By degrees the visitors went, and as the doctor went with them, and as the doctor's wife had not made her appearance, Charlotte Stanhope and her brother were left together.

He was sitting idly at the table, scrawling caricatures of Barchester notables, then yawning, then turning over a book or two, and evidently at a loss how to kill his time without much labour.
"You haven't done much, Bertie, about getting any orders," said his sister.
"Orders!" said he; "who on earth is there at Barchester to give one orders?
Who among the people here could possibly think it worth his while to have his head done into marble ?" "Then you mean to give up your profession," said she.
"No, I don't," said he, going on with some absurd portrait of the bishop.

"Look at that, Lotte; isn't it the little man all over, apron and all?
I'd go on with my profession at once, as you call it, if the governor would set me up with a studio in London; but as to sculpture at Barchester--I suppose half the people here don't know what a torso means." "The governor will not give you a shilling to start you in London," said Lotte.

"Indeed, he can't give you what would be sufficient, for he has not got it.

But you might start yourself very well, if you pleased." "How the deuce am I to do it ?" said he.
"To tell you the truth, Bertie, you'll never make a penny by any profession." "That's what I often think myself," said he, not in the least offended.