Mr. Castleton, who valued artistic effect before
everything, found Constable one of his most useful models, and though the
boy was now seven and a half, he was generally dressed in a Kate
Greenaway smock and his crop of golden curls was still uncut.
"Don't touch him!" his father would protest, whenever the question of
Constable's hair arose in the family; "as he is he's worth an income to
me! He always gets into exhibitions and he generally sells. He's just
what the average British patron wants to buy. The public can't always
understand my allegorical pictures, but they know a pretty child when
they see one. He'll be spoilt for the studio if he loses his curls, and I
want to sketch him as a singing angel, and as a water-baby, and for some
of my Hans Andersen illustrations. It's too bad to ruin his artistic
value just when I've trained him to pose properly. It will be years
before Gabriel learns to sit as still--if he ever does."
The little fellow had charmingly attractive manners, and came forward
willingly to talk to visitors.
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