The Yale expositor. (Yale, St. Clair County, Mich.) 1894-current, 1914-05-07
CHAPTER v.
Discussing a Sister-in-Law.

you remember my sister-in-law,
don't you, Brandy?" was the question
that Leslie Wrandall put to friend
one afternoon, as they sat drearily in
a window of one Of the fashionable up
town clubs, little more than year
after the events described in the fore
going chapters. Drearily, have said,
for the reason that it was Sunday, and
raining at that.
81 met Mrs. Wrandall few years
ago in Rome" said his companion, re-
newing interest in a conversation that
had died some time before Of its own
exhaustion. she's most attractive.
saw her but once. think 1t was at
somebody's fete."
She's returning to New York the
end of the month";" said Leslie. Been
abroad for over a year. She had a
villa at Nice this winter"
81 remember her quite well. | was
of an age then to be particularly sem
sitive to female loneliness. If I'd been
staying on in Rome, l should have
screwed up the courage, I'm sure, to
| have asked her to sit for me-"
Brandon Booth was Of an old Phila-
delpha family: an old and wealthy
family. Both views considered, he was
qualified to walk hand in glove with
the fastidious Wrandalls. Leslie's
mother was charmed with him be-
cause she was also the mother of WV
| ian. The fact that he went in for por-
trait painting and seemed averse to
subsisting on the generosity Of his
father, preferring to live by his tai
ent, in no way operated against him.
so far as Mrs. Wrandall was con-
| cerned. That was his lookout, not
hers; IL he elected to that sort of
thing, all we'll and good. He could
afford to be eccentric; there remained,
in the perspective he scorned. the bulk
of a huge fortune to offset whatever
idiosyncrasies he might choose to Gull
tivate. Some day, in spite of himself,
she contended serenely, he would be
very. very rich. What could be more
desirable than fame, family and for
tune all heaped together and thrust
upon one exceedingly interesting and
handsome young man?
He had been the pupil of celebrated
craftsmen and painters in Europe, and
had exhibited n sincerity OF purpose
that was surprising, all things con-
sidered. The mere fact that he was
not obliged to paint in order to obtain
a living was sufficient cause for won
der among the artists he met and
studied with or under.
His studio in New York was not q
fashionable resting place. 1t was a
workshop. You could have tea there
of course, and you were sure to meet
people you knew and liked, but 1t wae
quite as much of a workshop as any
you could mention. He was not a
dabbler in art, not mere dauber OF
pigments: he was an artist.
Booth was thirty-perhaps a year
or two older; tall, dark and good look
ing. The air Of the thoroughbred
marked him. He did not affect loose
flowing cravats and baggy trousers
nor was he careless about his finger
nails. He was simply the ordinary
everyday sort of chap you would
meet in Fifth avenue during parade
hours, and you would take a second
look at him because of his face and
manner but not on account OF his
dress. Some of his ancestors came
over ahead of the Mayflower, but he
did not gloat.
Leslie Wrandall was his closest
friend and harshest critic. 1t didn't
really matter to Booth what Leslie
said of his paintings: he quite under
stood that he didn't know anything
about them.
when does Mrs. Wrandall RETURN
asked the painter, after long period
of silence spent in contemplation Of
the cleaning pavement beyond the
clubs window.
That's queer" said Leslie, looking
up. 81 was thinking Of Sara myself
She sails next week. I've had let
ter asking me to open her house II
the country. Her place is about two
miles from fathers. II hasn't beer
opened In two years. Her father built