"Ah! my good host, wait until I have had some half dozen sittings or so, and then look again," said McGuilp.
Our landlord then looked approvingly over our artist's portfolio, and said, "Ah, sir, it is a noble art."
Helen was delighted with her portrait, of course, and equally so with the contents of the portfolio. McGuilp complimented her upon her sitting, and Helen disappeared for the present.
At one o'clock Helen reappeared with the lunch, and those members of the club who remained at home met again over their frugal meal. They whiled away the time until the evening with politics and a rubber at whist.
At length the village clock struck the dinner hour, and all guests were present. The dinner passed off merrily, and all awaited the story anxiously. Our host and his daughter were invited to hear it, so having filled their pipes and stirred the fire, Mr. Crucible, finding himself loudly called upon, took a sip at his port and began his story.
