"`Well, I'm not,' I said testily. `I'll give him enough to eat, and a good bed to sleep on; and he'll have to put up with me dropping my "h's." But,' I added, slapping my pocket, `I can pay him like a gentleman.' "`Get out, you purse-proud old humbug!' said Smith, laughing, as he clapped me on the shoulder. `But there, I'm obliged to you. Have him down, and I'll thank you. He's a gentleman, and a man of honour.' "`Oh, I'm not afraid he'll steal the spoons,' I said, laughing. "`No,' he said dryly, `no fear of that. But you'll make a good picture.' "`Stuff!' I said. `Do you think I'm going to be painted?' "`Why, what are you going to do, then?' he asked in an astonished way. "`Let him paint little Cobweb,' I said, chuckling, and rubbing my hands. "Smith gave a long whistle, and his fingers twitched as if he were mending a sewing machine, and after a few more words he left. "It did not strike me then, but I remarked afterwards that he seemed disposed to draw back from his proposal; but I was now so wrapped up in my plans that I could think of nothing but the picture in the wood, and I went home full of it, meaning it for a surprise. "Two days later one of the servants announced a Mr Grantly on business, and, on his being shown in, I found myself face to face with a handsome, grave-looking man of about thirty. He was rather shabbily dressed, and looked pale and ill as he bowed to Cobweb and myself, ending by staring at my child, as I thought, in rather a peculiar way. "This annoyed me--a stout, choleric, elderly man--for no one had a right to look at my Cobweb but me and I spoke rather testily as I said-- "`Now, sir, when you please, I am at your service.' "`I beg your pardon,' he said, in a low voice. `Miss Burrows, I presume. One moment, please--don't move.' "Cobweb was sitting in the bay-window, and, to my utter astonishment, he quickly drew one of the curtains, and then half closed another, so that the light fell strongly upon her hair. "I could not speak for the passion bubbling up in my throat, and as I stood gasping, he came and took my arm, led me aside, and then, pointing to where Cobweb sat, as astounded as myself, he said-- "`That would be admirable, sir. We could not improve that natural pose.' "`What the dickens--Are you mad, sir? What do you mean?' "`I beg your pardon,' he said, flushing, and speaking hastily. `I am so wrapped up in my profession. I thought you understood. Mr Smith said you wished me to paint this young lady's portrait. Am I mistaken?' "`Chut!' I ejaculated, cooling on the instant. `I beg your pardon. Sit down, sir, sit down. You're hungry, of course. How stupid of me!-- Cobweb, my dear, order some lunch into the dining-room.'