Still engaged in discussion, they entered the gates of the Manor House, and Mr. Brookes was told that Frank would stay at Southwick a few days longer, so that he might arrange about a studio. The news was not at first wholly pleasing to the old gentleman, but he remembered the anecdotes he should hear concerning his favourite painters, and was consoled. The evening passed away in the security and calm of habit, sweetened by the intimacy of familiar thoughts and customs. There was the usual expensive dinner; Mr. Brookes lit a cigar, handed the box to Frank, and said, puffing lustily, “That's a good picture, paid a lot of money for it, too much money, mustn't do it again. You were a pupil of Bouguereau; great painter; you have seen him paint; you would know his touch amid a thousand, I suppose?” About ten o'clock steps in the passage, then the squeak-squeak of the cork; then the goggle-guggle of the water, and the young ladies came in with their grog. They kissed their father and brother, shook hands with Frank, and went to bed. Further anecdotes concerning the painters were told; further condemnations of the Southdown Road were pronounced; the house was locked up; Mr. Brookes retired, and the young men continued the conversation in their rooms. Willy told Frank all about his shop, Frank told Willy all about his studio, and they went to sleep delighted with each other and at peace with the world. Mr. Brookes had gone when the young men came down next morning. Willy was down first, and when Frank finished breakfast he found him busy in the garden making purchases for his shop. “How much am I to charge for these peaches, sir?” said the gardener. “I intend to pay the market price for everything. I don't know what peaches are selling at in Covent Garden. I will look it up and let you know. I am taking two dozen.” “Yes, sir, there are only very few more ripe.” “It is a pity I can't have them all,” Willy whispered to Frank. “There is a tremendous profit to be made on peaches. Now, I want some new potatoes. How many can you let me have?” “Really, sir, we are very short; you see it is so early in the year. We have only a few, none too many for the house.” “I must have some, if it is only a sample. How much are potatoes selling at now?” “Well, sir, I hardly know. Last year we bought some off Hooper at--” “These are the things I have to contend with. How am I to keep my books right if I don't know exactly the price things are selling for? I may be paying more for his potatoes than they are selling in Brighton for. My father gets more out of the shop than any one, and he isn't satisfied.”