"That's puts a stopper on Japanese prints--as a rule such a safe line! And oil paintings would cost too much. And mezzotints of beautiful women, after Reynolds and Gainsborough, also dear, might not please him."
It was then that Mr. Harford came to the rescue. "If he likes Bibury so much," he said, "it follows that he must like Old England. I'll frame up a lot of our water-colours--De Wint, Birket Foster, William Callow, Tom Collier, David Cox, Varley--and if he likes them he can keep them, and if not I'll take them back. And now I come to think of it, he wanted to buy my dog, the swine! Called him a flea-trap! I've got some engravings of spaniels and setters after Stubbs--I'll hang those in the hall."
We settled the books in the same way. A certain number were decided upon without any question, such as the "Encyclopædia Britannica," Dickens and Thackeray, and then a mixed collection was put together by Mr. St. Quentin: to be retained or returned. All were supplied by that enterprising firm "The Booklovers' Rest" on the principle, as Ben said, of keeping Mr. Corbet in the family.
The few vases and bowls that were necessary were simpler: there are so many non-committal shapes and colours now.
Mr. Harford did not confine himself to supplying the pictures and books, but himself superintended their arrangement in the house, and when I went down to Bibury for a last look round two or three days before the time limit was up, in order to have the chance of supplying any last-minute deficiencies that might occur to any of us, I found that pleasant young gentleman among the people staying at the inn. Although a second-hand book seller, he seemed to have views on everything else too, together with a knack of getting things done, while in addition he found time to throw a fly now and then over the rapid waters of the Coln.
"Mr. Harford has been very kind," Ben said. "I'm sure he's needed in London, for Mr. St. Quentin has sent him several telegrams; but he wouldn't go back so long as there was any bother here."
We went over the house together, and it was undoubtedly an achievement. Between us we had, I believe, covered the ground; Mr. Harford, with diabolical thoroughness and perhaps a touch of malice, having actually provided the library with a cuspidor.