Galatea snatched the hat off so rudely that the pig squeaked his sense of unmerited rebuke. The Artist drew a few rapid lines and heaved a sigh of satisfaction. He held up the sketch for Galatea’s inspection.
“Do you think it will pass?”
“Magnificent,” she said, barely glancing at it. “Thank you so much. Now, if you must go, I’ll get my hat and walk with you.”
SIT PERFECTLY STILL FOR FIVE MINUTES WHILE THE GENTLEMAN TAKES YOUR PICTURE
“Oh, will you? It is early. We can turn into that picturesque old wood-road, and you can easily get back before dusk.”
Galatea took the sketch into the house, and presently returned wearing a hat which was merely a fresher copy of the one which the Artist had replaced on Reginald’s ears.
“Shall we invite Reginald to accompany us?” he asked. “He’s been so good.”
Galatea’s indignant surprise nearly betrayed her. She managed to nod assent.
“Come, Reginald,” said the Artist, cheerily.