He seemed to do this so neatly, and was so nimble about it, that the halfpence came flying in.
“Thanks, generous public, thanks!” said the professor. “You will stimulate me to further exertions. My name will be found in the list of British Painters yet. I shall do better than this, with encouragement. I shall indeed.”
“You never can do better than that bunch of grapes,” said Henrietta. “Oh, Thomas, them grapes!”
“Not better than that, lady? I hope for the time when I shall paint anything but your own bright eyes and lips equal to life.”
“(Thomas, did you ever?) But it must take a long time, sir,” said Henrietta, blushing, “to paint equal to that.”
“I was prenticed to it, miss,” said the young man, smartly touching up the composition—“prenticed to it in the caves of Spain and Portingale, ever so long and two year over.”
There was a laugh from the crowd; and a new man who had worked himself in next me, said, “He’s a smart chap, too; ain’t he?”
“And what a eye!” exclaimed Henrietta softly.
“Ah! He need have a eye,” said the man.
“Ah! He just need,” was murmured among the crowd.