And they was forever settin' around under white sunshades, sloppin' paint onto paper.
I most wish they hadn't gone to Europe.

I cal'late you'd have liked 'em, too." "Perhaps," said the helper, doubtfully.
"Oh, you would; no perhaps about it.

It don't seem right to see the bungalow all shuttered up and deserted this time of year.

You'd have liked to meet them young painters; they was your kind." "Yes, I know.

Perhaps that's why I shouldn't like to meet them." "Hey?
.