"Exactly, sir; I see--I see now, though you put it in a way that never
struck me before."

"And yet," said Kenelm, looking benignly at the speaker, "you seem to
me a well-educated and intelligent man; reflective on things in
general, without being unmindful of your interests in particular,
especially when you have lodgings to let. Do not be offended. That
sort of man is not perhaps born to be a painter, but I respect him
highly. The world, sir, requires the vast majority of its inhabitants
to live in it,--to live by it. 'Each for himself, and God for us
all.' The greatest happiness of the greatest number is best secured
by a prudent consideration for Number One."

Somewhat to Kenelm's surprise (allowing that he had now learned enough
of life to be occasionally surprised) the elderly man here made a dead
halt, stretched out his hand cordially, and cried, "Hear, hear! I see
that, like me, you are a decided democrat."

"Democrat! Pray, may I ask, not why you are one,--that would be a
liberty, and democrats resent any liberty taken with themselves; but
why you suppose I am?"

"You spoke of the greatest happiness of the greatest number. That is
a democratic sentiment surely! Besides, did not you say, sir, that
painters,--painters, sir, painters, even if they were the sons of
shoeblacks, were the true gentlemen,--the true noblemen?"

"I did not say that exactly, to the disparagement of other gentlemen
and nobles. But if I did, what then?"