"Certainly not. Don't you like artists?"

"Faither don't. He'm a fisherman an' caan't abear many things as happens in
the world. An' not artists. Genlemen have arsked him to let 'em take my
picksher, 'cause they've painted a good few maidens to Newlyn; an' some of
'em wanted to paint faither as well; but he up an' sez 'No!' short.
Paintin's vanity 'cordin' to faither, same as they flags an' cannels an'
moosic to Newlyn church is vanity. Most purty things is vanity, faither
reckons."

"I'm sure he's a wise man. And I think he's right, especially about the
candles and flags in church. And now I must go on my walk. Let me see,
shall I bring you the little picture of Joe's ship here? I often walk out
this way."

He assumed she would take the picture, and now she feared to object.
Moreover, such a sketch would be precious in her eyes.

"Maybe 'tis troublin' of 'e, sir?"

"I've promised you. I always keep my word. I shall be here to-morrow about
mid-afternoon, because it is lonely and quiet and beautiful. I'm going to
try and paint the gorse, all blazing so brightly against the sky."

"Them prickly fuzz-bushes?"

"Yes; because they are very beautiful."

"But they'm everywheres. You might so well paint the bannel [Footnote:
_Bannel_--Broom.] or the yether on the moors, mightn't 'e?"