Dick Carew, the son of a soap-maker, and Dorothy Wilton, the daughter of a lawyer, meet in Paris, where they have gone from America to imbibe an atmosphere sicklied with artistic buncomb by the Cubists. The young man, visiting a cabaret, the meeting place of frowsy post-impressionists, is impressed with their windy theories, mainly denunciations of everything that common sense and decency understand. Dick is just ignorant enough about art to be impressed with this buncomb, and takes Dorothy to the Cubist. Their fathers come to Paris to visit them, and are allowed to go to a night class where the merry maniacs are studying a model that has been distorted artificially by Cubes in order to impress the unimaginary, so that the face of the boxy model is the only semblance to “the human form divine.” The fathers naturally think they need the services of an alienist instead of an artist, to tell them what it is all about. The parents are next dragged to an exhibition of the raw art products, and gaze with wonder at the inscrutable crude color markings on the wall. The judges pick out two lovely nudes, that look like a jumble of jack-straws, the complications of Jacksat-the-easel, and award them the first prizes. These strange things are from the brushes of their children, and, by a trick in photography, they reveal from the seeming wreckage, the faces of their fathers.