Rock Island Argus. (Rock Island, Ill.) 1893-1920, 1913-05-03

letter from you, wanting to know could
you get board down here another sum-
mer for you and your aunt. But I
didn't know you was expected today"
Il couldn't wait another moment"
laughed the girl. Aunt Phoebe is
coming tomorrow with all the trunks
and things. | came down in the noon
train, and the stage brought me to the
house, but Nancy says Mrs. Finder
has gone to her ethical culture club.
/ came on down here looking for you"
well. here be. Guess we might as
well go along up to the house, Miss
Christine" He led the way, inten-
tionally ignoring the expectant en-
bryo farmer. But Hartwell was equal
to the emergency.
Introduce me. please. Mr. Finder"
he said humbly, and Ezekiel smiled
sourly and performed the ceremony
that made the sculptor acquainted with
Christine Davidson.
Miss Christine is like daughter to
me. Mr.. Hartwell." he said meaningly
as the girl released her hand from
Hartwel's clasp and turned away.
And l am a plain farmer boy. and
I'm good" murmured Hartwell obsti-
nately.
You're a sculptor and you'll starve
to death some day." was Mr.. Flinders
cheerful representation as he depart
ed for his own side of the rail fence.
The next day he came once more to
the rail fence and watched Hartwel
laf aH hn ha
uprooted the afternoon before. ANY
time you say I'll bring Miss Christine
over to see the sculping, provided it's
all proper. l told Miss Phoebe David
son about you-that's Christine's aunt
and she said you might be worth in
vestigating," he observed, watching
Hartwell's face.
The deuce she did, calculated
Hartwell. his face growing very red.
See here, Mr.. Finder; just keep all
I these ladies away from my place.
/ Understands" He looked quite fierce.
4 well. I'll be stumpedw calculated
Ezekiel, backing off. You confound
/ ed young puppy. you, l don't believe
/ you dast show me none of your sculp-
/ ing I'll bet it's nothing but a mess
( of,mud pies!'
Would you really like to see some
/ of my work." asked Hartwell with
outward seriousness, although there
were all sorts of kinks in his blue
eyes. He enjoyed his verbal Skin
mishes with his neighbor quite as
! much as Ezekiel did. and Ezekiel was
secretly proud of the fact that a real
nv yuit m
His one lament was that he could not
boast to his fellows that he had seen
any of Hartwells work.
''Yes, I'd admire to look at it. Mebbe
could tell you if it was good enough
for the soldiers monument. I know
something about art even if | don't
belong to no hysterical culture clubs"
grinned Ezekiel delightedly as he
stumped down the path in the wake
of the young man toward the bunga-
low
In the long. low building which
Hartwell used as his workroom they
paused a moment. while the farmer
gazcd around at the several groups
swathed under canvas coverings.
Smells damp in here" he said awk-
wardly as Hartwell removed the can
vas from q large crouching lion model
ed in clay.
Lord love you, but he looks like he
would bite" exclaimed Ezekiel; then
he scanned the young man suspicious
ly. II scarcely believe you made that
there critter You don't look like you
had it in you. meaning no offense."
Hartwell smiled and removed a wet
cloth from a mass OF modelling clay.
"Seeing's believing" he said cheerfully
and moved his fingers deftly, surely,
and with lightning rapidity, picking up
and laying aside modelling tool, he
brought before EZekiers amazed vision
a startling picture in miniature.
Against a background of rongh clay
was a rail fence. Sitting on the rail
fence, one cowhide boot swinging nom
chalantly over his clasped hands. was
Ezekiel Finder himself, looking like
an amiable scarecrow as he uibbled a
blade of grass.
Ezekiel stared. open eyed, open
mouthed. chagrined almost to tears.
by gummy" he breathed heavily at
last Its me-"
'It is. Mr.. Finder" smiled Hartwell
"Why. il Little River sees that III
be the laughingstock from Upper Ford
down to Stepping Stone. | believe in
you. Mr.. Hartwell." he said earnestly.
81 don't want no more proof. You're
as consumed a good sculptor as
.wanter see, only break the thing before
anybody sees IT."
How about your daughter" asked
HartwelI. holding his hands above the
wet clay model.
'If had one Id make her marry
you Jest TO keep on good terms with
you. Mr. HartwelI Now Miss Chris
tine isn't my daughter. but I'll give you
all the chances I can to-
You're too late, Mr.. Finder" inter-
rupted Hartwell. the kinks coming
into his eyes "You see. I've been en-
gagged TO Christine Davidson for year,
and we're going to be married next
month. and we expect you TO donate
the blue glass lemonade set"