"Yes, I can. I tell you I make a lot of money, with commissions and all that, aside from my share in the Laughing Jane."
"Pd be very glad to receive ten shillings each for my pictures."
"How many could you paint in a month?"
"Oh, thirty or forty, if I worked hard."
"We fishermen will buy them."
The girl laughed joyously.
"Fishermen don't buy water-colours," she said.
"They ought to; they make their living on the water. But, you see, I sell, as I told you, on commission. If you promise me forty pictures by the end of August, I'll give you twenty pounds now, and take my chance of selling them for more than ten shillings each."
The girl laughed heartily. Painters are a merry, care-free folk, even when they are poor.
"You must surely think I am a highway robber. The price you offer is absurd, and you would never see a tithe of your money back again. I cannot accept so much, but give me ten pounds and I'll go to Pebblesdale the day after to-morrow, and hand over to you all the work I do there."
"It's a bargain! Here's two five-pound notes, and I will divide with you whatever I get beyond the ten pounds."
"Agreed, so long as you allow me to share equally in the loss, should there be a loss."
"Oh, there won't be any loss."
