a time and do a little re-touching on Mother Hubbard's negatives,
when I happened to glance out of the window, and saw an elderly man
stop to read my board. He stood quite a long time looking at it, and
then turned in at the gate.

I went to the door to meet him, and asked if he would like me to take
his portrait, and he replied: "Ay, if it doesn't cost too much, I
should."

I led the way into the studio and asked him to sit down, but he would
not do so until we had discussed terms. I soon satisfied him on this
point, for, of course, high charges in Windyridge would be ridiculous,
and then I inquired how he would like to be "taken."

"I shan't make much of a picter, miss," he said, "but there's them
'at'll like to look at my face, such as it is. If you can make ought
o' my head and shoulders it'll do nicely."

I looked at him as I made my preparations, and was puzzled. He was a
tall man, somewhat bent and grey, his face tanned with exposure to the
weather. It was clean shaven, and there was character in the set of
his features--the firm mouth, the square jaw, and the brown eyes. They
were dreamy eyes just now, and I wondered why, and was surprised that
he should seem so natural and free from constraint. I judged him to be
a farmer clad in his Sunday clothes, but why he should be so garbed on
a bright afternoon in mid-week I could not guess. That he was no
resident in the village was certain, for by this time I know them all;
or rather I should say that I can recognise them all--to know them is
another thing.

He gave me no trouble, except that I had some difficulty in driving the
sad look away from his eyes. It went at last, however, though only
momentarily, yet in that moment I got my negative. It was in this way.

"Cheer up!" I said, when I was ready for the exposure. "Your friends
would think me a poor photographer if I should send them home such a
sad-looking portrait."

"Ay, right enough," he agreed; "that 'ud never do. But I'm not much of
a hand at looking lively."

"I want to do you justice for my own sake as well as yours," I said.
"Now if _I_ wanted to have a pleasing expression I should just think of
the moors, radiant in gold, and the cloud-shadows playing leap-frog
over them, and that would be sufficient."

"Ay, ay, I can follow that," he said; and before the glow left his eyes
I had gained my point.

"Shall I post the proof to you?" I asked. He did not understand, and I
explained.