The Mankato free press. [volume] (Mankato, Blue Earth County, Minn.) 1879-1924, 1903-07-03


To the queen O. Faeryland.
Sir Hoggie and the Fairies.
~ ONE weeks later, on a very fog
- gy Sunday, Dick was return
~ ing across the park to his stu
dio. "This," he said, lis evil
IDENTIFY the thrashing that Torp meant
1t hurts more than l expected, but the
queen can do no wrong, and she GER
tainly has some notion of drawing
He had just finished a Sunday visit
to Maisie-always under the green eyes
of the red haired impressionist girl
whom he learned to hate at sight-and
was tingling with keen sense Of
shame. Sunday after Sunday, putting
on his best clothes. he had walked over
to the untidy house north of the park,
first to see Maisie's pictures and then
to criticise and advise upon them as he
realized that they were productions on
which advice would not be wasted.
Sunday after Sunday, and his love
grew with each visit. He had been
compelled to cram his heart back from
between his lips when it prompted him
to kiss Maisie several times and very
much indeed. Sunday after Sunday
the head above the heart had warned
him that Maisie was not yet attainable
and that it would be better to talk as
connectedly as possible upon the mys-
teries of the craft that was all and all
to her.
Therefore it was his fate to endure
weekly torture in the studio built out
over the clammy back garden of frail.
stuffy little villa where nothing was
ever in its right place and nobody ever
called-to endure and to watch Maisie
moving to and fro with the teacups.
He abhorred tea. but since it gave him
little longer time in her presence he
drank it deyoutly. and the red haired
girl sat iH an untidy heap and eyed him
without speaking. She was always
watching him.
Once, and only once. when she had
left the studio, Maisie showed him an
album that held a few poor cuttings
from provincial papers-the briefest Of
hurried notes on some of her pictures
sent to outlying exhibitions. Dick
stopped and kissed the paint smudged
thumb on the open page "Oh, my love,
my love-" he muttered, do you value
these things? Chuck 'em into the waste
paper basket
mot till get something better" said
Maisie, shutting the book.
Then Dick, moved by no respect for
his public and very deep regard for
the maiden did Deliberately r-apcse- in
order to secure more of these coveted
cuttings, that he should paint a pic
ture which Maisie should sign.
THAT'S childish" said Maisie, land
didn't think It of you.> 1t must be my
work-mine, mine, miner
go and design decorative medallons
for rich brewers houses. You are
thoroughly good at that"
Dick was sick and savage
Better things than medallions. Dick"
was the answer in tones that recalled
a gray eyed atoms fearless speech to
Mrs. Jennett. Dick would have abased
himself utterly but that the other girl
trailed in.
Next Sunday he laid at Maisie's feet
small gifts of pencils that could almost
draw of themselves and colors in whose
pefmanence he believed and he was
ostentatiously attentive to the work in
hand. 1t demanded, among other
things, an exposition of the faith that
was in him. Torpenhow's hair would
have stood on end had he heard the
fuency with which Dick preached his
own gospel Of art
A month before Dick would have
been equally astonished. but it was