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 This train of thought was arrested by the last canvas which Casimir had placed on the easel. Involuntarily Grover gave a little gasp of interest, which brought Casimir's eyes swiftly in his direction.

"What do you think of it?" asked the painter.

"I don't know," replied Grover, slowly, then added with conviction, "All I know is that it's by far the best thing you've shown us."

Vaudreuil looked at him in surprise, and made a protest.

"The little American is right," confirmed Casimir.

Vaudreuil was even more surprised. "To me it doesn't compare with the others. I'd like to know what you see in it."

Grover was at a loss for words. "It's a little crazy," he confessed, "But it's an exceedingly authentic sort of craziness."

Casimir laughed and slapped him again on the back. "You've seen it truly," he said, "without any preconceived ideas about it, which no other person who has looked at it has yet been able to do. I showed it to some of the critics, to test them. They shake their heads and make no comment. You, you're a promising child."

"But," Grover protested, wishing he had a right to this praise, "I couldn't tell you why I approve if my life depended on it."

"You needn't," laughed the painter. "Neither could I. But I know it's good. Not only good, but probably