"Taking sun-pictures, my good sir, and you have spoilt one for me."

"Sun-picturs, saith a?" in a very incredulous tone.

"Daguerreotypes of the place, for Lord Scoutbush."

"Oh!--if it's his lordship's wish, of course! Only things is very well
as they are, and needs no mending, thank God. Only, ax pardon, sir. You
see, we don't generally allow no interfering on our pier without lave,
sir; the pier being ourn, we pays for the repairing. So, if his lordship
intends making of alterations, he'd better to have spoken to us first."

"Alterations?" said Claude, laughing; "the place is far too pretty to
need any improvement."

"Glad you think so, sir! But whatever be you arter here?"

"Taking views! I'm a painter, an artist! I'll take your portrait, if you
like!" said Claude, laughing more and more.

"Bless my heart, what vules we be! 'Tis a paainter gentleman, lads!"
roared he.

"What on earth did you take me for? A Russian spy?"

The elder shook his head; grinned solemnly; and peace was concluded.
"We'm old-fashioned folks here, you see, sir; and don't like no
new-fangled meddlecomes. You'll excuse us; you'm very welcome to do what
you like, and glad to see you here." And the old fellow made a stately
bow, and moved away.