Patching stalked
about the hall, and criticized the work as it progressed, from numerous
angles of observation; but even he confessed that he could make no
improvement on Stoop's highly artistic disposition of things.
The idiot worked on steadily and swiftly, and only two things
interrupted him. The first was the "Boo!" yelled through the keyhole, as
heretofore described. The second was the unrolling of portions of the
panorama as they were taken out of the boxes, fastened together, and
attached to the rollers.
As the canvas was unwound, Stoop would drop his saw, or hammer, or other
tool, and gaze, with his large mouth and small eyes wide open, at the
pictorial marvels successively disclosed. "Blame it!" said he; "a'n't
that splendid?" or, "By jingo! look at that!" or, "Thunder! don't that
beat all?" The tigers' tails and the elephants' trunks, the alligators'
snouts and the boa constrictor's convolutions, he recognized at once. He
had "read all about 'em in Olney's Jogriffy."
"He is an idiot of taste," thought Patching. "I wonder what they call
him an idiot for?" thought Tiffles.
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