football; and mouth, not
coarse, but large and freely cut, and falling readily into lines of
sarcasm.

The general look was one of great acuteness, rather antagonistic, as
a rule, than sympathetic; and the hands, which were large and yet
slender, were those of a craftsman finely endowed with all the
instincts of touch.

Suddenly the young man turned on his heel and looked at the
water-colours on the wall.

'The old hypocrite!' he thought; 'they're worth hundreds--and I'll be
bound he got them for nothing. He'll try to get mine for nothing; but
he'll find I'm his match!'

For among these pictures were a number of drawings by men long since
well known, and of steady repute among the dealers or in the auctions,
especially of Birmingham and the northern towns. Morrison had been for
years a bank-clerk in Birmingham before his appointment to the post
he now held. A group of Midland artists, whose work had become famous,
and costly in proportion, had evidently been his friends at one
time--or perhaps merely his debtors. They were at any rate well
represented on the wall of this small Westmoreland house in which he
spent his holidays.

Presently Mr. Morrison was heard returning. He placed an envelope in
Fenwick's hand, and then, pointing him to a chair at the table, he
dictated a form of IOU, specifying that the debt was to be returned
within a year, either in money or in the pictures agreed upon.

'Oh, no fine speeches, please, my boy--no fine speeches!' said
Morrison, as the artist rose, stammering out his thanks. 'That's been
my nature all my life, I tell you--to help the lame dogs--ask anybody
that knows me. That'll do; that'll do! Now then, what's going to be
your line of action?'

Fenwick turned on him a face that vainly endeavoured to hide the joy
of its owner.

'I shall look out, of course, first of all, for some bread-and-butter
work. I shall go to the editors of the illustrated papers and show
them some things. I shall attend some life-school in the evenings. And
the rest of the time I shall paint--paint like Old Harry!'

The words caused a momentary wrinkling of Mr. Morrison's brow.

'I should avoid those expressions, if I were you, Fenwick. But paint
what, my dear boy?--paint what?'

'Of course I have my ideas,' said Fenwick, staring at the floor.

'I think I have earned a right to hear them.'

'Certainly. I propose to combine the colour and romance of the
Pre-Raphaelites with the truth and drawing