e.
And then, when it is nicely finished, I will take it secretly to Mrs.
Blyth to give from me, as my present to Zack."

"Look there," said Valentine, turning from his picture towards Madonna,
"look, my boy, how carefully that dear good girl there is working from
the Antique! Only copy her example, and you may be able to draw from the
life in less than a year's time."

"You don't say so? I should like to sit down and begin at once. But,
look here, Blyth, when you say 'draw from the life,' there can't be the
smallest doubt, of course, about what you mean--but, at the same
time, if you would only be a little less professional in your way of
expressing yourself--"

"Good heavens, Zack, in what barbarous ignorance of art your parents
must have brought you up! 'Drawing from the life,' means drawing the
living human figure from the living human being which sits at a shilling
an hour, and calls itself a model."

"Ah, to be sure! Some of these very models whose names are chalked
up here over your fireplace?--Delightful! Glorious! Drawing from the
life--just the very thing I long for most. Hullo!" exclaimed Zack,
reading the memoranda, which it was Mr. Blyth's habit to scrawl, as they
occurred to him, on the wall over the chimney-piece--"Hullo! here's a
woman-model; 'Amelia Bibby'--Blyth! let me dash at once into drawing
from the life, and let me begin with Amelia Bibby."

"Nothing of the sort, Master Zack," said Valentine. "You may end with
Amelia Bibby, when you are fit to study at the Royal Academy. She's a
capital model, and so is her sister, Sophia. The worst of it is, they
quarreled mortally a little while ago; and now, if an artist has Sophia,
Amelia won't come to him. And Sophia of course returns the compliment,
and won't sit to Amelia's friends. It's awkward for people who used to
employ them both, as I did."

"What did they quarrel about?" inquired Zack.

"About a tea-pot," answered Mr. Blyth. "You see, they are daughters
of one of the late king's footmen, and are desperately proud of their
aristocratic origin. They used to live together as happy as birds,
without a hard word ever being spoken between them, till, one day, they
happened to break their tea-pot, which of course set them talking about
getting a new one. Sophia said it ought to be earthenware, like the
last; Amelia contradicted her, and said it ought to be metal. Sophia
said all the aristocracy used earthenware; Amelia said all the
aristocracy used