as often we were asked to stay as guests while the work lasted — not very welcome guests, yet tolerated.”

“What was your foster father’s business?”

“He painted portraits� . I do not know how well he painted. But he cared for nothing else, except his wife. When he spoke at all it was to her of Raphael, and of Titian, and particularly of our Benjamin West, who had his first three colours of the Indians, they say.”

“I have heard so, too.”

She nodded absently, fingering her leggin-fringe; then, with a sudden, indrawn breath:

“We were no more than roving gypsies, you see, living from hand to mouth, and moving on, always moving from town to town, remaining in one place while there were portraits to paint —