The Press., 1922-05-04
The Black-Haired Girl in Red
By LAURA MONTGOMERY

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 In past years when Irene had nn- ished a picture she had used to rush downstairs and face her family eager eyed, but as she grew older she had learned to dread the laughter that sometimes greeted her. Irene loved color. Flaming tints, bizarre arrange ments of color combinations that no one else had dared, fascinated her. She had been submitting cover-designS to the magazines for years, but, as her brothers gibingly informed her, she had yet to make a single sale. Her paints were exceedingly costly, for the colOrs she used were invariably the most expensive.
 If you'd spend your allowance on your clothes instead of paints you'd look a lot better" observed Fred, star ing at the paint-stained frOck and un- tidy hair.
 Irene looked from the startling pie ture in her hand to her brothers face. Don't you like it bit?' she inquired, a somewhat beaten expres- sion creeping lnCO tcF eyes
 Fred's tauntiDg air dropped from him. This was the first time Irene had ever looked as though she thought defeat a probability. 'fll tell you. Irene" he began crisply. you are too nne-sided. No one can slave at one thing the way you do and do the best work. If you devoted even five hours n day to your painting and the rest to recreation, getting fresh viewpoints and becoming rested, you would do lot better. I think you have talent, but 1 don't believe you'll ever in this world make good the way you're rush ing at it. You have to be a bit all around to get the best out of life, you know
 Then you don't think this gOOd? ?' nervOusly she pushed back a wisp of curly black hair, and her hand left a smear of violet blue paint near her left eye which failed to improve her appearance.
 Annoyed by her mkempt look and trembling mouth, Fred ScOwled: No, 1t looks as though crazy person had created 1t. I suppose you are not go- ing to honor us by attending the dance at the Country club?"
 Irene stared down at her picture and then rushed from the room. Nc body cares" she wept when she had reached her room, that was redOlent of ancient paints.
 Daisy tapped at the door and then pushed 1t open. She carried cup of tea. and the very sight of the frail blue china and the tiny sandwiches re freshed Irene. Say, Irene" remarked the younger sister senslbly. drink this and slip into an evening frock and come with us. I believe Fred is right, although he is such a crab; if you go about a bit and eat properly you'd GO back to work feeling more ft."
 Irene pushed back her hair c second time, and Daisy began to laugh as the scarlet decorated the tired face. "I am too tired to dress" she began, but her sister interrupted her.
 Drink this tea and take your time in dressing. We're not going until half-past eight o'clock and you'll have plenty of time"
  down the wide black oak stairway She certainly looked like a different girl. Her tears had left no traces save a flush on either cheek that was becoming. Her black hair was caught up In a curly knot on the top Of her head and she had secured it with an old carved black comb with a high top. Her frock was an old One-lrene wasted little time on shOpping-but it was vastly becoming, vivid red chiffon that brought out the soft black of her velvety eyes. Gee. sis, you look like somebody now declared Fred. You know how to dress your self if you can't dress your impossible slant-eyed maldens. You" he screwed his eyes up as though inspecting picture, Tack something, though. Haven't you a black fan?"
 Irene, refreshed by the delicious tea, giggled. Nothing so banal; any one would think of a black fan because my eyes are dark. See!" and she brought her left hand. which had been behind her, out with flourish.
 The huge feather fan of brilliant blue gave touch of the bizarre to her costume that was exquisite. Fred hated to be effusive. but he really ad- mired his sister at that moment. She looked so tender and feminine, with her cloudy, curly hair about her face. If you painted a picture of that stair case with a pretty girl coming down in that dress 1t might not he SC bad he said slowly.
 All evening Fred's words fingered in the girls mind. He seldom praise, his sisters, and his words gave her ah idea If she stopped trying so earness ly for something different, if she paint- ed what she knew, she might achieve something. She had been trying t. do ideals that no one understood and no one had paused t0 try to unraveI her meaning in the impossible jumhles she had slaved upon.
 'Who is that girl in red?" she over heard stranger ask.
 She Is an artist, and l never knew until tonight that she was real girl, rejoined Richard Grieg. g man whom Irene had known for years and secret ly admired. He was man who ttit things in the business world-a sue cess.
 Richard danced four times with the black-haired girl in red, and DaiS! leased her gayly as they drove home in the moonlight. Guess l made 6 mistake coaxing you to go to the dance," she said. Fancy dancing foul times with that wonderful Richard Grieg."
 The change from the paint-laden air to the summer dower-scented breeze and the recreation of the successful evening did Irene worlds of good. Moreover, her ideas had freshened and she went to work with a steady hand. As she sketched in the outlines for a new cover her lips curved hap plly. After all, 1t was a pleasant thing tN hn a cfrl and uynar nraffv PlNfhAa