henry smiled hopefully at the painting of a sad clown being held up by the bag lady. henry was smiling, and so was the bag lady, and so was agatha, smiling more broadly than henry and the bag lady put together.
henry had seen the bag lady in another life, as he had seen most people.
do you like it? agatha enquired jauntily.
i love it, henry said.
in that case, li will purchase it and we can go to dinner, agatha replied with an air of finality.
will this lady accompany us? henry asked.
good heavens, no! whatever gave you such an idea, agatha retorted with one of her trademark lusty laughs.
agatha turned to the bag lady. how much do you want for it? she asked.
whatever you care to pay, ma’am, the bag lady replied.
in that case i will give you a lousy dime.
thank you, ma’am, i appreciate it.
henry, take charge of this precious artwork, will you?
when will i ever learn, henry wondered sadly, as he took the surprisingly heavy canvas from the gamely smiling bag lady.
but he kept his smile on his face as always, as he escorted agatha to the limousine, and they went to dinner.
dinner was
a) a great success
b) a disaster
c) acceptable
d) marred somewhat by an unfortunate incident with the waitress
agatha took the painting home and
a) put it a closet and forgot it
b) hung it up where it amused all her friends
c) gave it to one of her maids
d) exhibited as her own and received ——————— from its sale
e) the clown in the painting came to life and —————
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