"You have heard that my picture has been taken?" she said.
"No, really? Hearty congratulations. Rawlings must come up. He remembers the crimson rambler, and said only the other day, 'Miss Jean's fortin' be long in comin'. Well, her tooked her way agen the master an' me, and her be bound to suffer!'"
"Do you think they will sky it? Or stuff it, in some dark corner? I'm so anxious, that I long to go and beard the whole lot of them in their den. Who hangs the pictures, Charlie?"
"I'm hanged, if I know! What a rum affair this is of the Colonel's! It has all been done so rapidly that I can hardly believe it. What brought him to the scratch? Why on earth, do two old parties of that age want to spoon? I thought she was too sensible a woman for that sort of thing!"
Jean's eyes flashed.
"She is too sensible for you to discuss at all. I daresay, you can't understand it. They are both of them above and beyond you altogether, and I'll ask you not to mention their names before me, unless you do it respectfully!"
Jean's flashes of temper always amused Charlie Oxton. His eyes twinkled.
"You're awfully handsome when you're roused. I haven't the bump of veneration. Was born without it, they tell me. But I don't want to talk about them. It was quite 'promiskus'! How are your country friends? Awfully good sort they are!"
"I heard from Chris this morning," said Jean, relapsing into calm again.
"And that dreary old brown room you were painting. Is it finished? Has that been offered to the Academy? No? That's a pity. They'll lose something. Are you doing any portraits now? Because I think I could get you some commissions."