comer, did
chance to say to her companion:

"How ill that old man looks!"

"Oh, he always looks like that," was the answer. "You will soon get
accustomed to him. Come along! I must finish my 'Blind Beggar' this
afternoon."

In a few minutes most of the workers were busy again, although there
were some who continued to chat quietly, and several young men who
seemed reluctant to leave their girl friends, and who were by no means
encouraged to go! One young man came to claim his book and pipe, which
he had left in the charge of a bright-eyed girl, who was copying Sir
Joshua's "Angels." She gave him his treasures, and received in exchange
a dark-red rose, which she fastened in her belt; and then he returned
to his portrait of Mrs. Siddons. But there was something in his
disconsolate manner which made one suspect that he thought less of Mrs.
Siddons's beauty than of the beauty of the girl who was wearing the
dark-red rose! The strangers, strolling through the rooms, stopped now
and again to peer curiously at the students' work. They were stared at
indignantly by the students themselves, but they made no attempt to
move away, and even ventured sometimes to pass criticisms of no tender
character on some of the copies. The fierce-looking man who was copying
"The Horse Fair" deliberately put down his brushes, folded his arms,
and waited defiantly until they had gone by; but others, wiser in their
generation, went on painting calmly. Several workers were painting the
new Raphael; one of them was a white-haired old gentlewoman, whose hand
was trembling, and yet skilful still. More than once she turned to give
a few hints to the young girl near her, who looked in some distress
and doubt. Just the needful help was given, and then the girl plied
her brush merrily, smiling the while with pleasure and gratitude. There
seemed to be a genial, kindly influence at work, a certain homeliness
too, which must needs assert itself where many are gathered together,
working side by side. All made a harmony; the wonderful pictures,
collected from many lands and many centuries, each with its meaning and
its message from the past; the ever-present memories of the painters
themselves, who had worked and striven and conquered; and the living
human beings, each with his wealth of earnest endeavour and hope.

Meanwhile the old man read on uninterruptedly until two hands were put
over his book and a gentle voice said:

"Mr. Lindall, you have had no