The discovery not being a brilliant one, I took no trouble to confirm it; but Matt thereupon walked over to the canvas, and, stooping down, examined it with undisguised curiosity. Presently she glanced again at me. “‘I know what _this_ is,’ she cried, pointing. ‘It’s water. And that’s the sky. And that’s trees. And these here’--for a moment she seemed in doubt, but added hastily--‘pigs.’ “Now, as the subject represented a flock of sheep huddling together close to a pond on a rainy common, this suggestion was not over complimentary to my artistic skill. I was on the point of correcting my astute critic, when she added, after a moment’s further inspection-- “‘No; they’re sheep. Look ye now, I know! They’re sheep.’ “‘Pray, don’t touch the paint,’ I suggested, approaching her in some alarm. ‘It is wet, and comes off.’ “She drew back cautiously; and then, as a preliminary to further conversation, sat down on the grass, giving me further occasion to remark her length and shapeliness of limb. There was a free-and-easiness, not to say boldness, about her manner, tempered though it was with gusts of bashfulness, which began to amuse me. “‘Can you paint faces?’ she asked dubiously. “I replied that I could even aspire to that accomplishment, by which I understood her to mean portrait painting, if need were. She gave a quiet nod of satisfaction. “There was a painter chap came to Aberglyn last summer, and he painted William Jones.’ “‘Indeed?’ I said, with an assumption of friendly interest. “‘Yes; I wanted him to paint _me_, but he wouldn’t. He painted William Jones’s father though, along o’ William Jones.’ “This with an air of unmistakable disgust and recrimination. I looked at the girl more observantly. It had never occurred to me till that moment that she would make a capital picture,--just the sort of ‘study’ which would fetch a fair price in the market. I adopted her free and easy manner, which was contagious, and sat down on the grass opposite to her. “‘I tell you what it is, Matt,’ I said familiarly, ‘I’ll paint you, though the other painter chap wouldn’t.’ “‘You will!’ she cried, blushing with delight. “‘Certainly; and a very nice portrait I think you’ll make. Be good enough to take off your hat that I may have a better look at you.’ “She obeyed me at once, and threw the clumsy thing down on the grass beside her. Then I saw that her head was covered with short black curls, clinging round a bold white brow unfreckled by the sun. She glanced at me sidelong, laughing and showing her white teeth. Whatever her age was she was quite old enough to be a coquette. “Promptly as possible I put the question: ‘You have not told me how old you are?’ “‘Fifteen,’ she replied without hesitation. “‘I should have taken you to be at least a year older.’ “She shook her head. “‘It’s fifteen year come Whitsuntide,’ she explained, ‘since I come ashore.’