Louis was by turns drawing, enticing his refractory sitter, exhorting her to bloom, and complimenting her delicate beauty, until James, with a groan, exclaimed, 'Is silence impossible to you, Fitzjocelyn? I would go into the garden, but that I should be beset by the intolerable old skipper!'
'I beg your pardon—I thought you never heard nor heeded me.'
'I don't in general, but this requires attention; and it is past all bearing to hear how you go on to that Jelly!'
'Read aloud, then: it will answer two purposes.
'This is Divinity—Hooker,' said James, sighing wearily.
'So much the better. I read some once; I wish I had been obliged to go on.'
'You are the oddest fellow!—After all, I believe you have a craving after my profession.'
'Is that a discovery?' said Louis, washing the colour out of his brush. 'The only person I envy is a country curate—except a town one.'
'Don't talk like affectation!' growled James.
'Do you know, Jem,' said Louis, leaning back, and drawing the brush between his lips, 'I am persuaded that something will turn up to prevent it from being your profession.'