Painter (who has always been ambitious of “writing himself down an R.A.”). Think they might have elected me, having exhibited and had my name down all these years! I might have——
Friend (man o’ the world). My dear fellow, I’ve always told you, you don’t go the right way to work. You see they could only elect you for your painting, for—why do you wear such thick boots?!!
BEHIND THE SCENES.
Artist. Hullo, Jakes! How’s this? I’ve been trying to do without you—I thought you said you couldn’t come this morning?
Model. So I did, sir! I was engaged to Mr. Macmough, to sit for the legs in the Dook of Hipswich’s portrait.
Artist. Well?
Model. Well, sir, whiles I were a-sitt’n, the Dook he come in quite hunexpected like; an’ when he see me, he says he’d a deal sooner sit for his legs hisself. So I come on straight here!
“ASKING FOR IT.”