The things we do!

Euphemia and Flora
adore artists; they feel quite interested about this young man. "He was
scribbling caricatures all the time I was talking with his father in my
parlour," says Mr. Baines, and produces a sketch of an orange-woman near
the Bank, who had struck Clive's eyes, and been transferred to the
blotting-paper in Fog Court. "He needn't do anything," said good-natured
Mr. Baines. "I guess all the pictures he'll paint won't sell for much."
"Is he fond of music, papa?" asks Miss. "What a pity he had not come to
our last evening; and now the season is over!"
"And Mr. Newcome is going out of town. He came to me, to-day for circular
notes--says he's going through Switzerland and into Italy--lives in
Charlotte Street, Fitzroy Square. Queer place, ain't it? Put his name
down in your book, and ask him to dinner next season."
Before Clive went away, he had an apparatus of easels, sketching-stools,
umbrellas, and painting-boxes, the most elaborate and beautiful that
Messrs.


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