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Updated: June 16, 2025
"No: never never till this very moment." "The Painter-man will know," continued Mat, talking more to himself than to Mrs. Peckover. "I must go back, and chance it with the Painter-man, after all." "Painter-man?" repeated Mrs. Peckover. "Painter? Surely you don't mean Mr. Blyth?" "Yes, I do." "Why, what in the name of fortune can you be thinking of! How should Mr. Blyth know more than me?
"And," answered Conrad Lagrange, from where he stood in the big front door, "the mountains! Don't forget the mountains. The soft, steady, north light on your canvas, and a message from the mountains to your soul, through the same window, should make it a good place to work, Mr. Painter-man.
Jethro focussed a look upon the painter. "Er painter-man, be you? Paint Cynthy's picture?" "But I don't want to be painted, Uncle Jethro. I won't be painted!" "H-how much for a good picture? Er only want the best only want the best." The painter said a few things, with pardonable heat, to the effect well, never mind the effect. His remarks made no impression whatever upon Jethro.
On the morning of the Fourth, Cynthia drove to Brampton with the Painter-man, and when he perceived that she was dreaming, he ceased to worry her with his talk. He liked her dreaming, and stole many glances at her face of which she knew nothing at all.
"It 'ud 'bout kill a painter-man to put the best o' himself into his picture, an' then have some fellow like you come 'long an' pour turpentine on it jest to see the paint run; an' I think it must pretty well use God up, to figure out how to make an' colour a thing like that bird, an' then have you walk up an' shoot the little red heart out of it, jest to prove 'at you can!
"A painter-man would 'a' looked sad or said somethin', for that there paintin' is the most gosh-awful picture of what a puncher might look like after a cyclone had hit him. I took a painter-man in there once, to get a drink. He took one look at that picture, and then he says, kind of sorrowful: 'Is this the only place in town where they serve liquor? I told him it was.
"I wouldn't say that," stated the Senator carefully. "But after you bumped into me, and then stepped into the agent, and then turned around and took in my scenery, noticin' the set of my legs, I says to myself, 'painter-man or writer. It was kind of in your eye. I figured you wa'n't no painter-man when you looked at the oil paintin' over the bar.
"Then he didn't take my advice and rent it. The painter-man, I mean." "He's gone." "Where?" "I haven't an idea." "Doesn't he ever come back?" "You must not assume," said I with severity, "that you are the only devotee of high art. You may perhaps compare your devotion to that of another whom I might mention when you, too, have lost ten pounds and gained ten years " "Dominie! Has he?"
"Now I'm all ready for the Painter-Man," growled Mat behind the handkerchief, as he quietly settled himself to go to sleep.
Thus a certain painter-man, winged with canvases and easel, might have been seen to depart hurriedly from a poppy-sprinkled field, an infuriated Norman stallion in close attendance, and to fly safely over a stone wall of good height, only to turn his ankle upon an unconsidered pebble, some ten paces farther on; the nose of the stallion projected over the wall, snorting joy thereat.
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