"This Mr. Tyrrel," she said, in a tone of authoritative decision, "seems after all a very ordinary sort of person, quite a commonplace man, who, she dared say, had considered his condition, in going to the old alehouse, much better than they had done for him, when they asked him to the Public Rooms. He had known his own place better than they did--there was nothing uncommon in his appearance or conversation--nothing at all _frappant_--she scarce believed he could even draw that sketch. Mr. Winterblossom, indeed, made a great deal of it; but then all the world knew that every scrap of engraving or drawing, which Mr. Winterblossom contrived to make his own, was, the instant it came into his collection, the finest thing that ever was seen--that was the way with collectors--their geese were all swans." "And your ladyship's swan has proved but a goose, my dearest Lady Pen," said Lady Binks. "_My_ swan, dearest Lady Binks! I really do not know how I have deserved the appropriation." "Do not be angry, my dear Lady Penelope; I only mean, that for a fortnight and more you have spoke constantly _of_ this Mr. Tyrrel, and all dinner-time you spoke _to_ him." The fair company began to collect around, at hearing the word _dear_ so often repeated in the same brief dialogue, which induced them to expect sport, and, like the vulgar on a similar occasion, to form a ring for the expected combatants. "He sat betwixt us, Lady Binks," answered Lady Penelope, with dignity. "You had your usual headache, you know, and, for the credit of the company, I spoke for one." "For _two_, if your ladyship pleases," replied Lady Binks. "I mean," she added, softening the expression, "for yourself and me." "I am sorry," said Lady Penelope, "I should have spoken for one who can speak so smartly for herself, as my dear Lady Binks--I did not, by any means, desire to engross the conversation--I repeat it, there is a mistake about this man." "I think there is," said Lady Binks, in a tone which implied something more than mere assent to Lady Penelope's proposition. "I doubt if he is an artist at all," said the Lady Penelope; "or if he is, he must be doing things for some Magazine, or Encyclopedia, or some such matter." "_I_ doubt, too, if he be a professional artist," said Lady Binks. "If so, he is of the very highest class, for I have seldom seen a better-bred man." "There are very well-bred artists," said Lady Penelope. "It is the profession of a gentleman."