genius. There is no doubt that with them 'ere chalks and a nice smooth
stone that Raphael--I 'ave been to the National Gallery and 'ave studied
'is work, and werry fine some of it is, although I don't altogether
hold--but that's another matter. What was I a-saying of? I remember,--that
with them 'ere chalks, and a nice smooth stone, there's no reason why a
masterpiece shouldn't be done. That's right, ain't it? I ask you, as a man
of eddication, to say if that ain't right; as a representative of the
Press, I asks you to say.' Hubert nodded, and the pale-eyed man continued.
'Well, that's what the public won't see, can't see. Raphael, says I, could
'ave done a masterpiece with them 'ere chalks and a nice smooth stone. But
do yer think 'e 'd 'ave been allowed? Do yer think the perlice would 'ave
stood it? Do yer think the public would 'ave stood him doing masterpieces
on the pavement? I'd give 'im just one afternoon. Them boys would 'ave got
'im into trouble, just as they did me. Raphael would 'ave been told to wipe
them out just as I was.'

The conversation paused; and, half amused, half frightened, Hubert
considered the pale vague face, and he was struck by the scattered look of
aspiration that wandered in the pale blue eyes.

'I'll tell you,' said the man, growing more excited, and leaning further
across the table; 'I'll tell you, because I knows you for an eddicated man,
and won't blab. S'pose yer thinks, like the rest of the world, that the
chaps wot smears, for it ain't drawing, the pavement with bits of bacon, a
ship on fire, and the regulation oysters, does them out of their own
'eads?' Hubert nodded. 'I'm not surprised that you do, all the world do,
and the public chucks down its coppers to the poor hartist; but 'e aint no
hartist, no more than is them 'ere boys that did for my show.' Leaning
still further forward, he lowered his voice to a whisper. 'They learns it
all by 'art; there is schools for the teaching of it down in Whitechapel.