just entering on her teens, to ask three pounds for what? for becoming immortal on the canvas of Francis Vance! bother!"
Here Vance felt a touch on his shoulder. He turned round quickly, as a man out of temper does under similar circumstances, and beheld the swart face of the Cobbler.
"Well, master, did not she act fine?—how d'ye like her?"
"Not much in her natural character; but she sets a mighty high value on herself."
"Anan, I don't take you."
"She'll not catch me taking her! Three pounds!—three kingdoms."
"Stay," cried Lionel to the Cobbler; "did not you say she lodged with you? Are you Mr. Merle?"
"Merle's my name, and she do lodge with me—Willow Lane."
"Come this way, then, a few yards down the road—more quiet. Tell me what the child means, if you can!" and Lionel related the offer of his friend, the reply of the manager, and the grasping avarice of Miss Juliet Araminta.
The Cobbler made no answer; and when the young friends, surprised at his silence, turned to look at him, they saw he was wiping his eyes with his sleeve.
"Poor little thing!" he said at last, and still more pathetically than he had uttered the same words at her appearance in front of the stage; "'tis all for her grandfather, I guess—I guess."
"Oh," cried Lionel, joyfully, "I am so glad to think that. It alters the whole case, you see, Vance."
"It don't alter the case of the three pounds," grumbled Vance. "What's her grandfather to me, that I should give his grandchild three pounds, when any other child in the village would have leaped out of her skin to have her face upon my sketch-book and five shillings in her pocket. Hang her grandfather!"
They were now in the main road. The Cobbler seated himself on a lonely milestone, and looked first at one of the faces before him, then at the other; that of Lionel seemed to attract him the most, and in speaking it was Lionel whom he addressed.
"Young master," he said, "it is now just four years ago when Mr. Rugge, coming here, as he and his troop had done at Fair time ever sin' I can mind of, brought with him the man you have seen to-night, William Waife; I calls him Gentleman Waife. However that man fell into such straits—how he came
