"Taking views! I'm a painter, an artist! I'll take your portrait, if you like!" said Claude, laughing more and more. "Bless my heart, what vules we be! 'Tis a paainter gentleman, lads!" roared he. "What on earth did you take me for? A Russian spy?" The elder shook his head; grinned solemnly; and peace was concluded. "We'm old-fashioned folks here, you see, sir; and don't like no new-fangled meddlecomes. You'll excuse us; you'm very welcome to do what you like, and glad to see you here." And the old fellow made a stately bow, and moved away. "No, no! you must stay and have your portrait taken; you'll make a fine picture." "Hum; might ha', they used to say, thirty years agone; I'm over old now. Still, my old woman might like it. Make so bold, sir, but what's your charge?" "I charge nothing. Five minutes' talk with an honest man will pay me." "Hum: if you'd a let me pay you, sir, well and good; but I maunt take up your time for nought; that's not fair." However, Claude prevailed, and in ten minutes he had all the sailors on the quay round him; and one after another came forward blushing and grinning to be "taken off." Soon the children gathered round, and when Valencia and Major Campbell came on the pier, they found Claude in the midst of a ring of little dark-haired angels; while a dozen honest fellows grinned when their own visages appeared, and chaffed each other about the sweethearts who were to keep them while they were out at sea. And in the midst little Claude laughed and joked, and told good stories, and gave himself up, the simple, the sunny-hearted fellow, to the pleasure of pleasing, till he earned from one and all the character of "the pleasantest-spokenest gentleman that was ever into the town." "Here's her ladyship! make room for her ladyship!" But Claude held up a warning hand. He had just arranged a masterpiece,--half-a-dozen of the prettiest children, sitting beneath a broken boat, on spars, sails, blocks, lobster-pots, and what not, arranged in picturesque confusion; while the black-bearded sea-kings round were promising them rock and bulls-eyes, if they would only sit still like "gude maids." But at Valencia's coming the children all looked round, and jumped up and curtsied, and then were afraid to sit down again. "You have spoilt my group, Miss St. Just, and you must mend it!" Valencia caught the humour, regrouped them all forthwith; and then placed herself in front of them by Claude's side. "Now, be good children! Look straight at me, and listen!" And lifting up her finger, she began to sing the first song of which she could think, "The Landing of the Pilgrim Fathers."