was a Venetian scene. A splendid marble palace stood in the foreground. For the rest there were gondolas (with the lady trailing her hand in the water), clouds, sky.
Two days afterward the customer came in.
“Two loafs of stale bread, if you blease[13].
“You haf here a fine bicture[14], madame,” he said while she was wrapping up the bread.
“Yes?” says Miss Martha. “You think it is a good picture?”
“Der balance[15],” said the customer, “is not in good drawing. Der bairspective[16] of it is not true. Thank you, madame.”
He took his bread, bowed, and hurried out.
Yes, he must be an artist. Miss Martha took the picture back to her room.
How gentle and kindly his eyes shone behind his spectacles! What a broad brow he had! Genius often has to struggle.
He saw the perspective at once. She wanted to help him – to keep house for him, to share with him all the good things she had in her bakery. Maybe even two thousand dollars. But these were day-dreams, Miss Martha.
Often now when he came he talked to her for a few minutes. But he bought only stale bread as before. Never a cake, never a pie, never one of her delicious sweets.
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