"'Man alive!' said George, pointing to the picture the beggar was doing, 'a cat's spine doesn't curve that way—here, give me the chalk and let me do it.'
"Then, rubbing out the whole picture, George Morland re-drew it in his way. And it was so lifelike you could nearly hear the cat lapping up the milk.
"'My! I wish I could draw that way,' said the beggar. 'And so quick and easy you do it—like it was nothing at all.'
"'Well, it comes easy,' said George. 'Maybe there's not so much credit in it for that. But, tell me, do you make much money at this game?'
"'Awful little,' said the beggar. 'I've taken only twopence the whole day. I suppose the truth is I don't draw good enough.'
"I watched Morland's face as the beggar said this. And the expression that came into it told me I had not brought the great man here in vain.
"'Look here,' he said to the beggar. 'Would you like me to re-draw all your pictures for you? Of course, those done on the pavement you couldn't sell, but we can rub them out. And I've got some spare canvases in my satchel here. Maybe you could sell a few. I can sell pictures in London any day in the week. But I've never been a pavement artist before. It would be rather a lark to see what happens.'
"Then Morland, all busy and excited, like a schoolboy, took the beggar's chalk pictures from against the wall and, rubbing them out, did them over the way they should be done. He got so occupied with this that he didn't notice that a whole crowd of people was gathering around, watching. His work was so fine that the people were spellbound with the beauty of the cats and dogs and cows and horses that he drew. And they began asking one another in whispers who the stranger could be who was doing the pavement artist's pictures for him.
"The crowd grew bigger and bigger. And presently some one among the people who had seen Morland's pictures before recognized the work of the great artist. And then whispers went through the crowd—'It's Morland—the great Morland, himself.' And somebody went off and told a picture dealer—that is, a man who buys and sells pictures—who had a shop in the High Street, that George Morland was drawing in the market-place for a lame beggar.
"And the dealer came down. And the Mayor came down—and all the rich folk and poor folk. So, when the whole town was gathered around, the people began offering to buy these pictures, asking the beggar how much he wanted for them. The old duffer was going to sell them at sixpence apiece, but Morland whispered to him: