e not performing pedestrians, whatever you
may think."

Browne was not aware that he was walking faster than usual, but he
slowed down on being remonstrated with. Then he commenced to whistle
softly to himself.

"Now you are whistling," said Jimmy, "which is a thing, as you are well
aware, that I detest in the street. What on earth is the matter with
you to-night? Ten minutes ago you were as glum as they make 'em;
nothing suited you. Then you went into that shop and bought that
picture, and since you came out you seem bent on making a public
exhibition of yourself."

"So I am," said Browne; and then, suddenly stopping in his walk, he
rapped with the ferrule of his umbrella on the pavement. "I am going
to give an exhibition, and a dashed good one, too. I'll take one of
the galleries, and do it in a proper style. I'll have the critics
there, and all the swells who buy; and if they don't do as I want, and
declare it to be the very finest show of the year, I'll never buy one
of their works again." Then, taking his friend's arm, he continued his
walk, saying, "What you want, Jimmy, my boy, is a proper appreciation
of art. There is nothing like it in the world, take my word for it.
Nothing! Nothing at all!"

"You've said that before," retorted his friend, "and you said it with
sufficient emphasis to amuse the whole street. If you're going to give
me an exposition of art in Regent Street on a foggy afternoon in March,
I tell you flatly I'm going home. I am not a millionaire, and my
character won't stand the strain. What's the matter with you, Browne?
You're as jolly as a sandboy now, and, for the life of me, I don't see
how a chap can be happy in a fog like this and still retain his reason."

"Fog, my boy," continued Browne, still displaying the greatest good
humour. "I give you my word, there's nothing like a fog in the world.
I adore it! I revel in it! Talk about your south of France and
sunshine--what is it to London and a fog? A fog did me a very good
turn once, and now I'm hanged if another isn't going to do it again.
You're a dear little chap, Jimmy, and I wouldn't wish for a better
companion. But there's no use shutting your eyes to one fact, and that
is you're not sympathetic. You want educating, and when I've a week or
two to spare I'll do it. Now I'm going to leave you to think out what
I've said. I've just remembered a most important engagement. Let me
find a decent hansom and I'll be off