“No, no—nothing of the kind,” said the artist quickly—but not in the least daunted by the washer-woman’s unamiable greeting—“I was struck with her appearance—and now that I have at last an opportunity of accomplishing an object I have long contemplated, I trust you will not object.”
“Lord, sir, what is it ye want—speak it out quick can’t ye—my work is waiting for me, don’t ye see? Do you want the child’s front teeth, or her hair? I’ve sold her hair twice to a barber, but her teeth—”
“You mistake me,” exclaimed Martin Gray, sharply, for he was disgusted with the cruel words of the old beldam. “I am an artist—I would like to take her likeness—will you permit me to do so?”
“No! what would you do with it? The girl’s about spoiled now with people’s telling her how beautiful she is. To be sure the child is well enough”—this with a sort of brutish pride—“in looks, but beauty don’t give us bread, and her good looks only spiles her—she’s getting proud and hateful since people have told her so much about it, the little fool!”
“If that is so, I fear it is not the wisest course to let her play so much in the street with other little folks,” said Martin.
This approach to advice aroused the woman’s ire. “Where’s she to be kept, I’d like to know that? A poor woman like me as arns her bread by the sweat of her face has little time to be looking about after the young ones. People like me can’t keep their children to home like other folks, who have plenty of room indoor and out. So you see, young man, your advice aint worth much any how.”
“Of course, madam, you know your own business best; but, seriously, you cannot mean to refuse my earnest request. I assure you it will be the greatest favor to me if you will suffer me to take the child’s picture. I am willing to pay you for the privilege.”
“Then it shall be done,” said the woman, brightening up. “How much will you offer?”
“Two dollars,” answered the young man, “and I will pay you more at some future day—but I also am poor.”
Poor fellow, he spoke the truth indeed, for the two dollars were just half the contents of his old faded purse at that moment.