“It’s a fine picture,” said Daniells; “Mr. Sandford, he’s one of the very best of our modern masters, sir. He has got a great name, and beautiful his pictures look in a gallery with the others to set ’em off. Hung on the line in the Academy, and collected crowds. I shouldn’t ’a been surprised if they’d ’ad to put a rail round it like they did to Mr. Frith’s.” He gave a wink at Mr. Sandford as he spoke, which made our poor painter sick. “I’ve got one of Frith’s,” said the millionaire. “You’ll ’ave got one of every modern artist worth counting when you’ve got Mr. Sandford’s,” said Daniells, with a pat upon the shoulder to his wealthy client. That gentleman turned round, putting his hands into his pockets. “I’ve seen some pictures as I liked better,” he said. “Yes, I know. You’ve seen that one o’ Millais’, a regular stunner; but, God bless you, that’s but one figger, and twice the money. Look at the work in that,” cried the dealer, turning his man round again, who gave the picture another condescending inspection from one corner to the other. “I don’t deny there’s a deal of work in it,” he said, “if it’s painted fair with everything from the life; and I don’t mind taking it to complete my collection; but I’ll expect to have that considered in the price,” he added, turning once more on the painter. “You see, Mr. ---- (What’s the gentleman’s name, Daniells?) I am not death on the picture for itself. It’s a fine showy picture, and I don’t doubt ’t’ll look well when it’s hung; but big things like that, as don’t tell their story plain, they’re not exactly my taste. However, it’s all right since Daniells says so. The only man I know that goes in for that sort of thing thinks all the world of Daniells. ‘Go to Daniells,’ he says, ‘and you’ll be all right.’ So I’ll take the picture, but I’ll expect a hundred or two off for ready money. I suppose there’s discount in all trades.” “Say fifty off, and you’ll do very well, and get a fine thing cheap,” said Daniells. Mr. Sandford’s countenance had darkened. He was very amiable, very courteous, much indisposed to bargaining, but he felt as if his customer had jumped upon him, and it was all he could do to contain himself. “I never make----” he began, with a little haughtiness most unusual to him; but before he had said the final words he caught Daniells’ eye, who was making anxious signs to him. The picture dealer twisted his face into a great many contortions. He raised his eyebrows, he moved his lips, he made all kinds of gestures; at last, under a pretence of looking at a sketch, he darted between Mr. Sandford and the other, and in a hoarse whisper said “Take it,” imperatively, in the painter’s ear.