The Forest Republican. [volume] (Tionesta, Pa.) 1869-1952, 1878-09-04

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heard that yeu had rich patrons and had
grown proud"
"Well, Bee, I will make you another
offer. 1 want model, say, from two to
| four hours n day. You will have to
stand in very fatiguing postures, and 1
shall perhaps get cross and unreasona-
BILE, aud forget you are Beatrice Erling;
but will give you the highest terms,
and pay you every day as you earn the
money"
"What will you give meP"
Fifty cents an hour"
"That will do. When shall Gomez"
"To-morrow at ten o'clock"
The conversation had fallen into o
| purely business tone, and after these
arrangements. Lepel handed her his
card, and said q rather cool "good-
evening"" For now that the thing was
done, he was uncertain as TO it's wisdom.
In the first place, he had offered Bee un-
usually high terms; and in the second,
he had voluntarily connected himself
again with class of artists for whom he
had neither respect nor sympathy. He
knew that he had been influenced by
Bees beauty, and that if she had been
ugly or i'll formed, his remembrance of
her would not have led him to any such
active sympathy.
"It is q bad plan," said the young
man to himself, "to analyze ones good
deeds. 1 have not bit of self-com-
plaisance in what / have done for Tom
Erling's daughter ro-night, and 1 sup
pose now she will be great nuisance to
me-"
This rencontre compelled him, even
against his inclination, to recall the gay,
clever, idle fellow whom he had so long
forgotten. What an infinite genius
that man had I" he muttered; "there
was nothing he could not turn his pencil
to; and as for music, it was his native
tongue"
But, for all that, Tom Erling had
been a failure and broken promise.
He worked irregularly, he never kept
| his word, he fell into debt, borrowed
money, and by continual petty imposi-
tions sinned away his most faithful
friends. And yet the man had some ex-
cuses for he had been set to fight
battle for which nature had provided
him with no weapons. Time money
obligations Tom knew the value Of
none of these things. He ought to have
lived in some sunny italian city, and
been cared for as the ravens are.
Lepel had at first been charmed with
his easy good-humor, his song and wit,
and free-handed generosity. But men
can't afford to pay success and fame for
these pleasant things, and he had found
himself compelled to drop an acquaint-
anceship which brought him nothing
but unreasonable claims and annoy-
ances.
| Beatrice had then been a shipshod,
ill-cared-for girl of twelve years old,
perfectly familiar with all her fathers
shiftless, dishonorable ways of raising
money. Scrambling breakfasts, disor-
derly dinn6 RS, alternate fasting and
feasting, was the girls domestic story.
She had picked up knowledge of read.
ing and writing, and New York had done
| the rest for her. In some marvellous
way she had acquired lady-like and
rather reserved manners, and the knowl
edge of how to make the most of the
little clothing she was able to procure.
But even among her fathers asso-
ciates she had no friends. These genial
good fellows had nothing to spare for
themselves. They all spoke pityingly
of "poor little Bee," but not one of
them would have denied himself cigar
for her sake. When her father could no
longer protect her, she had even got to
fear him, and to feel their notice of her,
in some way or another, an insult.
But Don Lepel's offer was different
thing. She thought it over after he had
left her, recalled his looks and tones,
and felt satisfied. "You are lucky
little bench" she said, smiling, and
touching almost superstitiously the
rough wood, "and feel as if good
fortune had been making me a call"
The next evening she was rather more
doubtful of it. Lepel had been very
cool, and had made her fully earn her
fifty cents an hour. However, as the
weeks passed away, things grew pleas
anter. Bee had plenty of tact, and had
been in an excellent school for develop
ing it. She saw at once that Lepel did
not trust her, and that she would have
to win his confidence. Indeed, Lepel
was constantly expecting to find her the
daughter of her father. He feared that
she would break her word, forget her
appointments, or ask for money in
advance. AS her reserve passed away,
and she became witty and merry, or
indulged herself in snatches of song or
new step in a dance, he expected
these moral alterations more and more.
But they did not come. Bee grew
rosy-cheeked and light-hearted, began to
dress with much taste, managed her
small funds with discretion, and said,
gratefully, ''she began to see the good
of living" In fact, before the winter
was over she had got, through Lepel's
influence, a comfortable little business
as ''model," and was making with hel
six hours hard strain three dollarE q
] day.
l The June sunlight in which we fire.
saw Lepels studio is now January sun
? light. Somehow the room has bright
look; perhaps it is the basket of flowers