" "Oh, Jack!" cried his mother, falling upon his neck, and covering him with kisses. Then a bit of colour flowed into his sunken white cheeks. "Why, first," rejoined Austin, "there's Sir James Thornhill, historical painter to his Majesty, and the greatest artist of the day. The trader you spoke about: he disliked your father, didn't he? Well, he probably played your father a horrible practical joke.
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