He threw the pictures back into the cupboard.

'No doubt,' said Miss Anna, dryly. 'I think you _are_ a great man,
John, though you say it. But you've got to prove it.'

He laughed uncomfortably.

'I've written a good many of these things to the _Gazette_,' he said,
evading her direct attack. 'They'll put them in next week.'

'I wish you hadn't, John!' said Phoebe, anxiously. She was sitting
under the lamp with her needlework.

He turned upon her aggressively.

'And why, please?'

'Because the last article you wrote lost you a commission. Don't you
remember--that gentleman at Grasmere--what he said?'

She nodded her fair head gravely. It struck Miss Anna that she was
looking pale and depressed.

'Old fool!' said Fenwick. 'Yes, I remember. He wouldn't ask anybody
to paint his children who'd written such a violent article. As if I
wanted to paint his children! Besides, it was a mere excuse--to save
the money.'

'I don't think so,' murmured Phoebe. 'And oh, I had counted on that