Ottumwa semi-weekly courier. [volume] (Ottumwa, Iowa) 1899-1903, 1900-11-08
point upon which am somewhat in
doubt"
CHAPTER vi.
TuE ApTJcr

he was in life. If he had not been
rich, he might perhaps have become
great artist. But, lacking the spur
of poverty, he seemed incapable of
sustained effort. Occasionally he was
seized with frenzy for labor; and,
for weeks at time he would shut
himself up in his studio, until he had
creditably accomplished some bit of
work. But the fever was soon spent,
and reaction invariably followed,
during which palette and brush were
taken up only in desultory fashion.
Thus it was that at the age of eight
and twenty, Sprague had painted
few pictures which had attracted IA
vorable attention at the annual exhi-
billions of the Academy of Design, and
which the critics had spoken of as
promising" and thus it was that
the promise was as yet unfulfilled,
I and that Sprague, though man of
undoubted talent, was not likely ever
to rank as genius in his profession.
Sturgis, with his keen insight into
human nature, fully realized the po-
tential capacities of the artist. and at
times he could not control his impa-
thence at his friends inert drifting
through life. But, with all their diff
ferences, these two men held each
other in the highest esteem, each adj
miring in the other those very quail
ties which were lacking in himself.
The artist lived in fashionable
quarter of the city, in bachelor
apartment which included large
and commodious studio fitted up ac-
cording to the latest canons of artis-
tic taste.
On this particular New Years
morning. after waking and observ-
ing, by the filtering of few bright
sunbeams through the closely drawn
blinds, that it was broad daylight, he
stretched himself with voluptuous
yawn and prepared to relapse into the
sensuous enjoyment of that semi
somnolent state which succeeds a
night of calm and refreshing sleep.
Just as he was settling himself
comfortably, however, he was startled
by knock at the bedroom door.
Most men, under the circumstances,
would have betrayed some vexation
at being thus unceremoniously dis
turbed. But there was no suspicion
of annoyance in Sprague's CHEEKY
voice, as he exclaimed:
You cannot come in yet, Mrs.
O'Meagher. 1 am asleep. and I shall
he asleep for another hour ut the
least Surely you cannot have forgot-
ten that to-day is holiday. Happy
New Year! You have time to go to
several masses before"
Get up, old lazybones; and don't
keep man waiting at your door in
this inhospitable way, when he is in
hurry" interrupted voice whose
timbre was not that of the house
keeper, Mrs. O'Meagher.
oh! is that you. Sturgis?" laughed
the artist. aren't you ashamed Of
yourself to come routing honest men
| out of bed at this unseemly hour?
Wait minute, till put on my court
costume, that may receive you with
| the honors and ceremonies due to
your rank and station"
A couple of minutes later the artist,
pituresquely attired in loose ORR
entail dressing gown and fez, opened
the door to his friend, Ralph Sturgis.
Come in, old man" he said. cordial
ly extending his hand to the reporter;
you are welcome at any hour of the
| day or night. What is it now? This is
not your digestion call, presume"
NO" replied Sturgis, II merely
dropped in to say that should be I'M
able to take our projected bicycle trip
this afternoon. shall probably be
busy with the Knickerbocker bank
case all day. By the way, if you would
like to come to the bank with me, I
shall be glad of your company. am
on my way there now"
Il should like nothing better" said
Sprague, "but / have made an ap-
pointment for this morning with a
er-er-with sitter"
what, on New Years day, you
heathen!"
Sturgis observed the artist closely,
and then added, quizzically:
Accept my congratulations, old
man.
your congratulations? inquired
Sprague, coloring slightly.
Eyes; my congratulations and my
coincidence. My congratulations on
the fact that she is young and beauti-
full, and possessed of those qualities of
| mind and heart which-and SO on and
SO forth. My coincidence because 1
fear you are hit at last"
what do you mean?" stammered
the artist, sheepishly; do you know
her? What do you know about her?"
Nothing whatever" replied Sturgis,
laughing, except what you are tell
ing me by your hesitations, your reti-
cence and your confusion"
The artist spoke after moment of
thoughtful silence.
your inductions in this case are
premature, to say the least. My sitter
is young lady, SO much is undeniably
true. And there is no doubt in my
mind as to her possession of all the
qualities You jocularly attribute to
her; but my interest in her, is only
| that of an artist In "a beantifuN opa