Ricky's table-cloth of violent-hued peasant linen was not
in keeping with the china and glassware Letty-Lou had set out upon it.
Charity was commenting upon this ensemble as Val entered.
"Doesn't this red and green plaid seem a bit--well, bright?" The corners
of her mouth twitched betrayingly.
"No," Ricky returned firmly. "This cloth matches the ducks."
"Oh, yes, the ducks," Charity eyed them. "So you consider that the ducks
are the note you wish to emphasize?"
"Certainly." Ricky surveyed the picture hanging opposite her. "I
consider them unique. Not everyone can have ducks in the dining-room
nowadays."
"For which they should be eternally thankful," observed Rupert. "They
are rather gaudy, aren't they?"
"Oh, but I like the expression in this one's glassy eye," Ricky pointed
out. "You might call this study 'Gone But Not Forgotten.'"
"Corn-bread, please," Val asked, thus attempting to put an end to the
art-appreciation class.
"I think," continued Ricky, undisturbed as she passed him the plate
heaped with golden squares, "that they are slightly surrealist. They
distinctly resemble the sort of things one is often pursued by in one's
brighter nightmares."
"Do you have any really good pictures?" asked Charity, resolutely
averting her gaze from the ducks.
"Three, but they've been loaned to the museum," answered Rupert. "Not by
well-known painters, but they're historically interesting.
Pages:
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100