CHAPTER III.
THE RESOLUTION.
n artist sitting in the shade under a tree, painting a bit of rustic gate and a lane bright with many honeysuckles. Presently he is conscious of a movement behind him, and looking round, sees a sturdily built boy of some ten years of age, with an old bull-dog lying at his feet, and another standing by his side, watching him.
"Well, lad, what are you doing?"
"Nowt!" said the boy promptly.
"I mean," the artist said with a smile, "have you anything to do? if not, I will give you sixpence to sit still on that gate for a quarter of an hour. I want a figure."
The boy nodded, took his seat without a word, and remained perfectly quiet while the artist sketched him in.