"I did my best, Sir. I washed the canvas with soap and water, and put the polishing brush over the frame. Of course the subject ain't worth much, but for a stop-gap it isn't bad. Now is it?"
I then found that Mr. Wilkins had hidden the faulty hall paper with the picture that had been presented to me by the gentleman who had raised a claim to the throne of the Celestial Empire. Secretly pleased that I could now have an opportunity of referring to the gratitude of my client to my learned and distinguished friend, Appleblossom, Q.C., who had promised to dine with me that evening, I readily accepted the apologies of the penitent Wilkins.
"I will put it allright to-morrow, Sir," said my distressed employé. "I will get some glass, fix up your enlistment card, and have it done before I rebuild the pantry and whitewash the ceiling of the bath-room."
Satisfied with the promise I thought no more of the contretemps until after dinner, when my attention was directed to it by Appleblossom, Q.C., who had made himself vastly agreeable after the ladies had retired and left us to discuss the chestnuts and the port.
"Hullo, Briefless," he exclaimed; "where did you get that Old Boots?"
I told my story of the grateful client, and young Bands, who I fancy is thinking of reading in my chambers, regarded me (I venture to believe) with increased respect.
"Bless me, you have a treasure!" continued Appleblossom, Q.C., who seemed wrapt in admiration. "That is a genuine Old Boots. You can always tell him from Young Boots by the manipulation of his animal's ears. Look at those, Sir! Splendid! Why, who could paint a donkey like that? By Jove, Briefless, you are in luck! You ought to make a fortune out of it at Christies!"
"Why, is it very valuable?" I asked. "I am not much of an art connoisseur, and I frankly confess I know very little of Old Shoes."
"Old Boots, Sir!" cried Appleblossom, Q.C. "Why I thought all the world knew Old Boots! One of the grandest painters of the eighteenth century! He got that particular delicacy of touch which you can trace in that donkey's ears by never commencing to paint his animals until he was recovering from delirium tremens. Why, Sir, that animal is simply superb. Look at his mane, Sir! Why, it is simply marvellous!"
I did look at the donkey's ears and mane, and, with the assistance of young Bands, went into an ecstasy. The ears of the animal were certainly magnificent.