However, he saw inevitable confession ahead, and braced himself to the task. "Really, Stump," said he, "it would make you cry with laughing to know who it was that was at the bottom of it. I said 'Fanny grandmother,' just now, but at any rate Fanny Smith's a tailor's wife with no legs to speak of, who sits on the counter, and a very nice girl if you know her. I mean there's no fundamental absurdity in Fanny Smith. This was." Which wasn't good speechwork, but, oh dear, how little use accuracy is! "Who was it then?" Mr. Hughes left one eye shut, under an implied contract to reopen it as soon as the answer came to his question. "Well!" said Mr. Aiken reluctantly. "If you _must_ have it, it was Sairah!" He was really relieved when his friend looked honestly puzzled, repeating after him "Sairah! What!--the gurl!" in genuine astonishment. It was now evident that the Idea would have to stand over. Mr. Hughes said farewell to it, almost audibly; then said "Stop a minute!" and lit a pipe; then settled down in a rocking chair to listen, saying, "Now, my boy!--off you go." He was a long and loose-limbed person who picked his knees up alternately with both hands, as though to hold his legs on. Whenever he did this, the slipper in that connexion came off, with the effect of bringing its owner's sock into what is called keeping with the rest of the Studio, one which many persons would have considered untidy. After which Mr. Aiken went off, or on--whichever you prefer. "Of course I don't expect you fellers to do anything but chaff, you know. But it's jolly unpleasant, for all that. It was like this, don't you see? A young female swell had brought her sweetheart--I suppose, unless he was her cousin--to see a picture I'm cleaning for her parent, who's a Bart. In Worcestershire. Know him? Sir Stopleigh Upwell." Mr. Hughes didn't, that he could call to mind, after a mental search which seemed to imply great resources in Barts. "Well--she was an awfully jolly girl, but quite that sort." Mr. Aiken tried to indicate by gesture, a fashionably dressed young lady with a stylish figure, and failed. But Mr. Hughes, an Impressionist Artist, could understand, and nodded prompt appreciation. So Mr. Aiken continued: "When they cleared out, Euphemia said the young woman was 'up-to-date.' And I suppose she was...." "Oh certainly--quite up to date--not a doubt of it!" "Well--I made believe not to know the meaning of the expression, just to take a rise out of Euphemia. And you know she has just _one_ fault--she's so matter-of-fact! She said everyone knew the meaning of 'up-to-date,' that knew anything. Ask anybody! Ask her Aunt Priscilla--and I certainly wasn't going to run the risk--like bearding a tigress in her den with impertinent questions!--or Mrs. Verity the landlady. Or, for that matter, ask the gurl, Sairah! That's where _she_ came in, Stump." Mr. Aiken seemed to hang fire.