Smyrna times., 1881-11-02

to carry out your design
Joe, I've found her."
"Where is she ~
Joe Dayton knocked over the cigar
stand, and stood up before Mark Hatfield
"She may be in the next room. for
aught | know. l expect her every mo-
ment, and l am sure 1 don't want 10
frighten her away"
Where did you find her?"
I'm b square. No. 12.'
"Why that is Clifton's?"
. Preciselyr;
You don't mean Isabel Clifton? She
is as ugly as squaw."
No, don't mean Bell Clifton. Joe
keep still; hear the door opening"
lie arose quickly and looked with al
most womanly vanity into the glass, giving
his long, wavy hair backward toss. and
then ran out.
Ah' Miss Clifton! You are very pune
tual. Please walk this way. This is nv
studio, where you are to spend many
tedious hours. - He held the door wide
open and she entered.
She was a tall, finely dressed girl. with
out tinSe of color in her face, save ne
curved lips, and with ripples of black hair
sweeping back in graceful bandeaux from
the queenly forehead But there was all
the artist desred-great, soulful ewes. and
an exquisite regularity and perfection of
features.
My friend and brother-artist. Mr.. Dav-
ton, Miss Clifton"
ohe turned and scrutinized him with
her clear eyes, and bowed quietly
When am to begin. my work.
Al once, if you are ready he said,
with his impatience showing itself plainly
IN the feverish flush on his cheek and the
the brilliancy in his eyes.
She went forward with that same miet
air and sat back in the arm chair which
Mr.. Dayton had arranged for her. and
patiently, without a sign of wearipess
submitted to the artists arrangement Of
the graceful folds of the curtain and the
turning of her splendid head to enabls
nm to trace its exquisite outlines.
Once, when he put his hand beneath
her chin, there came grieved expression
about the fine mouth, and. strange TO saw
Joe Dayton, who had delicatelv stepped
into the deep recess of the window. and
yet' man-fashion, was watching her al
the time, gave an ottoman furious kick
and frowned like brigand.
Then an idea struck him, and he picked
up one of Marks pencils from the floor.
and went on sketching, until the lovely
model went out with a regal sweep of her
plain black dress.
Where on earth did you find her ~
said Joe.
/ told yOu--at Clifton's."
And | suppose you are in love with
her?"
My dear boy, she has not a dime to
bless herself, or why should she come
mere? She is sort of nursery governess
to her cousins, the young Cliftons. Tm
not marrying man. If was should
make advance to some one like the fair
Isabel, who has dollars enough to hide
any little imperfection of feature she NAV
have"
HIM! | suppose you will be around
there to-night?"
Without fail"
The home of the Cliftons was quite nm.
town, and was a wonder of excellence
and taste, for Mamma Clifton, in spite of
many rumors of limited means. which
might and might not be true, managed to
keep up an astonishing display, and con-
sequently there was a crowd of pleasure
seekers ever ready to respond to even a
shadow Of an invitation. There was n
very few present ON this evening. but
Isabel, the oldest, and by enemies malic-
iously styled the prop of the falling house,
was in excellent humor, and came forward
and with good grace greeted the artist
friends without distinction, although one
numbered his wealth by the thousands
and the other by pennies. Mamma Cliff
ton was radiant. There was q big bronzed-
faced old fellow, with a heavy tread and a
voice like small thunder, who was towed
along by this good lady, like man-of-war
by wheezy putting tug-bost, aad who
looked quite as comfortable as his con-
ductress did happy
Mr.. Dayton, my brother Captain Cliff
ton; Mr.. Hatfield, Captain Clifton. These
are our promising artist friends of whom
we have spoken"
Yes" growled the old fellow, a re-
member. Are you making your fortune? p
Mr.. DaytOn's fortune is already made.
and / expect my own will be founded
when l complete the work | now have in
hand" said Mark.
"Ahw
Eyes, sir. And we have number of
your family to thank. He found his
model here" said joe"
"Here?" thundered the captain.
"Here?" cried Mrs. Clifton.
"Yes, here" went on the incurable Joe.
without glance at Marks imploring face.
" Your niece, l suppose, Mrs. Clifton.
She is Mr.. Hatfeld's model"
What, not my niece Honoria, sister?
That is strange"
But, Mrs. Clifton, with that skilfuI hand
of hers, quietly vanished the matter over,
and whispered to Joe:
Pray don't mind him. He Is a strange