A SON AT THE FRONT
George's staff-town and the fiery pit yawning for his cousin. Campton laid aside the letter with the distinct wish that his son had not called Benny Upsher a young lunatic.
XIV
When Campton took his sketch of George to Léonce Black, the dealer who specialized in "Camptons," he was surprised at the magnitude of the sum which the great picture-broker, lounging in a glossy War Office uniform among his Gauguins and Vuillards, immediately offered.
Léonce Black noted his surprise and smiled. "You think there's nothing doing nowadays? Don't you believe it, Mr. Campton. Now that the big men have stopped painting, the collectors are all the keener to snap up what's left in their portfolios." He placed the cheque in Campton's hand, and drew back to study the effect of the sketch, which he had slipped into a frame against a velvet curtain. "Ah———" he said, as if he were tasting an old wine.
As Campton turned to go the dealer's enthusiasm bubbled over. "Haven't you got anything more? Remember me if you have."
"I don't sell my sketches," said Campton. "This was exceptional—for a charity. . . "
"I know, I know. Well, you're likely to have a good many more calls of the same sort before we get this
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