being blocked. It wasn't that the public didn't like it enough, it was that
the public liked it too much, that was the reason of my misfortune.'

'What do you mean?' said Hubert.

'Well, yer see them boys was a-hawking their cheap toys in the
neighbourhood, and when they got wind of my success they comes round to
see, and they remains on account of the crowd. Pockets was picked, I don't
say they wasn't, and the perlice turned rusty, and then a pious old gent
comes along, and 'earing the remarks of them boys, which I admit wasn't
nice, complains to the hauthorities, and I was put down! Now, what I wants
to know is why my art should be made to suffer for the beastly-mindedness
of them 'ere boys.'

Hubert admitted that there seemed to be an injustice somewhere, and asked
the artist if he had never tried again.

'Try again? Should think I did. When once a man 'as tasted of 'igh art, he
can't keep his blooming fingers out of it. It was impossible after the
success of my bathers to go back to the bacon, so I thought I would
circumvent the hauthorities. I goes to the National Gallery, makes a
sketch, 'ere it is,' and after some fumbling in his breast pocket, he
produced a greasy piece of paper, which he handed to Hubert. 'S'pose yer
know the picture?' Hubert admitted that he did not. 'Well, that is a
drawing from Gainsborough's celebrated picture of Medora a-washing of her
feet.... But the perlice wouldn't 'ave it any more than my original, 'e
said it was worse than the bathers at Margaret, and when I told the
hignorant brute wot it was, 'e said he wanted no hargument, that 'e
wouldn't 'ave it.'