Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1904-06-18
On the
Trail of a
Bly,.
Copyright, 1908, Dy T. C. Mcclure

MdlIeS6 k1IlSu WHOSE uauc was LOU,
though it was usually called by any
endearing epithet which came handy.
1t ought not to have tired of the paper
ball provided for it, nor gone on a
tour of exploration into the hall, nor
then into Graham's studio. But the
last was Graham's fault, because he
had neglected to close the studio door
when he went out.
OF course, Miss Mabel Hastings had
to 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 it.
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 a little
more, and that no one would know.
She had wanted for long while to
know what Graham's studio was like,
and if it suited with him, and a num-
Der of other things.
1t is the first step that counts. From
general survey Miss Hastings de-
scended to particular examination.
She tiptoed 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 to 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 was to the
kitten she talked as she wandered
about.
"He wouldn't care at my looking at
his pictures, kitty" she confded 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. / wonder
If 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,
should say. italian Peasant Girl 1
don't think much of her. Old man with
pipe, moonlight or sunrise or some
thing. It's pretty, but l 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 1 got it hunting for you. Did
you ever see anything like this table,
Dot? l wish l dared straighten it up.
He needs some one to keep things in
order. Bachelors are so untidy, which
shows that they were never intended
by heaven to remain bachelors, for or
der is heavens first law. 1t must be
nice, though, to feel above obeying it."
She moved about the room as 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 hor-
ror.
Its just the kind of studio thought
he'd have, Dotlets. It's just like him
big, sunny and not too many books nor
too many curiOs nor cluttered up with
furniture. / don't like finicky man
nor booky man, and he isn't either. I
knew he wasn't. Is that the models
throne over there, 1 Wonderland 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. It's covered by 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
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 in a deep chair of inlaid ebony.
There were jewels cleaning 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 l cared for roses?" said Mabel
when, after the first moments of sur
prise, she settled herself in critical de-
light, chin in hand, before the picture.
And such roses-dream roses-just
opening to the June air. How did he
know-if it is me? 1 suppose it isn't
me really, but like to think it Island
indeed it looks like me, or as 1 might
look if had beautiful things and
dwelt in a fairy palace. Only, Pm
afraid, kit, that Pm not half so pretty
as that girl She hasn't any bother
ahOut making hnr yo1yrco ar har poooS