The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1910-05-11
THE EVENING STORY
At the Lodge Gate.
(By Dorothy Douglas.)

Barbara Toray had not the Slight
est intention of renting the lodge
which marked the entrance to her
Long Island estate. Yet, when Robert
McWade stood before her. Indifferent
ly seeking to rent it as studio. sne
found herself re1enting. He told her
that he desired to sketch some of the
surrounding landscape and the small
unoccupied lodge, nesting so privately
among the trees, had caught his eye.
Barbara, knowing that the artistic tenn
permanent Graves a beautiful setting,
had not the heart to suggest that he
content himself with one of the tene-
ment cottages to be found in the viii
lage. The shed-like proportions OF
those dwellings would certainly 1rr1-
tate sensitive nature.
So it Mapped that McWade and all
his painting paraphernalia were in
stalled in the lodge at Toray manor.
AS Barbara became slightly acquaint-
ed with her tenant. she realized that
the possibilities of the small edifice he
was occupying had been sadly over
looked and she took it upon herself to
make amends. She had a high bank
of shubbery placed so as to screen
the veranda and make the English
garden even more private. A wonder
full old wistaria vine was taken from
it's ancient roofing just outside her own
window, and made to shade an unvined
summerhouse in the lodge garden.
Barbar felt that the fragrant. PEN
dulous blooms would delight the
artists eyes.
McWade asked permission to fresco
the walls of the living-room which
he used it as studio. and Barbara not
only granted his request but had the
sand-plaster walls tinted to harmonic.
In the course of her visits to the lodge
she learned that the artist lived quite
alone and prepared all his own meals
in the miniature kitchen. Despite all
this and his seemingly poverty he was
apparently contented with life.
Not so with Barbara. She had be-
come restless and bored with the con-
slant v'hirl of social dinners. dances
and the small talk attendant upon
those affairs. She wished now that
she had gone over to London with
her father and mother. The Royal
academy would soon open its doors
those wonderful old gates on Pic
cadilly would be swung open and all
London and its guests would roll un-
der the portals to see what new artists
had been beckoned to take their places
in the world of fame.
Even Peggy Arnett. Barbara's very
dearest chum, was over there. AL
together, Barbara felt very discon-
tented. Added to this. she had come
home late the night before with one
Of her numerous admirers and as they
passed the lodge gate she had heard
a woman'S voice singing.
McWade had been having one of his
Bohemian SupperS and a well modu-
lated sense of enjoyment had issued
from the lodge-studio. Barbara had
dismissed her escort with petulant
good night and cried herself to sleep.
The next day she felt strangely apart
from the things she wanted. She won
dered vaguely who the girl was who
had been singing for Robert McWade,
and whether or not she was pretty,
and whether or not he loved her.
She gazed ont over the sloping lawn
and down to the lodge. McWade was
starting out for some sketching. She
watched his big, slow-moving body
swing across the field, his dog bark
ing for sheer joy of living. at his side.
Baraba surmised that the artist was
whistling, though she could not hear
him She wondered again why he had
never asked to paint her. She knew
she was beautiful; society artists and
the newspapers had told her so. Even
an unflattering mirror revealed to her
mass of lovely auburn hair and deep,
shaded gray eyes. But-in spite of
this and the fact that she had no less
than three proposals the previous week.
she felt very much unloved.
She recognized keenly her utter lack
of really congenial companions; she
knew that with all her money, her ser
wants and, her hundreds of acquaint-
ances she had never tasted the ex-
quisite joy of living which, for in
stance, Robert McWade knew. This
man who cooked his own meals on
| primitive gas stove and whose friends
accepted that fare with a deep-rooted
| enjoyment was happier than she. Be
| fore Barbara knew the artist she had
been conscious of a pity for those
strugglers who seemed to be living on
nothing at all; now she realized that
| they were compensated. They had
everything worth while-she. had
nothing but money.
While she fretted over her small
PHILOSOPHERS her portly, much-liveried
| butler brought her the morning mail.
Barbara's eyes lighted up. 1t was for
eign mail-letters from her own moth
er and one from Peggy Arnott were
among them.
AS she read her chum's letter Bar
bara sat up suddenly. various emo
lions struggling in her animated face.
| She went back over the passage in
Peggy's letter: Barbara, darling.
could you think of anything more
startling than to be walking about the
Royal academy and there. on the most
prominent wall to see portrait of Mr..
mother? It is so splendid a piece of
work that they almost speak to you.
The artist is Robert McWade, and it
looks as If he occupied a high place
among the A. R. AS.
Barbara did not wait to read further.
| She flew down through the lodge gate
and over across the fields to where an
| artist and a dog were enjoying the
| morning sunlight.
'sWhy didn't you tell me that you
had painted q portrait Of my mother