"as a slight but sincere
token"--and so forth. A timely recommendation from one of my kindest
friends and patrons placed the commission for painting the likeness in
my lucky hands; and I was instructed to attend on a certain day at Mr.
Boxsious's private residence, with all my materials ready for taking a
first sitting.

On arriving at the house, I was shown into a very prettily furnished
morning-room. The bow-window looked out on a large inclosed meadow,
which represented the principal square in Tidbury. On the opposite side
of the meadow I could see the new hotel (with a wing lately added), and
close by, the old hotel obstinately unchanged since it had first been
built. Then, further down the street, the doctor's house, with a colored
lamp and a small door-plate, and the banker's office, with a plain lamp
and a big door-plate--then some dreary private lodging-houses--then,
at right angles to these, a street of shops; the cheese-monger's very
small, the chemist's very smart, the pastry-cook's very dowdy, and
the green-grocer's very dark, I was still looking out at the view thus
presented, when I was suddenly apostrophized by a glib, disputatious
voice behind me.

"Now, then, Mr. Artist," cried the voice, "do you call that getting
ready for work? Where are your paints and brushes, and all the rest of
it? My name's Boxsious, and I'm here to sit for my picture."

I turned round, and confronted a little man with his legs astraddle,
and his hands in his pockets. He had light-gray eyes, red all round the
lids, bristling pepper-colored hair, an unnaturally rosy complexion, and
an eager, impudent, clever look. I made two discoveries in one glance
at him: First, that he was a wretched subject for a portrait; secondly,
that, whatever he might do or say, it would not be of the least use for
me to stand on my dignity with him.

"I shall be ready directly, sir," said I.

"Ready directly?" repeated my new sitter. "What do you mean, Mr. Artist,
by ready directly? I'm ready now. What was your contract with the Town
Council, who have subscribed for this picture? To paint the portrait.
And what was my contract? To sit for it. Here am I ready to sit, and
there are you not ready to paint me. According to all the rules of law
and logic, you are committing a breach of contract already. Stop! let's
have a look at your paints. Are they the best quality? If not, I warn
you, sir, there's a second breach of contract! Brushes, too? Why,
th