e chairs before me, so that they can't come right up to me; and,
Triplet, don't let them come within six yards, if you can help it. Say
it is unfinished, and so must be seen from a focus."

"A focus! I don't know what you mean."

"No more do I; no more will they, perhaps; and if they don't they will
swallow it directly. Unlock the door. Are they coming?"

"They are only at the first stair."

"Mr. Triplet, your face is a book, where one may read strange matters.
For Heaven's sake, compose yourself. Let all the risk lie in one
countenance. Look at me, sir. Make your face like the Book of Daniel in
a Jew's back parlor. Volto Sciolto is your cue."

"Madam, madam, how your tongue goes! I hear them on the stairs. Pray
don't speak!"

"Do you know what we are going to do?" continued the tormenting Peggy.
"We are going to weigh goose's feathers! to criticise criticism, Trip--"

"Hush! hush!"

A grampus was heard outside the door, and Triplet opened it. There was
Quin leading the band.

"Have a care, sir," cried Triplet; "there is a hiatus the third step
from the door."

"A _gradus ad Parnassum_ a wanting," said Mr. Cibber.

Triplet's heart sank. The hole had been there six months, and he had
found nothing witty to say about it, and at first sight Mr. Cibber had
done its business. And on such men he and his portrait were to attempt
a preposterous delusion. Then there was Snarl, who wrote critiques on
painting, and guided the national taste. The unlucky exhibitor was in a
cold sweat. He led the way, like a thief going to the gallows.

"The picture being unfinished, gentlemen," said he, "must, if you would
do me justice, be seen from a--a focus; must be judged from here, I
mean."

"Where, sir?" said Mr. Cibber.

"About here, sir, if you please," said poor Triplet faintly.

"It looks like a finished picture from here," said Mrs. Clive.

"Yes, madam," groaned Triplet.

They all took up a position, and Triplet timidly raised his eyes along
with the rest. He was a little surprised. The actress had flattened
her face! She had done all that could be done, and more than he had
conceived possible, in the way of extracting life and the atmosphere of
expression from her countenance. She was "dead still!"

There was a pause. Triplet fluttered. At last some of them spoke as
follows:

_Soaper._ "Ah!"

_Quin._ "Ho!"

_Clive._ "Eh!"

_Cibber._ "Humph!"

These interjections are small on paper, but as the good creatur