The Telegraph-courier. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1888-1946, 1891-05-14

had learned to appeal to him on many SUB
jects, from the proper packing of pictures to
the condition Of a smoky chimney. The
red-haired girl never consulted him about
anything On the other hand she accepted
his appearances without protest and watched
him always He discovered that the meals
of the establishment were irregular and
fragmentary. They depended chiefly On
tea, pickles, and biscuit, as he had suspected
from the beginning. The girls were sup
posed to market week and week about, but
they lived, with the help of charwoman,
as casually as the young ravens. Maisie
spent most of her income on models, and
the other girl revelled in apparatus as re-
fined as her work was rough. Armed with
knowledge dear bought from the docks,
Dick warned Maisie that the end of semi
starvation meant the Gripping of power
to work, which was considerably worse
than death Maisie took the warning, and
gave more thought to what she ate and
drank When his trouble returned upon
him, as it generally did in the long winter
twilights, the remembrance of that little
act of domestic authority and his coercion
with a hearth brush of the smoky drawing
room chimney stung Dick like whip lash.
He conceived that his memory would be
the extreme of his sufferings till, one Sun
day, the red-haired girl announced that she
would make study of Dicks head, and
that he would be good enough to sit still,
and-quite as an after thought-look at
Maisie. He sat, because he could not well
refuse, and for the space of half an hour he
reflected on all the people in the past whom
he had laid open for the purposes of his
IL
distinctly-that Binat who had once been
an artist and talked about degradation.
It was the merest monochrome rdughing
in of head but it presented the dumb
waiting, the longing, and above all the hope
less enslavement of the man, in the spirit Of
bitter mockery.
''TIl buy it," said Dick, promptly, Eat
your own price"
''My price is too high, but dare say you'll
be grateful if" The wet sketch f1uttered
from the girls hand and fell into the ashes
of the studio stove. When she picked it
up it was hopelessly smudged.
''Oh, it's all spelled" said Maisie. Sand
I never saw it. Was it lil6e?"
''Thank you," said Dick under his breath
to the red-haired girl And he removed
himself swiftly
''How that man hates mel" said the girl.
''And how he loves you, Maisiew
F'What nonsense! 1 know Dicks very
fond of me, but he has his work to do, and I
have mine"
Eyes, he is fond of you, and I think he
knows there is something in impressionism,
after all. Maisie, can't you see?"
'See? See what?"
Nothing; only know that if I could get
any man to look at me as that man looks at
you, I'd don't know what I'd do. But he
hates me. Oh, how he hates mel"
She was not altogether correct. Dicks
hatred was tempered with gratitude for
few moments, and then he forgot the girl
entirely. Only the sense of shame remained,
and he was nursing it across the park in the
fog. 'There'll be an explosion one of these
days" he said, Wrathfully. 'But it isn't
Maisie's fault; she's right, quite right, as
far as she knows, and l can't blame her.
This business has been going on for three
months nearly. Three months and it cost
me ten years knocking about to get at the
notion, the merest raw notion of my work.
That's true; but then I didn't have pins,
drawing pins, and palette knives stuck into
me every Sunday. Oh, my little darling, if
ever I break you, somebody will have a very
bad time Of it. No, she won't. I'd be as big
a fool about her as I am now I'll poison
that red-haired girl on my wedding day
she's unwholesome-and now I'll pass on
these present bad times to Torp."
Torpenhow had been moved to lecture
Dick more than once lately on the sin of
Ievity, and Dick had listened and replied |
not a word. In the weeks between the first |
of his discipline he had flung him |!
self sayagely into his work, resolved that |
Maisie should at least know the full stretch |
of his powers. Then he had taught Maisie |
that she must not pay the least attention to !
any work outside her own, and Maisie had |
obeyed him all too well. She took his |
but was not interested in his !
pictures.
s'Y0ur things smell Of tobacco and BLOOD" |
she said, once Cant you do anything ex'
cept soldiers!"
Il could do a head of you that would |
5tartle you" thought Dick-this was before
the red-haired had brought him under the !
he only said Il am very |
sorry" and narrowed TorpenhCw's soul
that evening with blasphemies against Art.
Later insensibly and to a large extent |
against his own will, he ceased to interest !
himself in his own work. For Maisie's |
sake, and to soothe the self-respect that, it |
seemed to him he lost each Sunday, he !
would not consciously turn bad stuff, but, |
since Maisie did not care ever for his best, |
it were better not to do anything at all save
wait and mark time between Sunday and
Sunday. Torpenhow was disguised as the
weeks went by fruitless, and then attacked
him one Sunday evening when Dick felt |
utterly exhausted after three hours biting
in Maisie's presence. There |
was Language, ana TorpenhoW withdrew to |
consult the Nilghai, who had come in to talk
Continental politics.
"Bone-idle, is he! Careless, and touched
in the temperl" said the Nilghai. 1T isn't
worth worrying over. Dick is probably |
playing the fool with woman"
Isn't that bad enough?"
mo, She may throw him out of gear and |
knock his work to pieces for awhile. She /
I