and a grimace
of pain, which he endeavoured to hide by an outbreak of painfully
artificial coughing.

"Shall we go upstairs?" said Robert hurriedly, anxious to divert his
guest's attention from this little domestic incident. "My studio is the
real atelier, for it is right up under the tiles. I shall lead the way,
if you will have the kindness to follow me."

Leaving Laura and Mr. McIntyre, they went up together to the workroom.
Mr. Haw stood long in front of the "Signing of Magna Charta," and
the "Murder of Thomas a Becket," screwing up his eyes and twitching
nervously at his beard, while Robert stood by in anxious expectancy.

"And how much are these?" asked Raffles Haw at last.

"I priced them at a hundred apiece when I sent them to London."

"Then the best I can wish you is that the day may come when you would
gladly give ten times the sum to have them back again. I am sure that
there are great possibilities in you, and I see that in grouping and in
boldness of design you have already achieved much. But your drawing, if
you will excuse my saying so, is just a little crude, and your colouring
perhaps a trifle thin. Now, I will make a bargain with you, Mr.
McIntyre, if you will consent to it. I know that money has no charms
for you, but still, as you said when I first met you, a man must live.
I shall buy these two canvases from you at the price which you name,
subject to the condition that you may always have them back again by
repaying the same sum."

"You are really very kind." Robert hardly knew whether to be delighted
at having sold his pictures or humiliated at the frank criticism of the
buyer.

"May I write a cheque at once?" said Raffles Haw. "Here is pen and ink.
So! I shall send a couple of footmen down for them in the afternoon.
Well, I shall keep them in trust for you. I dare say that when you are
famous they will be of value as specimens of your early manner."

"I am sure that I am extremely obliged to you, Mr. Haw," said the young
artist, placing the cheque in his notebook. He glanced at it as he
folded it up, in the vague hope that perhaps this man of whims had
assessed his pictures at a higher rate than he had named. The figures,
however, were exact. Robert began dimly to perceive that there were
drawbacks as well as advantages to the reputation of a money-scorner,
which he had gained by a few chance words, prompted rather by the
reaction against his father's than by his own real convictions.