"What occupation has your lover?"
Ah! thought I. "Look here, you must do me the favour to bring your mother with you when you come again."
"The mother cannot leave her work."
"Then bring some one else; one of your relations, or a lodger—at all events some one. I will not have you here alone."
I had scarcely spoken these words when I heard a knock at the door. "Hark! it is your lover who knocks," I said, as a joke.
I went and opened the door, and found there a sturdy youth as red as a lobster.
"Who do you want?" I asked.
"Are you the painter?"
"No, I am not a painter."