Percivale felt as if he were setting out his children for sale, as he invited him to look about the room, and turned round a few from against the wall. The great man flitted hither and thither, spying at one after another through the cylinder of his curved hand, Percivale going on with his painting as if no one were there. "How much do you want for this sketch?" asked Mr. Baddeley, at length, pointing to one of the most highly finished paintings in the room. "I put three hundred on it at the Academy Exhibition," answered Percivale. "My friends thought it too little; but as it has been on my hands a long time now, and pictures don't rise in price in the keeping of the painter, I shouldn't mind taking two for it." "Two tens, I suppose you mean," said Mr. Baddeley. "I gave him a look," said Percivale, as he described the interview to me; and I knew as well as if I had seen it what kind of a phenomenon that look must have been. "Come, now," Mr. Baddeley went on, perhaps misinterpreting the look, for it was such as a man of his property was not in the habit of receiving, "you mustn't think I'm made of money, or that I'm a green hand in the market. I know what your pictures fetch; and I'm a pretty sharp man of business, I believe. What do you really mean to say and stick to? Ready money, you know." "Three hundred," said Percivale coolly. "Why, Mr. Percivale!" cried Mr. Baddeley, drawing himself up, as my husband said, with the air of one who knew a trick worth two of that, "I paid Mr. ---- fifty pounds, neither more nor less, for a picture of yours yesterday--a picture, allow me to say, worth"-- He turned again to the one in question with a critical air, as if about to estimate to a fraction its value as compared with the other. "Worth three of that, some people think," said Percivale. "The price of this, then, joking aside, is--?" "Three hundred pounds," answered Percivale,--I know well how quietly. "I understood you wished to sell it," said Mr. Baddeley, beginning, for all his good nature, to look offended, as well he might. "I do wish to sell it. I happen to be in want of money." "Then I'll be liberal, and offer you the same I paid for the other. I'll send you a check this afternoon for fifty--with pleasure." "You cannot have that picture under three hundred." "Why!" said the rich man, puzzled, "you offered it for two hundred, not five minutes ago." "Yes; and you pretended to think I meant two tens." "Offended you, I fear." "At all events, betrayed so much ignorance of painting, that I would rather not have a picture of mine in your house." "You're the first man ever presumed to tell me I was ignorant of painting," said Mr. Baddeley, now thoroughly indignant. "You have heard the truth, then, for the first time," said Percivale, and resumed his work. Mr. Baddeley walked out of the study.