"If these were mine," said Schmidt, "I could not for ever sell them.
What pleasure to see them grow and steal to themselves such sweet colors
out of the rainbow which is in the light!"
"Thee would make a poor gardener," said Wholesome, "sitting on thee
fence in the sun and watching thee pumpkins--damn nasty things anyhow!"
I looked up amazed at the oath, but Schmidt did not seem to remark it,
and went on with us, lingering here and there to please himself with the
lovely contrasts of the autumn fruit.
"Curious man is Schmidt," remarked Wholesome as we passed along. "I
could wish thee had seen him when we took him this way first. Old Betsey
yonder sells magnolia flowers in June, and also pond-lilies, which thee
may know as reasonably pleasant things to thee or me; but of a sudden I
find our friend Schmidt kneeling on the pavement with his head over a
tub of these flowers, and every one around much amazed."
"Was it not seemly?" said Schmidt, joining us. "There are who like
music, but to me what music is there like the great attunement of color?
and mayhap no race can in this rise over our black artists hereabout the
market-ends."
"Thee is crazed of many colors," said Wholesome laughing--"a bull of but
one."
Schmidt stopped short in the crowd, to Wholesome's disgust. "What," said
he, quite forgetful of the crowd, "is more cordial than color? This he
recalleth was a woman black as night, with a red turban and a lapful of
magnolias, and to one side red crabs in a basket, and to one side a
tubful of lilies.
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