"A paint-pot, indeed! Let me tell you, sir--but you are only chaffing me, Mr. Fildew--only trying to set my Welsh blood boiling that you may have a quiet laugh at me in your sleeve. But, joking apart, sir, you ought really to have a look at Clem's picture. It's there on the other easel. Shall I lift the cover for you?"
"Not to-day, thank you, Macer. I'm not i' the vein. How is it possible for a man to have any proper appreciation of the fine arts who hasn't a sou in the world to bless himself with?"
"If I might venture to offer, Mr. Fildew--" said Macer, doubtfully. He knew something of his visitor's queer moods and sudden spurts of temper, and shook in his shoes as he made the offer.
"Just what I was coming to. You're a good fellow, Macer," responded Mr. Fildew, with much affability. Tony felt immensely relieved. "The truth is, I just looked in to see whether Clem had a spare half-sovereign about him; I've run rather short, as most of us do at odd times."
"If you are in a hurry, Mr. Fildew, and you will allow me--" said Macer, as he opened his purse.
"Thanks. Yes, I am in a hurry, and you can settle with Clem, you know;" and so the half-sovereign was quietly transferred to Mr. Fildew's pocket.
"Any message for Clem, Mr. Fildew?"
"No, I think not, Macer. You may just tell him that his mother seems a little more cheerful and in less pain yesterday and to-day. But, really, I don't wish you to burden your memory with such a trifle."
"It won't seem a trifle to Clem. I could not tell him anything that would please him better."
"Hum! Not even the news that the Academy had accepted his picture?" asked Mr. Fildew, dryly.