"It is not sold at all. I do not think I shall part with the painting."
"Why not?" asked Jonas, with a malevolent twinkle in his eyes and a flush on his cheek-bones.
"Because it is a good sample of my ability which I can show to such as come as customers, and also because it reminds me of an old friend."
"Then you may take my portrait," said Jonas, "and sell this. Mine will do as well, and you knowed me afore you did Matabel."
"That is true," laughed Iver, "but I am not sure that you would make so striking subject, so inspiring to the artist. Did you come all the way from the Punch-Bowl to see the painting?"
"No, I didn't," answered Jonas.
"Then had you business in the town?"
"None particular."
"Was it to give me the pleasure of seeing you and asking after old friends at Thursley?"
"Old friends," sneered Bideabout; "much the like o' you cares for them as is old. It's the young and the bloomin' as is to your fancy. And I reckon it ain't friends as you would ask about, but a friend, and that's Matabel. Well, I don't mind tellin' of yer that she's got a baby, but I s'pose you've heard that, and the child ain't over strong and healthy, such as ort to be in the Punch-Bowl, where we're all hard as nails."