“‘No fear!’ she repeated, with her sharp shake of the head. ‘How could he give it me, when he was drownded and come ashore? William Jones gave it to me, and I altered it my own self, look ye now, to make it fit.’ “She was certainly an extraordinary young person, and wore her mysterious finery with a coolness I thought remarkable, it being quite clear, from her explanation, that all was fish that came to her net, or, in other words, that dead men’s clothes were as acceptable to her unprejudiced taste as any others. However, the time was hastening on, and I had my promise to keep. So I got my crayon materials, and made Matt sit down before me on a stool, first insisting, however, that she should divest herself of her head-gear, which was an abomination, but which she discarded with extreme reluctance. Directly I began, she became rigid, and fixed herself, so to speak, as people do when being photographed--her eyes glaring on vacancy, her whole face lost in self-satisfied vacuity. “‘You needn’t keep like that,’ I cried, ‘I want your face to have some expression. Move your head about as much as you like, laugh and talk--it will be all the better.’ “‘Last time I was took,’ she replied, ‘the chap said I mustn’t move.’ “‘Ah! I suppose he was a travelling photographer.’ “He had a little black box, like, on legs, and a cloth on top of it, and he looked at me through a hole in the middle. Then he cried, ‘Now,’ and held up his hand for me to keep still as a mouse; then he counted fifty--and I was took.’ “‘Ah! Indeed! Was it a good likeness?’” “‘Yes, master. But I looked like the black woman who come ashore last Easter was a year.’” “With conversation like this we beguiled the time, while I proceeded rapidly with my drawing. At the end of a couple of hours Matt had become so fidgety that I thought it advisable to give her a rest. She sprang up and ran over to inspect the picture. The moment her eyes fell upon it, she uttered a rapturous cry. “‘Look ye now, ain’t it pretty? Master, am I like _that?_’ “I answered her it was an excellent likeness, and not too flattering. Her face fell however a little as she proceeded. “‘Are my cheeks as red as that, master?’” “‘You are red, Matt,’ I replied, flippantly; ‘so are the roses.’” “She looked at me thoughtfully. ‘When it’s finished, will you give it to me to keep?’ “‘Well, we shall see.’ “‘I gave t’other chap a shilling for his, frame and all, but I’ve got no more money,’ she continued, with an insinuating smile, which, as a man of gallantry, I could not resist. So I promised that, if she behaved herself properly, I would in all probability make her the present she coveted. “‘You must come again to-morrow,’ I said, as we shook hands, ‘and I’ll finish the thing off.’ “’ All right, master, I’ll come.’ “And, with a nod and a bright smile, she walked away.