The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1913-10-09
THE EVENING STORY
The Great Mirror.
(By Laura Adelia Kirkman.)
Professor Mitchell faced the ella


(By Laura Adelia Kirkman.)
| Professor Mitchell faced the class
| with his usual severity.
The subject for the exhibition pic
ture," he announced, lis Myself Do
! you understand? Each student is to
paint himself
| A murmur of surprise went round
| the class. Every one turned and
stared at his neighbor-eVery one but
Joan. She was looking down at her
! tightly clasped hands. Her deeply
SCARED face was flushed a painful red.
She shuddered at the thought OF
watching her features grow on the
| canves-of having the canvas barred
for all the world to see.
| We'll start at once" continued the
professor. turning to the heap OF MIR
rors on his desk. He arranged the
| glasses on wire racks.
| I'VE have two weeks to do TINS In,
he went on, when the easels were in
| position. Then, seeing that Joan was
still at the back of the room, he
stopped and scowled unpleasantly.
why haven't you come forward % he
| demanded.
| Joan felt a deeper tint of red dye
| ing her face. Without a word she
came forward. She was surprised
when the professor suddenly stepped
to her side and helped her to ADJUST
her easel.
| The others, too, were surprised. A
rustic of amusement passed over
them Never before had the great
man shown even the slightest signs
of amicability. Somehow, in him the
quality seemed CIRCUMSTANCES
! essary; for who had a greater right to
! tyranny than a master? They ac-
cepted his habitual irritation a
matter of course, secretly suspecting
| that he had been disappointed in
| love.
Joan, therefore, decided that. like
| the small bully of the street, he had
mistaken her inability to speak for
the silence of Indignation. SO amused
was she at the idea, that for time
the dread of watching her fire
SCARED features on the canvas left
her.
But it soon returned. She WINGED
as she sketched in her blurred con-
| torted lips. Had it not been for the
fear of being refused her diploma
and consequently of disappointing her
father, who had made so many sac
rifices to send her to the city-she
would have left the school that in
slant Her sole consolation was the
thought that she would not be COM
PEELED to attend the closing recep-
ton at which this picture was to
hang.
She experienced the same loathing
for the canvas on the following day
when she stood before it ready for
work She shrank from it, letting the
stick of charcoal drop from her fin
gers. Then swiftly she bent and
picked up the stick, her face flushed
from hair to neck Professor Mitchell
stood in the doorway watching her
Furiously she fell to work. When
the other students arrived she
stopped barely long enough to bid
them good morning. Her head sank
low as the professor drew near on
his round of criticism.
Bad" he Numbered, in his most
irritated voice.
Joan drew sigh of relief. His
tone told her that if he had noticed
her despair he had forgotten it-that
his mind was filled with greater mat
tiers than the trials of an underling.
For once his savagery seemed CRATE
full to her.
The entire outline is wrong
change it, Make the mouth wider!"
he cried
But when he next came around 1t
was still wrong; the mouth was now
too wide. She saw her mistake, but
had not time to correct it before he
was standing behind her.
Mouth too wide" he pronounced,
severely. You see it is wrong-look
in the glass;
shrinkingly Joan lifted her eyes to
the mirror. There she met his eyes
looking critically down on her fea
lures. She sprang up. She stood
moment with clenched hands.
I'm going OUT she said. Swift
ly she turned and went across the
room.
Out in the hall she flew.
N'I'H never go back-never. I /
don't want the diplomas"
When she was closeted in her own |
small workshop, the indignation |
which had been pent up for so many !
hours broke free.
It's not a fair subject" she cried |
to the bare walls. "A painter must |
idealize-and how can he do that |
when the model is himself? Even |
if he were fairly good looking, he |
couldn't make himself bea utiful, |
and 1, with no looks" She halted |
before an easel with her eyes riveted |
unseemingly on the blank, white |
canvas it held.
But soon, as she stood there her |
eyes began to see-to see wildly; /
on the bare canvas before her
flashed a picture. She stared. hest
tated a moment. Then she snatched |
up a stick of charcoal.
When, at the end of an hour, she stood |
figure of herself was outlined |
on the canvas. Surrounding her head |
were dim, shadowy faces-faces that were
to bear likeness to Raphael. Leonardo. !
Beethoven, Chopin, Milton. Shakespeare-a
host of the highest masters
THAT is l, she cried passionately. For
that is what / would bel | would be there
on the summit with the highest; / would
be numb to nothing that is useful and