aw at once that he was readily susceptible to flattery.

'You will find me,' I told him frankly, 'a little more difficult to
satisfy than your ordinary _clientele_; but, on the other hand, I am
peculiarly capable of appreciating really good work. Now I was struck at
once by the delicacy of tone, the nice discrimination of values, the
atmosphere, gradation, feeling, and surface of the examples displayed in
your window.'

He bowed almost to the ground; but, having taken careful note of his
prices, I felt secure in commending him, even to the verge of
extravagance; and, besides, does not the artistic nature demand the
stimulus of praise to enable it to put forth its full powers?

He inquired in what style I wished to be taken, whether full-length,
half-length, or vignette. 'I will answer you as concisely as possible,'
I said. 'I have been pressed, by one whose least preference is a law to
me, to have a photograph of myself executed which shall form a
counterpart or pendant, as it were, to her own. I have, therefore, taken
the precaution to bring her portrait with me for your guidance. You will
observe it is the work of a firm in my opinion greatly
overrated--Messrs. Lenz, Kamerer, & Co.; and, while you will follow it
in style and the disposition of the accessories, you will, I make no
doubt, produce, if you take ordinary pains, a picture vastly superior in
artistic merit.'

This, as will be perceived, was skilfully designed to put him on his
mettle, and rouse a useful spirit of emulation. He took the portrait of
Iris from my hands and carried it to the light, where he examined it
gravely in silence.

'I presume,' he said at length, 'that I need hardly tell you I cannot
pledge myself to produce a result as pleasing as this--under the
circumstances?'

'That,' I replied, 'rests entirely with you. If you overcome your
natural diffidence, and do yourself full justice, _I_ see no reason why
you should not obtain something even more satisfactory.'

My encouragement almost unmanned him. He turned abruptly away and blew
his nose violently with a coloured silk handkerchief.

'Come, come,' I said, smiling kindly, 'you see I have every confidence
in you--let us begin. I don't know, by the way,' I added, with a sudden
afterthought, 'whether in your leisure moments you take any interest in
contemporary literature?'

'I--I have done so in my time,' he admitted; 'not very lately.'

'Then,' I continued, watching his countenance