cy seein' both on 'em here!'

'Mad our friend is, no doubt, Lady Sinfi,' said the painter, without
looking round, 'but not so mad as certain illustrious Gorgios I could
name, some of them born legislators and some of them (apparently)
born. R.A.'s.'

'Who should ha' thought of seein' 'em both here?' said Sinfi again.

'That,' said the painter, without even yet turning to look at us or
staying the movement of his brush, 'is a remark I never make in a
little dot of a world like this, Lady Sinfi, where I expect to see
everybody everywhere. But, my dear Romany chi,' he continued, now
turning slowly round, 'in passing your strictures upon the Gorgio
world, you should remember that you belong to a very limited
aristocracy, and that your remarks may probably fall upon ears of an
entirely inferior and Gorgio convolution.'

'No offence, I hope.' said Sinfi.

'Offence in calling the Gorgios mad? Not the smallest, save that you
have distinctly plagiarised from me in your classification of the
Gorgio race.'

His companion called out again. 'Just one moment! Do come and look at
the position of this tree.'

'In a second, Wilderspin, in a second,' said the other. 'An old
friend and myself are in the midst of a discussion.'

'A discussion!' said the person addressed as Wilderspin. 'And with
whom, pray?'

'With Lady Sinfi Lovell,--a discussion as to the exact value of your
own special kind of madness in relation to the tomfooleries of the
Gorgio mind in general.'

'Kekka! kekka!' said Sinfi, 'you shouldn't have said that.'

'And I was on the point of proving to her ladyship that in these
days, when Art has become genteel, and even New Grub Street
"decorates" her walls--when success means not so much painting fine
pictures as building fine houses to paint in--the greatest compliment
you can pay to a man of genius is surely to call him either a beggar
or a madman.'

The peculiarity of this 'chaff' was that it was uttered in a simple
and serious tone, in which not the faintest tinge of ironical intent
was apparent. The other artist looked across and said: 'Dear me!
Sinfi Lovell! I am pleased to see you, Sinfi. I will ask you for a
sitting to-morrow. A study of your head would be very suggestive
among the Welsh hills.'

The man who had been 'chaffing' Sinfi then rose and walked towards
his Quaker-like companion, and I had an opportunity of observing him
fully. I saw that he was a spare man, wearing a brown velvet coat and