And Bill, feeling rather awkwardly conscious of his jacket-tails, started off, to lay siege to Grip's domain.
Within the space of ten minutes he returned, carrying a chair, and followed by Elspeth, who had in view two ends—first, to insure the safety of her chair; second, to inform the gentleman that if he should be wanting lunch, she could make arrangements for his comfort in her front kitchen. Bill having intimated that the gent was rather timid of dogs, she also added that there was nothing to fear from either animal, as they were both on the chain.
Meanwhile Bill, with the eggs still in his pockets, stood at the artist's elbow, watching his preparations with a curious eye, and waiting for his copper.
"I'm going to make a picture of the church," said the artist presently. "Perhaps I may want a boy in the foreground. Would you like me to put you in?"
Bill looked up sharply, and nodded.
"That'd be two coppers, sir, wouldn't it?" said he.
"Well, yes; I suppose it would," admitted the artist carelessly. "Go and stand yonder against that tussock, and let me see how picturesque you can look."
Bill obeyed.
"Put your arms up as if you were carrying something," the artist called to him. Then after a minute or so, beckoning him back. "I shan't want you for an hour or two," said he. "No doubt you could bring a basket or a bundle. Or stay! You haven't got a goat or a donkey—or a little brother?"
Bill hadn't; but he thought it might be possible to borrow one.