“Has the painting man come yet?” she inquired.
“Yes, miss, he has,” said John, with venom and with brevity.
“Do you think I might go in and peep at him?” she said in her ludicrous way. “I should so like to see a real painting man, painting a real picture with paints.”
“If you obtain her ladyship’s permission, I dare say, miss, you may do so,” said Mr. Marchbanks, cautiously.
Miss Perry, however, as is the way of her sex, when her curiosity was fully aroused, was quite capable of displaying a mind of her own.
Miss Perry entered the blue drawing-room noiselessly. There was the painting man with his hands in his pockets. He was standing with his back to her, and he was entirely lost in contemplation of the masterpiece he had been commissioned to copy.
“Marvelous!” he could be heard to exclaim at little intervals under his breath, “marvelous!”
This examination of Gainsborough’s masterpiece was terminated long before it otherwise would have been by the intervention of what can only be described as a positive crow of human delight.
“Why, it’s Jim,” said Miss Perry. “Jim Lascelles.”
Jim Lascelles turned about with a look of wonder upon his handsome countenance. At first he said not a word; and then he placed both hands upon the stalwart shoulders of Miss Perry and gave her a sound shaking of affectionate incredulity.