Blyth's
father, the poor engraver, whose old-fashioned habit it was to pay
homage to all his friends among the ladies, by saluting them from afar
off with tremulous bows and gallant kissings of the hand.
"Ah!" thought Mrs. Blyth, nodding, to show that she understood the
signs--"Ah! there's father. I felt sure he would be the first; and I
know exactly what he will do when he gets in. He will admire the
pictures more than anybody, and have a better opinion to give of them
than anybody else has; but before he can mention a word of it to
Valentine, there will be dozens of people in the painting-room, and
then he will get taken suddenly nervous, and come up here to me."
While Mrs. Blyth was thinking about her father, Madonna signalized the
advent of two more visitors. First, she raised her hand sharply, and
began pulling at an imaginary whisker on her own smooth cheek--then
stood bolt upright, and folded her arms majestically over her bosom.
Mrs. Blyth immediately recognized the originals of these two pantomime
portrait-sketches. The one represented Mr. Hemlock, the small critic of
a small newspaper, who was principally remarkable for never letting his
whiskers alone for five minutes together. The other portrayed Mr.
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