The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1884-01-10
THE ONLY PUPIL.

Miss Elizabeth Hill was still pretty
little woman, with nice hair and tidy
little figure, when her father died.
One after the other her elder sisters
had married and left home; and Lizzie
kept house for her widowed father, and
forgot the lapse Of time.
The old servants considered her a
mere child, and she was always the
Youngest at the rare family reunions.
Her father had advised, praised, and
scolded her as though she had been in
her teens to the last.
He was so old when he went quietly
to sleep for the last time that people
mad thought Elizabeth would be ''pre-
pared for her loss" but she was not,
and after the first great grief, and the
shock of leaving the old home, when
the property was divided, and the
house sold, she found that another
change had befallen her.
She was no longer Miss Lizzie, the
younges daughter still at home, but a
middle-aged spinster living in board
ing-house.
Often when she had hurried up stairs
and shut the door of her room she had
thought to herself that she could not
endure this condition of things much
longer; but, after all, she dreaded to
make change.
She was exactly in the condition to
lump at anything which offered occu-
patton and interest, when the postman
one day brought her circular, gilt
edged and rose-tinted, bearing these
words:
Mr. Buckle respectfully desires to
make known to the public the fact that
he is about to reopen his classes in
water-color painting, English school,
next Monday. Terms most reasonable.
Early application desirable, as the
number of pupils will be limited. Studio
No. -, - Street"
1t was an attractive-looking card,
and as Miss Elizabeth read it an idea
came into her mind. Why should she
not take lessons in water-color paint
ing?
She would enjoy the work. She could
afford it. 1t would pass the time. She
could perhaps sketch from nature next
summer.
: little thrill ran through her at this
thought. She got her bonnet and man
tilla, her parasol and her gloves, and,
taking the card with her, hurried to
make application for place in the
class before it was too late, for it was
now Saturday afternoon.
She found the number easily. A large
building with many rooms, and at the
very top of the house, four engravers,
q lady designer on wood, anQ Mr..
Buckles name on neat dOor-plate.
Miss Elizabeth, quite breathless by
this time, applied her knuckles to the
panels, and after a little delay and
some creaking of boots on bare floor,
the door opened, and middle-aged
gentleman. with few grey hairs in
his whiskers and a bald spot on his
head, appeared, with palette on his
thumb and brush in his hand, and
bowling politely, requested the lady to
enter.
Mr. Buckle?" Elizabeth asked with
an interrogative infection.
The gentleman bowed again.
Il received your card" said Miss
Elizabeth. Il think | should like to
join your class, if it is not full.
1T is not full as yet, madam" re-
piled Mr.. Buckle, land l should be de-
lighted to receive you as pupil.
He opened portfolio as he spoke.
MY work, he said; perhaps you'd
like to look at it.
The portfolio was full of sketches in
water-color of English scenes, cottages,
lanes, old women gathering faggots,
ladies walking in old parks.
They were not great, but they were
40
lighted.
How kind of you to take a class"
she said, beaming. ''Such an artist as
you are. ;"
Mr. Buckle bowed again. He evil
IDENTIFY preferred bowling to speaking.
I'm sure Eve seen your pictures in
the Academy" she said, ''and admired
them"
Mr.. Buckle blushed violently and
bowed again.
How modesto thought Miss Eliza
beth.
She enquired his terms. They were
very reasonable. She paid it on the
spot; received little list of necessary
paper, colors, etc., and went away.
Sunday passed slowly, despite its
three episodes of church-going, she
awaited her first lesson with such i'm
patience.
At last the hour came She climbed
the stairs again, and entered the door
of the room on which the name of
Buckle appeared. A long pine table
and six cane-bo1tomed chairs, an easel,
and some canvases and portfolios, fur
nished the room. A South American
hammock was twisted into coil, and
hung over some pegs. A blanket por-
ttere hung on rod within the door.
But there was no one there but Mr..
Buckle.
Am 1 too earlyP" Elizabeth asked,
glancing at her watch. II see 1 am
the first"
"Oh no, indeed, replied Mr. Buckle,
1T is the other pupils who are too late.
We won't wait for them"
He began his lesson at once, and
Miss Elizabeth was absorbed in her
work. An hour passed-two