When I add to these
fragments of evidence that he and I have never met (luckily for
me, you will say) since I jockeyed him out of his banknote, I
have about fulfilled my implied contract as maker of a statement
with you, sir, as hearer of a statement. Observe the expression,
will you? I said it was a Statement before I began; and I say
it's a Statement now I've done. I defy you to prove it's a Story!
How are you getting on with my portrait? I like you very well,
Mr. Artist; but if you have been taking advantage of my talking
to shirk your work, as sure as you're alive I'll split upon you
to the Town Council!
I attended a great many times at my queer sitter's house before
his likeness was completed. To the last he was dissatisfied with
the progress I made. Fortunately for me, the Town Council
approved of the portrait when it was done. Mr. Boxsious, however,
objected to them as being much too easy to please. He did not
dispute the fidelity of the likeness, but he asserted that I had
not covered the canvas with half paint enough for my money. To
this day (for he is still alive), he describes me to all
inquiring friends as "The Painter-Man who jockeyed the Town
Council."
PROLOGUE TO THE THIRD STORY.
It was a sad day for me when Mr. Lanfray, of Rockleigh Place,
discovering that his youngest daughter's health required a warm
climate, removed from his English establishment to the South of
France.
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