“I should never have sat to him,” said Anne, “if I had known that he ought to have been painting your portrait,” but Mr. Sotheby was saying that he had to be off on business.
“Very, very kind of you to come on Rachel’s birthday,” he said as he left the room.
“No, indeed, there is hardly any resemblance at all,” said Mrs. Sotheby. “Anyone might think it was one of the Puttys come home again.”
“Who are the Puttys?” asked Anne.
“What, you don’t mean to say that you have never heard of the Puttys!” exclaimed Rachel and her mother together, and Richard, who had been looking glum since he had shown his picture, added: “Yes, you ought to hear that story, since you are the only other person that has turned the ploughmen away.”
“How can you say such a thing, Richard!” said Mrs. Sotheby. “You know how that came about by mistake,” but Anne asked:
“Did the Puttys have their doorstep ploughed up?”
“No, not the Puttys,” was the answer, and as Anne seemed mystified but eager to hear more Richard said: “Come, mother, tell Miss Dunnock the whole story from the beginning.” And Rachel also added her request for the story.
“Well, wait a moment till I have cleared away the tea-things,” said Mrs. Sotheby, work that was soon done with both Rachel and Anne helping. While they were out of the room Richard seized the opportunity to take his canvas off the mantelpiece. He hid it in the woodshed and came back feeling happier.
The chairs were drawn up round the fire, Rachel sitting at Anne’s knee and holding her hand, and Mrs. Sotheby began: