to Mr.
Fairlie.

"A thousand thanks. My fancy, I suppose. There are no children, thank
Heaven, in the house; but the servants (persons born without nerves)
will encourage the children from the village. Such brats--oh, dear me,
such brats! Shall I confess it, Mr. Hartright?--I sadly want a reform
in the construction of children. Nature's only idea seems to be to
make them machines for the production of incessant noise. Surely our
delightful Raffaello's conception is infinitely preferable?"

He pointed to the picture of the Madonna, the upper part of which
represented the conventional cherubs of Italian Art, celestially
provided with sitting accommodation for their chins, on balloons of
buff-coloured cloud.

"Quite a model family!" said Mr. Fairlie, leering at the cherubs. "Such
nice round faces, and such nice soft wings, and--nothing else. No
dirty little legs to run about on, and no noisy little lungs to scream
with. How immeasurably superior to the existing construction! I will
close my eyes again, if you will allow me. And you really can manage
the drawings? So glad. Is there anything else to settle? if there is,
I think I have forgotten it. Shall we ring for Louis again?"

Being, by this time, quite as anxious, on my side, as Mr. Fairlie
evidently was on his, to bring the interview to a speedy conclusion, I
thought I would try to render the summoning of the servant unnecessary,
by offering the requisite suggestion on my own responsibility.

"The only point, Mr. Fairlie, that remains to be discussed," I said,
"refers, I think, to the instruction in sketching which I am engaged to
communicate to the two young ladies."

"Ah! just so," said Mr. Fairlie. "I wish I felt strong enough to go
into that part of the arrangement--but I don't. The ladies who profit
by your kind services, Mr. Hartright, must settle, and decide, and so
on, for themselves. My niece is fond of your charming art. She knows
just enough about it to be conscious of her own sad defects. Please
take pains with her. Yes. Is there anything else? No. We quite
understand each other--don't we? I have no right to detain you any
longer from your delightful pursuit--have I? So pleasant to have
settled everything--such a sensible relief to have done business. Do
you mind ringing for Louis to carry the portfolio to your own room?"

"I will carry it there myself, Mr. Fairlie, if you will allow me."

"Will you really? Are you strong enough?