Fisherman & farmer. [volume] (Edenton, N.C.) 1887-19??, 1891-06-05
UNCLE FLAXLEY'S HOBBY.
BY HELEN FORREST GRAVES.

BY HELEN FORREST GRAVES.
The white, vertical light of a Eel
ruary day shone down through the SIX,
light of Julian Dover's studio, its pitile:
brightness bringing out every layer c
dust on the Venetian red draperies, ever
spot and stain on the much benicke
walls.
The lay figure was doubled I'D in
most impossible attitude against a bi!
chair, covered with cotton velvet an(
cheap gilt fringe; a bunch of faded roses
in an old ''crackle" vase, hung limpl7
down, and Mr.. Dover, in a shabb,
plum-colored velvet coat, and Turkish
fez perched jaunt1ly on one side of hi
handsome head, was painting desperatel,
away, intent Oh economizing every sec
ond of the precious wint.r daylight.
ooh, the deucew he exclaimed, alb.
ruptly. "What made you jump so,
Clar1eE A man don't want the current
of his ideas disturbed just when-''
The model lifted her large, wine
brown eyes to his face, with depreca-
tory smile.
II hear Kitty Flaxley outside" said
she.
"Outside she must stay, theni" re-
marked Mr.. Dover, frowning at his pal
cite. II can't be interrupted; every
minute is a lump of gold. Waltz" he
roared, as a gentle rapping sounded on
the door. ''Clarie is posing for met"
And thea one perceived a slight,
graceful figure in coarse lilac cotton
gown, and striped handkerchief care
lessly twisted around her rich, brown
locks, leaning in an artistic attitude
against a wlndow-sash studded with
many small panes, that was supported be-
tween two standards.
Her fingers we're intertwined in her
hair; her elbows rested on the sill, where
a coarse fcwer-pot or two were ranged.
She was not Mrs. Julian Dover for the
time being; she was "The Fisherman's
Wife," destined b. good luck and the
grace of the hanging committee to figure
in the Forthcoming spring exhibition.
ooh, Julian, l am so tired" she
pleaded. "Every bone in me is cramped.
Mayn't rest?'
"You've no idea of true arts said
Julian, slowly. "You haven't posed |
lalf an hour YETI
''Tm so sorry; but"
FJump, then!" said the painter-for
he first time realizing how pale and
worn the delicate, oval face was. ~
suppose | can be putting IN the distant
ga while you gossip with your Kitty"
He caught her hand as she skipped
oast him, and kissed her-a kiss which
vas rich reward for all the cramp and
she had endured-and she ran
ut to the hall, tugging as she went to
emove the knotted red silk neckerchief
which supplied an element of warm color
o the picture.
There stood her quondam schoolmate.
litty Flaxley, with CHEEKY lips and spar
ling eyes.
"Oh, Claire, how odd you lookl' said
be.
Eyes, said Mrs. Dover, composedly.
I'm The Fisherman's Wife,. Every
one In me is separate pain, with Sit
ng so long watching for my husbands
oat." I
Both laughed; and then the artists =
lie led Miss Flaxley into the studio, :
here Julian nodded a pleasant saluta =
on to her. :
''You won't expect me to stop work .
g2" said he.
"Of course mott" said Kitty. "It's
ork that I've come to talk about. Such
9ws as I've got! The family fortunes ;
e all made. Our Uncle Flaxley came T
'me yesterday. That is, he isn't our
lcle-hes only sort of cousin; but q
ANNA naturally wants to make the re- y
tlonshlp as near as possible; so we are +
instructed to call him uncle" ~
"And who is Uncle Flaxley2" :"
''That's just it," said Kitty, laughing.
he went to the South Sea Islands, =,
irty years ago, and people took no no. "
:e at all of his exit except to say some .,
ing about good radiance to bad rub {"
sh.' He comes back, and YOU would G,
Ink him a canonized saint. Nothing "
good enough for him."
"Ohl" said Dover. "He's made Il.
,ney9" VI
''Exactly,'' nodded Kitty. "But he's ],
oldest old fsh-a little. dried-un II
rehment-faced man, who goes about -
ding fault with everything and every- -
dy' and promulgatiug the most out +.
dish theories that ever were heard of, 40
e first thing he did was to upset all
family traditions. You know, Claire. g.
" mamma has brought US up-like the w.
es OF the field, that toll not, neither W. ~
they spin9 Now, we are each of us =,
learn a trade. I'm going into dress 'A
king!"
tTrnoo,o;l1,, W.