The Roanoke times. [volume] (Roanoke, Va.) 1890-1895, 1892-12-03

NO rNioh oceHleu nuIlK Ill some rurcr me-
dunn than common mir The yellow cactus
blossoms were like flakes of flame A scar
let flower fairly burned into the sight.
Grace developed II new enthusiasm every
day and piled her palette with cobalt and
chrome. Even Fleming, who had preceded
them, smoked trifle fnster than usual and
grunted out now and then: Put in your
color pure. Make her jump"
So they painted from morning till night,
keeping two or three studies under way ut
once-putting in blues where Woodson saw
greens, and puppies where he saw nothing
but nondescript sand and doing all the in
applicable things that should be done nc
cording to the gospel of the luminists.
Woodson sat by and chatfed He couldn't
paint. He wouldn't smoke. He parried
Grace's occasional inQuiring Chances by ex-
planning that he was negotiating to go into
the cattle buSneSS-a man was going to
bring him II herd OH trial
Meanwhile he nrrayed his shapely figure
in cowboyish top boots, blue shirt and
SLOUGH hat, which became him immensely,
and made sinister impression among the
blazers and tennis suits of summering
Manitou. Grace was absorbed and salts
fled. One day an idea struck him. Grace"
said he, Il found u little bit down here the
other day that Id like to have you sketch
to send home, you know. You'll do it,
won't your"
"Why, of course. I'll speak to Mr.. Elem
ing"
"Oh, hang Mr.. Fleming" Woodson broke
in. "Fleming's all right in his way, but
want you-your sketch, you know
The place was quite distance away,
over the mesa. They set out for it the
next day.
Here it is" Woodson exclaimed, after
quite tramp, pointing over the burning
plain to where row of cottonwoods were
vibrant air. "There, do that; call it "A
Hundred in the Shade, or something like
that"
ut doesn't seem to compose very WE'LL"
Grace murmured, holding the tips of her
fingers together and inclosing the picture
in rosy frame through which she gazed,
half shutting her eyes in truly artistic in
tentness.
well, never mind that; get the charac-
ter of it. You know Fleming says the
characters the thing. That's what I want
the characteristic true character of this
beastly country"
So Grace donned her big blue apron and
set to work with her biggest brushes. But
somehow she had trouble. The quality of
that sky, burning with light and yet deep
i'll hue did not seem to reside i'm cobalt,
however fresh from the tube. The value
of the stretch of plain, trcmulous under
the flaring heavens, disturbed her, too, and
when she came to put in the airy wall of
cottonwoods along the horizon the whole
thing ended in a PANTY muddle.
oh, can't do anything todayr' Grace
exclaimed petulantly, wiping her troubled
brow with the back of her hand and leav-
ing Il streak of blue along her forehead that
N ON ip1 hnr ulal
why don't you put those trees in
green!" Woodson asked with serious con-
Germ rs Grace renewed her struggle with
the regulation blues and puppies.
But don't see them SOL she mirmured
in moment of absorbed effort
Grace" he blurted out almost before
he knew it, II don't believe you see any
thing. Excuse me, but don't believe you
ever did. / don't believe in your art;
don't believe i'll your career; don't believe
in your independence! You're simply spoil
ing the incest girl in the world with it.
You see things blue and purple because he
does; and newell, lie sees things that
way because some fellows over in Paris do,
and don't believe in it. There, now, I've
said it; come"
But 1t was not arranged that he should
finish what he had to say. He had looked
down to the ground where he sat as he
spoke of Fleming. When he looked up
Grace was several feet away from him,
hurrying down tho hill, with her head
bowed.
Pm brute-a miserable brute" Wood
son remarked to himself with considerable
force as he watched her striding toward
the half dry creek. but some one ought
to have told her. Her art is all foolish
ness. Look at Fleming, even. He's forty,
and I'd like to know where he'd be if it
wasn't for his teaching. But I'm a brute,
just the samoa heartless brute!
There was plum thicket along the
creek, and after watching Grace disappear
within it Woodson set about picking up
her sketching kit. This done, it occurred
to him that it would be n proper penancc
on his part to wash her brushes-he had
always hated dirty brushes so. Gather
ing them up he started toward the creek
When he got there he could see no sign of
Grace. Could it be that anything had
happened to her? The thought made him
catch his breath for Il moment. He knew
she was mpulsive-capable of any rash
move in Il moment of excitement. Then
he heard stirring in the plum thicket
and came face to face upon her in a little
opening, crying softly to herself
Grace" he called, why, what's the
matter? l know Pm brute, but didn't
think you'd take it 500
"Oh, can't you help mc?" she pleaded
and began cropping about and feeling aim
lcssly with her hands
He SAW that her hair was looscned and
that her wrists and face were scratched
and bleeding in a dozen places.
why, what is the matters" he quered
again as she came cropping toward him and
stumbled against him.
Cant you help me at ALP"
"Of course / can, small girl; you're all
right. Nothing shall touch YOU" he re-
iterated as his arms closed around her.
"Oh, silly, can't you see I've lost my
frlnS 2tI no nX1.lairrnnd