The Magic Painter 29

When she found that she did not remem-
ber any more of that strange new song she
broke into speech. “It is almost like
stepping in front of a looking-glass,” she
said.

‘What is?” asked the painter.

“Being painted by you,” said Doris,
and the painter laughed again very plea-
santly.

“T do work rather quickly, don’t I?
You see, I have such a lot to get through.”

‘Do you paint many pictures?” asked
Doris.

“Whole galleries full,” said the stranger,
who by this time had become her friend.
“T am at it all the time, and I paint all
kinds of pictures: this sort of thing, and
landscapes and castles—lovely, strong
castles that never fall into ruins and never
get deserted, and all sorts of things. ... .
I say, I wish you'd sing me another song.”

Doris sang again, and still the artist
painted. Presently he had finished. He
looked almost idly at his picture while