"I dunnaw."
"No more do I. I wonder how that little white pony tethered yonder would do?"
Joan laughed.
"You'd never get the likes o' him to bide still for 'e."
"No, I'm afraid not; and I doubt if I'm clever enough to paint him either. You see, I'm only a beginner—not like these clever artists who can draw anything. Well, I must think: to-morrow is Sunday. I shall begin my big picture on Monday if the weather keeps kind. I shall paint here, in the open air. And I will bring your ship, too, if you care to take the trouble to come for it."
"Yes, an' thank 'e, sir."
"Not at all. I owe you thanks. Just think if I had gone home with that horrid blackthorn."
He turned to his work as though she were no longer present and the girl prepared to depart.
"I'll bid you good-arternoon now, sir," she said timidly.
He looked up with surprise.