He
discontinued his attempt to interfere with its choice of surroundings.
"Mr. Eshley," said Adela in a shaking voice, "I asked you to drive that
beast out of my garden, but I did not ask you to drive it into my house.
If I must have it anywhere on the premises I prefer the garden to the
morning-room."
"Cattle drives are not in my line," said Eshley; "if I remember I told
you so at the outset." "I quite agree," retorted the lady, "painting
pretty pictures of pretty little cows is what you're suited for. Perhaps
you'd like to do a nice sketch of that ox making itself at home in my
morning-room?"
This time it seemed as if the worm had turned; Eshley began striding
away.
"Where are you going?" screamed Adela.
"To fetch implements," was the answer.
"Implements? I won't have you use a lasso. The room will be wrecked if
there's a struggle."
But the artist marched out of the garden. In a couple of minutes he
returned, laden with easel, sketching-stool, and painting materials.
"Do you mean to say that you're going to sit quietly down and paint that
brute while it's destroying my morning-room?" gasped Adela.
"It was your suggestion," said Eshley, setting his canvas in position.
"I forbid it; I absolutely forbid it!" stormed Adela.
"I don't see what standing you have in the matter," said the artist; "you
can hardly pretend that it's your ox, even by adoption."
"You seem to forget that it's in my morning-room, eating my flowers,"
came the raging retort.
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