me to buy cakes,” said Barnabas. And he had sent his man to the Fulham Road to make the purchases.