This, as will be perceived, was skilfully designed to put him on his mettle, and rouse a useful spirit of emulation. He took the portrait of Iris from my hands and carried it to the light, where he examined it gravely in silence. 'I presume,' he said at length, 'that I need hardly tell you I cannot pledge myself to produce a result as pleasing as this--under the circumstances?' 'That,' I replied, 'rests entirely with you. If you overcome your natural diffidence, and do yourself full justice, _I_ see no reason why you should not obtain something even more satisfactory.' My encouragement almost unmanned him. He turned abruptly away and blew his nose violently with a coloured silk handkerchief. 'Come, come,' I said, smiling kindly, 'you see I have every confidence in you--let us begin. I don't know, by the way,' I added, with a sudden afterthought, 'whether in your leisure moments you take any interest in contemporary literature?' 'I--I have done so in my time,' he admitted; 'not very lately.' 'Then,' I continued, watching his countenance with secret amusement for the spasm I find this announcement invariably produces upon persons of any education, 'it may possibly call up some associations in your mind if I tell you that I am perhaps better known by my self-conferred _sobriquet_ of "Vitriol."' Evidently I had to do with a man of some intelligence--I obtained an even more electrical effect than usual. '"_Vitriol!_"' he cried, '_not_ surely Vitriol, the great critic?' 'The same,' I said carelessly. 'I thought I had better mention it.' 'You did well,' he rejoined, 'very well! Pardon my emotion--may I wring that hand?' It is not my practice to shake hands with a photographer, but I was touched and gratified by his boyish enthusiasm, and he seemed a gentlemanly young fellow too, so I made an exception in his favour; and he did wring my hand--hard. 'So you are Vitriol?' he repeated in a kind of daze, 'and you have sought me out--_me_, of all people in the world--to have the honour of taking your photograph!' 'That is so,' I said, 'but pardon me if I warn you that you must not allow your head to be turned by what is, in truth, due to the merest accident.' 'But what an accident!' he cried; 'after what I have learnt I really could not think of making any charge for this privilege!' That was a creditable and not unnatural impulse, and I did not check it. 'You shall take me as often as you please,' I said, 'and for nothing.' 'And may I,' he said, a little timidly--'would you give me permission to exhibit the results?' 'If I followed my own inclinations,' I replied, 'I should answer "certainly not." But perhaps I have no right to deprive you of the advertisement, and still less to withhold my unworthy features from public comment. I may, for private reasons,' I added, thinking of Iris, 'find it advisable to make some show of displeasure, but you need not fear my taking any proceedings to restrain you.'