`She'd as leave think of flying.'

`Ah, I always spoilt my lot! That's why they've turned out such bad uns,' said the elderly woman.

`You'd only Clara,' he said. `And Mr Radford's in heaven. So I suppose there's only you left to be the bad un.'

`I'm not bad; I'm only soft,' she said, as she went out of the bedroom. `I'm only a fool, I am!'

Clara was very quiet at breakfast, but she had a sort of air of proprietorship over him that pleased him infinitely. Mrs Radford was evidently fond of him. He began to talk of his painting.

`What's the good,' exclaimed the mother, `of your whittling and worrying and twistin' and too-in' at that painting of yours? What good does it do you, I should like to know? You'd better be enjoyin' yourself.'

`Oh, but,' exclaimed Paul, `I made over thirty guineas last year.'

`Did you! Well, that's a consideration, but it's nothing to the time you put in.'

`And I've got four pounds owing. A man said he'd give me five pounds if I'd paint him and his missis and the dog and the cottage. And I went and put the fowls in instead of the dog, and he was waxy, so I had to knock a quid off. I was sick of it, and I didn't like the dog. I made a picture of it. What shall I do when he pays me the four pounds?'

`Nay! you know your own uses for your money,' said Mrs Radford.

`But I'm going to bust this four pounds. Should we go to the seaside for a day or two?'

`Who?'

`You and Clara and me.'

`What, on your money!' she exclaimed, half wrathful.

`Why not?'

`You wouldn't be long in breaking your neck at a hurdle race!' she said.

`So long as I get a good run for my money! Will you?'

`Nay; you may settle that atween you.'

`And you're willing?' he asked, amazed and rejoicing.

`You'll do as you like,' said Mrs Radford, `whether I'm willing or not.'