"Mr. Gummage," said one young lady, "you promised to put in my sky to-day."
"Mr. Gummage," said another, "I've been waiting for my distances these two weeks. How can I go any farther till you have done them for me?"
"Finish the fore-ground to-day. It is time enough for the distances: I'll put them in on Friday."
"Mr. Gummage," said another, "my river has been expecting you since last Wednesday."
"Why, you have not put in the boat yet. Do the boat to-day, and the fisherman on the shore. But look at your bridge! Every arch is of a different size—some big, and some little."
"Well, Mr. Gummage, it is your own fault—you should let me use compasses. I have a pair in my box—do, pray, let me use them."
"No, I won't. My plan is that you shall all draw entirely by the eye."
"That is the reason we make everything so crooked."
"I see nothing more crooked than yourselves," replied the polite drawing-master.
"Mr. Gummage," said another young lady, raising her eyes from a novel that she had brought with her, "I have done nothing at my piece for at least a fortnight. I have been all the time waiting for you to put in my large tree."