At a certain time in his life, before he came to be a great artist, he had learned the gas-fitter's trade, and when his opinions were not identical with the opinions of the art managers of the greater number of New York publications he went to see a friend who was a plumber, and the opinions of this man he was thereafter said to respect.

He frequented a very neat restaurant on Twenty-third Street.

It was known that on Saturday nights Wrinkles, Grief, and Pennoyer frequently quarreled with him.
As Florinda ceased speaking Purple entered.

"Hello, there, Splutter!" As he was neatly hanging up his coat, he said to the others, "Well, the rent will be due in four days." "Will it ?" asked Pennoyer, astounded.
"Certainly it will," responded Purple, with the air of a superior financial man.
"My soul!" said Wrinkles.
"Oh, shut up, Purple!" said Grief.

"You make me weary, coming around here with your chin about rent.