best families who dive off floats at exclusive seashore resorts. J.
B. Wheeler, a stickler for accuracy, had wanted him to remove his
socks and shoes; but there Archie had stood firm. He was willing to
make an ass of himself, but not a silly ass.

"All right," said J. B. Wheeler, laying down his brush. "That will
do for to-day. Though, speaking without prejudice and with no wish
to be offensive, if I had had a model who wasn't a weak-kneed,
jelly-backboned son of Belial, I could have got the darned thing
finished without having to have another sitting."

"I wonder why you chappies call this sort of thing 'sitting,'" said
Archie, pensively, as he conducted tentative experiments in
osteopathy on his aching back. "I say, old thing, I could do with a
restorative, if you have one handy. But, of course, you haven't, I
suppose," he added, resignedly. Abstemious as a rule, there were
moments when Archie found the Eighteenth Amendment somewhat trying.

J. B. Wheeler shook his head.

"You're a little previous," he said. "But come round in another day
or so, and I may be able to do something for you." He moved with a
certain conspirator-like caution to a corner of the room, and,
lifting to one side a pile of canvases, revealed a stout barrel,
which, he regarded with a fatherly and benignant eye. "I don't mind
telling you that, in the fullness of time, I believe this is going
to spread a good deal of sweetness and light."

"Oh, ah," said Archie, interested. "Home-brew, what?"