some round dozen of times (for he resented
patronage almost as much as he resented the want of it), and was
inclined to quarrel with his friend for bringing him the message.

'It may be a defect in my mental vision, Blandois,' said he, 'but may I
die if I see what you have to do with this.'

'Death of my life,' replied Blandois, 'nor I neither, except that I
thought I was serving my friend.'

'By putting an upstart's hire in his pocket?' said Gowan, frowning.

'Do you mean that? Tell your other friend to get his head painted for
the sign of some public-house, and to get it done by a sign-painter. Who
am I, and who is he?'

'Professore,' returned the ambassador, 'and who is Blandois?'

Without appearing at all interested in the latter question, Gowan
angrily whistled Mr Dorrit away. But, next day, he resumed the subject
by saying in his off-hand manner and with a slighting laugh, 'Well,
Blandois, when shall we go to this Maecenas of yours?

We journeymen must take jobs when we can get them. When shall we go and
look after this job?' 'When you will,' said the injured Blandois, 'as
you please. What have I to do with it? What is it to me?'

'I can tell you what it is to me,' said Gowan. 'Bread and cheese. One
must eat! So come along, my Blandois.'

Mr Dorrit received them in the presence of his daughters and of Mr
Sparkler, who happened, by some surprising accident, to be calling
there. 'How are you, Sparkler?' said Gowan carelessly. 'When you have
to live by your mother wit, old boy, I hope you may get on better than I
do.'

Mr Dorrit then mentioned his proposal. 'Sir,' said Gowan, laughing,
after receiving it gracefully enough, 'I am new to the trade, and not
expert at its mysteries. I believe I ought to look at you in various
lights, tell you you are a capital subject, and consider when I shall be
sufficiently disengaged to devote myself with the necessary enthusiasm
to the fine picture I mean to make of you. I assure you,' and he laughed
again, 'I feel quite a traitor in the camp of those dear, gifted, good,
noble fellows, my brother artists, by not doing the hocus-pocus better.
But I have not been brought up to it, and it's too late to learn it.
Now, the fact is, I am a very bad painter, but not much worse than the
generality. If you are going to throw away a hundred guineas or so, I
am as poor as a poor relation of great people usually is, and I shall be
very much obliged to you, if you'll throw them away