kerb, softly, lingeringly polishing his yellow oranges to a clean gleam, and lingeringly, delicately arranging the little piles, the pyramids for two or three cents each.
Queer work, for a big, handsome, male-looking man. But they seem to prefer these childish jobs.
The University was a Spanish building that had been done up spick and span, and given over to the young artists to decorate. Since the revolutions, nowhere had authority and tradition been so finally overthrown as in the Mexican fields of science and art. Science and art are the sport of the young. Go ahead, my boys!
The boys had gone ahead. But even then, the one artist of distinction was no longer a boy, and he had served a long apprenticeship in Europe.
Kate had seen the reproductions of some of Riberas’ frescoes. Now she went round the patios of the University, looking at the originals. They were interesting: the