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His presence was like a ray of sunlight to Marcus Wilkeson's
beclouded mind; and when Wesley Tiffles hooked an arm in his (as he did
to everybody on the second day of their acquaintance), Marcus felt his
perplexities passing away from him, like electricity on a
conducting rod.
Wesley Tiffles and his single diamond (the latter from the background of
a third day's shirt) shone on him together; and Marcus laughed
merrily in reply:
"I don't look sad now," said he. "I'm glad to see you, Tiffles. What are
you driving at _now_, eh?"
This question was continually poked at Tiffles. He changed his business
so often.
"At the panorama of Africa, to be sure," said Tiffles. "It is a great
idea, and I am constant to it, although several capital schemes have
occurred to me since I first thought of it. But Africa deserves, and
shall have the precedence."
"Oh! yes--I remember. And how far have you got along with this great
work?"
"It's almost finished, thank you. Patching is the artist. You know
Patching, of course--one of the most promising painters of the modern
school.


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