the wild manner, the dancing step betrayed the in most man--banishing
altogether the furtive or jealous reserve of the North-Countryman,
which were at other times equally to be noticed. Miss Anna had often
wondered how the same man could be so shy--and so vain!

However, though elation of some sort was uppermost, he was not at
first inclined to reveal himself. He told Miss Anna as they walked up
together that he had done with Miss Bella; that old Morrison praised
the portrait, and the girl hated it; that she was a vulgar, conceited
creature, and he was thankful to have finished.

'If I were to show it at Manchester next month, you'd see what the
papers would say. But I suppose Miss Bella would sooner die than let
her father send it. Silly goose! Powdering every time--and sucking
her lips to make them red--and twisting her neck about--ugh! I've no
patience with women like that! When I get on a bit, I'll paint nobody
I don't want to paint.'

'All right--but get on first,' said Miss Anna, patting him on the arm.
'What next, John--what next?'

He hesitated. His look grew for a moment veiled and furtive. 'Oh,
there's plenty to do,' he said, evasively.

They paused on the green ledges outside the cottage.

'What--portraits?'

He nodded uncertainly.