funds and holiday weather should be
exhausted.

Long before the back-ground was finished,
Audrey was wooed and won. The parents'
consent had been obtained, and she was to be
Mildmay's; for two hours a-day, by arrangement,
but for as much longer as he chose to
make the séance, in reality. By dint of sheer
good humour and imperceptible kindnesses,
the arch-Machiavel had succeeded in making
himself the idol of the little family. Audrey's
father and mother swore by their lodger, and
vaunted him loudly in neighbouring market
towns as the phoenix of single gentlemen, and
the paragon of scholars. Audrey herself
would have gone through fire and water to
do him honourable service. At any rate, she
went through the scarcely less trying ordeal
of standing daily, as long as he pleased, in a
most uncomfortable attitude. Mildmay had
long since descended from his garret, and
was allowed the inestimable privilege of
painting in the parlour where the light was
excellent.

I have since ascertained that Strong,
amongst other good offices to the family
had, by the exercise of a little sensible
diplomacy, reconciled the parents to their
daughter's marriage with a certain
wandering swain, which they had previously
opposed. Audrey's gratitude was boundless,
for she was fond of the absent one. That of
her parents was scarcely less, at finding
themselves put in a good humour with what had
previously been a sore trouble to them.
Audrey's papa, a stalwart BÅ“otian, bound up
with brickmaking interests, was accustomed
to walk round Mildmay in boots that
appeared to have been fashioned with his own
hands out of the raw material of his
profession, and, touching our friend tenderly on
the forehead, as if afraid of chipping the
shell, would say, "I wish I had all the stuff
that's in that there." This was his highest
compliment. A great many clever people
have echoed the unsophisticated wish of
Audrey's papa in much better grammar.

We all liked Audrey. She turned out
very obliging, very docile, and by no means
such a fool as some of the superficial among
us had at first deemed her. We delighted in
playing off innocent jokes upon her. The favourite
pleasantry was calling her "Calmuck."

Little Mack, who was something of an
ethnologist, had dubbed her Calmuck at
the outset, on the simple grounds that
her long piggish eyes, and flat
countenance, bore some resemblance to the
Tartar type of physiognomy. The joke was
a small one, and might have soon fallen
through, but for the amusing fact, that the
girl's friends adopted the name amongst
themselves as a jocular term of endearment,
without the slightest idea of its meaning.
Audrey's papa and mamma spoke of her as
our Calmuck, with a naïve gravity which
delighted us to hear. The joke spread to the
village, and was well received. The fact is,
alter a brief probation of contemptuous
mistrust, we had become popular. We were
noted sharp chaps, knowing ones, and the
like; and were supposed to be "up to" an
unearthly amount of knowledge in various
directions. Every saying emanating from us
was assumed to convey a subtle meaning, and
to be worthy the honours of quotation. So
the name of Calmuck stuck to Audrey as
a good thing, capable of humorous, if obscure,
interpretation; but, on the whole,
complimentary.

Calmuck's portrait was finished, and we
went to London. I believe we were
universally regretted by our honest clodhopping
acquaintances. If they regretted us half as
much as we regretted them, they must speak
of us affectionately to the present day.

The picture was finished, and sent to the
next year's exhibition. It at once established
Mildmay Strong's reputation. It was
purchased by one of the most discerning art-
patrons of the day and was praised
by the best critics. At the end of the
exhibition, Mildmay found himself inundated with
commissions, and a rich man in no distant
perspective.

Mildmay was unchanged in manners and
habits. We, his true believers, were in the
seventh heaven of ecstacy and exultation.

When the purchaser sent for his picture
he was informed that Mr. Strong wanted it
for a few days to make some slight alterations.
Mildmay, in fact, was dissatisfied with
the figure of Audrey, and determined to
repaint it.

"Don't be a fool, Strong," I advised,
"You'll make a mess of it, and lose the
splendid chance that's open to you."

"You shut your mouth, Charley," said
Little Mack, in his usual polite manner, and
making a perfect cockatoo of himself with
his irritable hair. "Paint a picture like it
yourself, and then talk! If Mild says the
Audrey's bad, it must be bad. You let him
go down to Grayling and paint Calmuck
over again."

Going down to Grayling was out of the
question. Mild's time was now valuable. He sent
for Calmuck; proposing to pay her travelling
expenses, and a handsome scale of salary
while he should require her services; offering
her, moreover, honourable asylum and
protection with the family of his excellent
landlady.

Calmuck arrived with a goodly number of
bandboxes. We were all glad to see her,
and she seemed glad to see us. She was
more subdued in her manner and less
awkward than formerly. Mack said that
Calmuck was going to turn out handsome,
and what a dreadful sell that would be!

Calmuck—who was scrupulously honest
and had no idea of earning her money too
easily—was for beginning to sit
immediately on her arrival. Strong told her there