"I get on well, I think."
"'Tis cruel clever of 'e, Mister Jan. An' you'll paint me wi' the fuzz all around?"
"That is what I hope to do; a harmony in brown and gold."
"You'll get my likeness tu, I s'pose, same as the photograph man done it last winter to Penzance? Me an' Joe was took side by side, an' folks reckoned 'twas the moral of us, specially when the gen'leman painted Joe's hair black an' mine yeller for another shillin' cost."
"It must have been very excellent."
"Iss, 'twas for sartain."
"What did Mr. Tregenza say of it?"
"Well, faither, he'm contrary to sich things, as I tawld 'e, Mister Jan. Faither said Joe'd better by a deal keep his money in his purse; but he let me have the picksher, an' 'tis nailed up in a lil frame, what Joe made, at home in the parlor."
She stopped a moment and sighed, then spoke again.
"Faither's a wonnerful God-fearin' man, sure 'nough."