VANCE.—“Yes; I have brought all my tools; see, even the canvas. I wish it were larger, but it is all I have with me of that material: ‘t is already stretched; just let me arrange the light.”
WAIFE.—“If you don’t want me, gentlemen, I will take the air for half-an-hour or so. In fact, I may now feel free to look after my investment.”
SOPHY (whispering Lionel).—“You are sure the Calf has gone as well as the Norfolk Giant?”
Lionel wonderingly replied that he thought so; and Waife disappeared into his room, whence he soon emerged, having doffed his dressing-gown for a black coat, by no means threadbare, and well brushed. Hat, stick, and gloves in hand, he really seemed respectable,—more than respectable,—Gentleman Waife every inch of him; and saying, “Look your best, Sophy, and sit still, if you can,” nodded pleasantly to the three, and hobbled down the stairs. Sophy—whom Vance had just settled into a chair, with her head bent partially down (three-quarters), as the artist had released
“The loose train of her amber-dropping hair,”
and was contemplating aspect and position with a painter’s meditative eye-started up, to his great discomposure, and rushed to the window. She returned to her seat with her mind much relieved. Waife was walking in an opposite direction to that which led towards the whilolm quarters of the Norfolk Giant and the Two-headed Calf.
“Come, come,” said Vance, impatiently, “you have broken an idea in half. I beg you will not stir till I have placed you; and then, if all else of you be still, you may exercise your tongue. I give you leave to talk.”
SOPHY (penitentially).—“I am so sorry—I beg pardon. Will that do, sir?”
VANCE.—“Head a little more to the right,—so, Titania watching Bottom asleep. Will you lie on the floor, Lionel, and do Bottom?”
LIONEL (indignantly).—“Bottom! Have I an ass’s head?”