My picture is easily the best, regarded purely as a work of art. Mrs. Stiggins's brother was in the cottage when I called about a collar that was missing from last week's wash. He lives opposite to Mrs. Stiggins. He asked me if this might be one of the houses hereabouts. I believe him to be a trout-poacher, and I am sure that that was my collar which I saw round his neck.
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Since I gave the picture to Mrs. Stiggins nobody has looked over my shoulder while I have been working. I expect they think that it would look like hinting.
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When I come in from painting luncheon has been ready for some minutes. Any other woman would complain, but my wife does not. She is too anxious to see my picture. She has a very keen eye for the virtues of my work, and I never go wholly lacking a word of praise. It is comforting, as I wrestle, sometimes rather hopelessly, with the problems which I set myself, to know that the result is sure of a kind reception. The interest she takes in them doubles the joy of my labours. I am very like a child making mud pies and
