Montour American. (Danville, Pa.) 1866-1920, 1904-07-07
On the
Trail Of a
Maltese a.
F. b. WRIGHT
F. b. WRIGH-
CopwIyht, 1908, bll n c. Mcclure

though il was usually called 10y any
cndearing epithet which came handy"
1t ought not TO have tired OF the paper
ball provided for it, nor gone on
tour of exploration into the hall, nor
then into Grhams studio But the
last was Graham's fault, because he
had neglected to close the studio door
when hc went out.
OF course. Miss Mabel Hastings had
10 get her pet, and, of course, as the
kitten would not come at her call, the
only way was to go into the studio
after il.
She found it after a considerable
search sitting serenely beneath the big
chair under the long studio window.
With the kitten safe In her arms she
should have gone back to her inter
rupted work. She did not, however.
She listened to the voice of the tempt
er, who told her that her opportunity
was come at last; that having seen so
much it was no harm to see Il little
more, and that no one would know.
She had wanted for n long while to
know what Graham's studio was like,
and if II suited with him. and num-
Der Of other things.
1t is the first step that counts. From
general survey Miss Hastings de
scendcd to particular examination.
She tlptocd across the room, glanced
at the books and inspected the Japa-
nese worries in cabinet on the wall.
Then, having imbrued one finger. as
it were, and nothing having happened,
there seemed 10 be no reason why she
should not dip in her whole hand Be
sides, if Graham should come, she had
the kitten for excuse. 1t Wac, to the
kitten she talked as she, wandered
about. '''+~
HE wouldn't care at my looking at
his pictures. kitty" she conffded as
she rummaged in a stack of canvases,
"and anyway if he doesn't want them
looked at why does he put them with
their faces to the wall? He ought to
know that that would make, any one
any one desire to see them. l. wonder
II they are rejected pictures and if he
hates TO see them as DO that pile of
rejected stories of mine. Perhaps that
is why he leaves them wrong side out.
Hum! Spring Scene Rather good, l
should say. Italian. Peasant Girl l
don't think much of her. old man with
pipe, moonlight or sunrise or some
thing It's pretty, but T can't. make it
out Just look at the dust behind them
too. It's all over my skirt. 1t would
be giveaway if he should come. Only
I'd say | got it hunting for you Dh
you ever see anything like this table,
Dot? l wish | dared. straighten it up.
He needs some one 10 keep things in
order. Bachelors arr'so unridy, which
shows that they were never intended
by heaven to remain bachelors, for tor
der is heavens first law Z 1t must 'bei
nice, though, to feel above obeying it,.
She moved about the room sas she
talked, studying the sketches on the
wall, testing the softness of the divan,
feeling the texture of the tapestries,
running her finger along the mantel-
shelf and looking at it with, mock hoes
ror. tss Tsg ,E..,
Its just the kind of studio thought
he'd have, Dotlets , TT" just like him.
big, sunny and, not too ndny books nor
too many. curios nor. cluttered up with.
furniture. i don't like, fnicky, man
nor booky man, and he isn't either. /
knew he wasn't. Is-that the models
throne over there, wonder-that plat
form? 1t doesn't seem TO have been
used much, and yet he's been painting
this morning, I'm going to see what it
is. discovered by a curtain, but peep
won't hurt any one,
The easel stood in the corner by "a
table Uttered with half squeezed tubes.
brushes palettes and paint rags, as If
the painter had thrown them down in
a sudden heat of evaporation over the
inadequacy of his art
Mabel drew the curtain from the pic
ture and then sat down hastily ON the
painting stool 1t was her own picture
she was looking at-her own and yet
not her own. Not the everyday, story
writing, money worried Mabel Has
tings whom her looking glass reflected,
but girl clad in some soft, exquisite
clinging eastern fabric, reclining grace
fully I'm deep chair Of inlaid ebony.
There were jewels gledming in the
meshes Of her coiled hair, and row upon
row of pearls clasped the delicately
curved throat Her hands were play
ing with the roses in her lap. Her eyes
were dreamy.
"Now, how did he know, Katinka. !
that | cared for rosesf" said Mabel
when, after the first moments of sur
Tarfc CI
light, chin In hand, before the picture.
And such roses dream roses-just
opening to the June air. How did he
know-R il is me? l suppose 1t isn't ,
: me really, but like TO think it is-and
indeed it looks like me. or as | might
look If | had beautiful things and
dwelr in fairy palace. Only, I'm
afraid, kit, that I'm not half SO pretty
as that girl. She hasn't any bother
about making her purse fit her neces-
stiles nor trying to make, stories end
nicely. ! don't think she writes Mt all.
that girl-theres no ink on her fin
gers. And yet just know It IS, and
I'm rather glad only, of course, IT'S
horribly impcrtinent in him; you can't
know how iinpertiRent.
And the pearls, Did he put them
around my mock for effect or to show
how well he could paint themY May 1
be-maybe he wanted Just to give
them to. me. 1t was very oxtravagant
OF him, kit. I'm sure he can't afford
them. and, Of course, can't. accept
them. III have to say I'm greatly
obliged, but / couldn't think -of, a&
cepting the4l -enly IA like e. (
Then, too frtrc's riotllffs~f could
give him in return-a least nothing
he'd WANT. l. stD't make him any
nicer than he is, and 50 in our stories
put him in just 'as /. see hing only
sometimes he's rich and sometimes
poor and sometimes soldier and I
sometimes I'm trtist,' Il don't know.
why he Will ipsist on getting into my
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