"He has called on papa twice within the week, dear," said the animated Flo in that confidential undertone which is the next thing to whispering; "and papa says it is the most absurd thing in the world to hear him ordering pictures: he has asked papa to paint him two. And when he was asked if he had any special idea of his own about the subject, he said no, but he wanted them to fit the recesses between the windows of his billiard-room at Pevenshall--he has a place called Pevenshall somewhere in that dreadful north; for he is rich--_à millions_, you know--_tout ce qu'il y a de plus Manchester_. His father and grandfather made all the money, and he is to spend it. I am sure he would never have made any for himself. But papa has declined the unfortunate young man's commission. Fancy one of papa's Cleopatras stinging herself to death between the windows of a Manchester man's billiard-room. There are men in Manchester who know art thoroughly, papa says; and it is utterly absurd for a painter to turn up his nose at the patronage of traders; for if you go into the galleries of those dear old sleepy towns in Belgium, you'll find that the noblest works of your Van Eycks and Hans what's-his-names were paid for by wealthy citizens; and what a blessing the modern patrons don't insist on having themselves painted, looking through cupboards, or riding on horseback, in the corner of a picture. Imagine a Manchester man's head poking through a hole in the sky in Mr. Millais' 'Vale of Rest,' or peering out of a cupboard in a corner of Mr. Frith's 'Derby Day!' However, papa has declined to paint anything for Mr. Lobyer; so the unfortunate young man will have no excuse for calling on unorthodox occasions." "But he must be a very stupid person, Florence. I cannot imagine your taking any interest in him."