old the Broom-Squire that he intended making some
paintings of the Punch-Bowl, and that he had a mind to draw Kink's
farm.

In that case, said Bideabout, a percentage of the money such a
picture fetched would be due to him. He didn't see that anyone had
a right to take a portrait of his house and not pay him for it. If
Iver were content to draw his house, he must, on no account, include
that of the Rocliffes, for there was a mortgage on that, and there
might be trouble with the lawyers.

Mrs. Verstage proposed to Bideabout that she should go with him
to his sister's house, and he consented.

"Look here, Matabel," said he, "there is Mister Iver thinks he can
make a pictur' of the spring, if you'll get a pitcher and stand
by it. I dare say if it sells, he'll not forget us."

"I wish I could take Mehetabel and her pitcher off your hands, and
not merely the portrait of both," laughed Iver, to cover the
confusion of the girl, who reddened with annoyance at the grasping
meanness of Jonas.

When Iver was alone with her, as they were on their way to the
spring, he said, "Come, this will not do at all. For the first time
we are free to chat together, as in the old times when we were
inseparable friends. Why are you shy now, Matabel?"

"You must be glad to be home again with the dear father and
mother," she said.

"Yes, but I miss you; and I had so reckoned on finding you there."

"You will remain at the Ship now," urged she.

"I don't know that. I have my profession. I have leisure during
part of the summer and fall, making studies for pictures--but I
take pupils; they pay."

"You must consider the old folk."

"I do. I will visit them occasionally. But art is a mistress, and
an imperious one. When one is married one is no longer independent."

"You are married?" asked Mehetabel, with a flush in her cheeks.

"Yes, to my art."

"Oh! to paints and brushes! Tell me true, Iver! Has no girl won
your heart whilst you have been from home?"

"I have found many to admire, but my heart is free. I have had no
time to think of girls' faces--save as studies. Art is a mistress
as jealous as she is exacting."

Mehetabel drew a long breath. There went up a flash of light in
her mind, for which she did not attempt to account. "You are
free--that is famous, and can take Polly Colpus."

Then she laughed, and Iver laughed.

They laughed long and merrily together.

"This is too much," exclaimed Iver. "At home father is at me