The herald. [volume] (New Orleans, La.) 1905-1953, 1915-07-22
HIS LAS! TEA FIGHT
BY HOPE AlNSLEE.


pated his sisters invitation.
Helen's pretty face became clouded
at once George! How rude. Tea
fights"
We'll. pink, blue or yellow teas
or anything you like TO call them. I've
escorted you this whole winter from
one studio to another. I've imbibed
gallons of sickly tea and eaten pounds
of cake and tarts and jam. and I've
listened to would-be artists rave for
hours about their souls and their TEN.
peraments. I'm sick of it
Wont you so just this once-this
afternoon? | promised you would be
there and believe you'll really like
Caroline Becker She has no tempera-
ment and of course | find her rather
dull"
III 60" interrupted her brother.
amy person living in a studio and
having 4 tea and that you can find dull
must be an oddity."
George turned away, whistling. He
had a sincere hope that his sister
would develop some common sense
after she had a season or two OF New
York studio life. She was young
AS they walked triskly down Cen
trail park west toward the studio build
ing in which Helen's dull" artist
friend lived, George Moore began to be
curious about his hostess to be.
He was more than curious when he
took her proffered hand and felt her
warm, strong grip as she welcomed
him and his sister to her studio. The
girl was beautiful, in a simple. sweet
way. She was like the girl he knew
in the West, not particle like the
girls his sister "adored" and who lived
in the studios he had been frequent
ing.
Neither was this studio like the
others. 1t looked more like a real
home than anything he had seen in
| New York. There was no oriental
| scent in the air; there were no dimly
lighted candle lamps. no smoking
table with ladies cigarettes" lying
| on it.
This is so cheerful and homelike,
/ Miss Becker" he found himself say
/ ing after he and his sister had admired
the picture that had won the Academy
prize.
"Oh. it is, really?" asked Caroline,
earnestly.
1T is, indeed" George repeated.
That's been one of my main OBJ
jects in the furnishing of it and in all
my little entertainments. I've tried
| to have the home atmOsphere-the
way mother does at home in Omaha
and. now don't laugh when | show
you something" She ran behind a
screen and returned with a stone
crock in her arms.
THE cookie crock" cried Helen.
81 can hardly believe my eyes" add
ed George
"And real, homemade cookies!" ex
planned Caroline, removing the top OF
the crock. Mother sends them every
week and always have some"
Each of the guests took a round
sugar-covered cookie and ate 1t as il
It were the best thing they had ever
tasted.
Il wouldn't exchange this cookie fol
all the French tarts or pate-de-foie
gras tid-bits in all the studios in New
York." said George Moore more en-
Enthusiastically than his sister had heard
him express himself since he had left
home.
"They are good" admitted Helen.
Its just that-they remind me o.
home" said Caroline.
AS George reached for third cookie
his sister frowned upon him.
George Moore! You laugh so louC
and eat so much. I'm ashamed o
you," she admonished.
Don't be. please, Miss Moore,
pleaded Caroline, putting a friendl!
hand on Helen's arm. It's so goo,
to see and hear him. It's like home
itself"
| And after that the guests began t,
: arrive so that George and his siste
, could not monopolize their hostess
I Helen had to drag her brother hom
r and as she usually had to urge him T.
remain even a polite length of time sh
was more than amused.
THAT is the first real girl I've me
3 at these tea fights, sis" he said a
\ they walked home.
- "Yes?" replied Helen, raising he
4 eyebrows. shes very pleasant"
q Pleasant, / should think she wa
e she's a peach! She's real genuin
girl and l intend to see much of hel
:. And hope that cookie crock will nc
y grow empty for I intend to make man
}, raid on It,"
I IL thought this was your last tie
a fight" suggested his sister.
George laughed. III forgive 20
e for taking me to this one, sis-hones
a l will"
For you saw the handwriting o
;, the wall of Caroline Becker's studio
a didn't you?" she asked, teasingly.
|, He nodded. Il did; did you?"
II And apparently the writing wa
g there. for the girl with the stone cook
q crock and the man who did not lik
. studio teas went to housekeeping in
), real home within twelve months frol
D. the day of their meeting.
Thick-Headed.
n You don't seem to think much {