seriousness, while
the artist made a vermilion smudge on his canvas as the ground plan of a
sunset.

"No, sir, no time. Your father keeps me too busy."

"Shame," said Will. "Why, my father was saying only the other day that
you had done so much good work for him all your life, that he would be
very pleased to see you take things a bit easier now; so there."

"'Tain't true," said the man.

"What!" cried Will, his face growing very red. "Don't you believe what
I say?"

"Not that exactly; but you don't know all I've done--no more than Mr
Willows does, nor Mr Manners."

"Oh, doesn't he?" said Will.

"I know you to be a very faithful and good friend, Drinkwater," said the
artist, making a dab, and then leaning back in his chair with his head
on one side to judge the effect.

"Look at him," said Will, in a whisper, to Josh. "He always wags his
head like that when he's at work painting. What does he do it for?"

"Oh, I heard what you said," continued the artist. "I do it because I
can judge distance better that way. But as I was saying, Drinkwater
here is a very good friend indeed, and if it had not been for his
kindness, my little accident would have been twice as annoying as it is.
Thanks to his help, I am able to go out painting and fishing all the
same, and I am very grateful to him."

"I don't want that, master," said the man. "I don't want thanks;" and
he slouched off, leaving the boys and the artist to continue the
conversation.

"Surly old toad!" said Will. "What's wrong with him?"

"Something must have put him out," said the artist.

"But he's always getting into his nasty tempers."

"Ah, well, he'll soon come round. He has been most thoughtful for me."

"But I say, Mr Manners," said Josh, "you will be able to come fishing
to-night, won't you?"

"Don't know," said the artist.

"Oh, yes," cried Will. "We will look after you; won't we, Josh?"

"Of course."

"All right, I'll come; but in a few days, you know, I shall be quite all
right again."

"Hooray!" cried Will. "But I was forgetting: father sent me up here
with his compliments, and he hopes you are going on A1."

"So did mine," said Josh.

"I am very grateful to Mr Willows and Mr Carlile," said the artist.
"Very kind of them to have thought of me."

Mr Manners' prophecy was quite right. In a few days practically all
trace of his unfortunate mishap on the Tor had vanished, and there
followed not merely one fishing trip, bu