It's some difference of definition." I went straight from this irritating interview, during which Myner had never discontinued painting, to the studio of my old master.

Only one card remained for me to play, and I was now resolved to play it: I must drop the gentleman and the frock-coat, and approach art in the workman's tunic.
"Tiens, this little Dodd!" cried the master; and then, as his eye fell on my dilapidated clothing, I thought I could perceive his countenance to darken.
I made my plea in English; for I knew, if he were vain of anything, it was of his achievement of the island tongue.

"Master," said I, "will you take me in your studio again?
but this time as a workman." "I sought your fazer was immensely reech," said he.
I explained to him that I was now an orphan and penniless.
He shook his head.

"I have betterr workmen waiting at my door," said he, "far betterr workmen.
"You used to think something of my work, sir," I pleaded.
"Somesing, somesing--yes!" he cried; "enough for a son of a reech man--not enough for an orphan.

Besides, I sought you might learn to be an artist; I did not sink you might learn to be a workman." On a certain bench on the outer boulevard, not far from the tomb of Napoleon, a bench shaded at that date by a shabby tree, and commanding a view of muddy roadway and blank wall, I sat down to wrestle with my misery.