The famous “Peacock Room” at Prince’s Gate was a wonderful scheme of decoration, peacocks’ eyes on a gold ground being its principal _motif_. About the year 1880 the late Mr. Leyland, a wealthy shipowner and patron of the arts, had taken this grand new mansion, and asked Whistler to decorate a room. Jimmy, poor and out at elbows, as usual, jumped at the idea, but no terms were fixed upon. The work began. It was a prodigious undertaking, and the extraordinary and erratic little man spent two years and a half over his grateful task. Being at Prince’s Gate all day, and having the run of Leyland’s house, Whistler had a hospitable way of inviting his friends to come and see the room, and then he would ask them to stop to luncheon. This sort of thing, which began occasionally, ended in being an almost daily occurrence, and Jimmy used to hold a little levée every morning, when subsequently three, four, and five people remained to luncheon. This became too much for Mr. Leyland, and his plan for putting an end to the campaign was a somewhat ingenious one. Jimmy one day entertained four friends; the meal not being announced, he rang the bell for the butler. “When is lunch?” he asked. “I have no orders for lunch,” replied the man with a stately air. “Oh no, of course,” replied Jimmy, not in the least disconcerted. “We’ll go along to such and such an hotel. Stupid of me to forget it!” But it was enough, and though he pretended not to mind, and with that delightful impudence for which he was famous turned it off, he never forgave the incident, and determined to pay Leyland out. From that day he took his own lunch in a little paper parcel, and sat and devoured it when so inclined. On the next occasion Leyland came in to admire the peacock decorations about the usual luncheon hour. “_You_ will have some lunch, won’t you?” Whistler said. Leyland looked surprised. “Oh, please don’t refuse. It is always excellent, I assure you.” Leyland looked still more uncomfortable. Up jumped Jimmy, fetched his bag, and proceeded to untie his parcels, saying: “It’s all right, old chap, have no anxiety; it is my lunch, not yours, and you are heartily welcome to it.” When the work was accomplished which had taken so long Leyland wished to pay the bill, and asked the artist what was his figure. “I have worked a whole year and more,” Whistler said. “I consider my services are worth two thousand pounds a year, therefore the figure is two thousand five hundred pounds, from which you can deduct the few hundreds you have given me on account.” Leyland was horrified. “Preposterous!” he said, “perfectly preposterous!” Jimmy looked at him and drew himself up to his full height, which was not great. “I beg, Mr. Leyland, that you will accept as a gift the entire work of my life for the last year and a quarter. I can compromise nothing.”