, 1925-05-20

ing: NOW eat your spinach every
scrap. or you can't have any dessert
. Carrots make your eyes bright.
Finish your potato. Potatoes
make you strongv"
Selma laughed, flushed a little.
"Yes, but how about hogs? Dc you
feel that way about hogs?'
Certainly" said Selma, briskly. She
pushed toward him n little blue-and-
white platter that lay on the white
cloth near her elbow. Have n bit
more bacon, Dirk. One of these nice
curly slivers that are so crisp"
"Tve finished my breakfast, Moth.
err" He rose.
The. following autumn saw him a
student of architecture at Cornell. He
worked hard, studied even during his
vacation.
He would come home to the heat
n humidity of the Illinois
and spend hours each day in his own
room that he had fitted up with a
long workable and a drawing board.
His T-square was at hand; two TRAN
gles-a 40 and a co; his compass; a
pnir of dividers. Selma sometimes
stood behind him watching him as he
carefully worked on the tracing paper.
His contempt for the local architec-
ture was now complete. Especially
did he hold forth on the subject Of the
apartment houses that were mush-
rooming on every street in Chicago
from Hyde Park on the south to
Evanston on the north. Chicago was
very elegant in speaking of these;
lever called them flats; always
apartments. In front of each of these
(there were usually six to a ~building)
was stuck n little ~glass-enclosed cubi-
Gle known us a sun-parlor. In these
sometimes you heard them spoken of.
grandly, as solariums) Chicago dwell
ers took refuge from the leaden skies,
the heavy lake atmosphere. the gray
mist and fog and smoke that so fire.
quently swathed the city in gloom.
They We're done in yellow or rose Gre
tonnes. SILK lampshades glowed there
in, and flower-laden boxes. In these
frank little boxes Chicago read its pa
per, sewed. played bridge, even ate
its breakfast. 1t never pulled down
tho shades.
"Terrible :" Dirk fumed. Not only
are they hideous in themselves. stuck
On the front of those houses like three
pairs of s%pectacles; but the lack of
decent privacy. They do everything
but battle in 'em. Have they never
heard the advice given people who live
in glass housesl'
BY his junior year he was talking
in a large way about the Beaux Arts.
Bur Selma did not laugh at this. Per
hnps," she thought. "WhO can tell
After a year or two In an office here,
why not another year Of study in Paris
II he needs it,"
Though 1t vas her busiest time on
the farm Selma went to Ithaca for his
graduation in 1913. He was twenty
two and, she was calmly sure. the best
looking man in his class. Undeniably
he was a figure to please the eye /;
tall, well-built, as his father had been,
and blond, too. like his father, except
for his eyes. These were brown-not
so dark as Selina's. but with some OF
the soft liquid quality of her glance.
They strengthened his face, somehow A.;
gave him m ardent look of which he
was not conscious. Women. feeling
the ardor Of that lark glance turned
upon them, were likely to credit him
with feelings toward themselves OF
which he was quite innocent. They
did not know that the glance and its
effect were mere matters of %plgmenta-
ton and eye-conformation. Then, too.
the gaze of a man who talks little Is
always more effective han that OF one
who is loquacious.
Selma, In her black silk dress, and
her plain black hat, and her sensible
shoes. was rather a quaint little figure
among all those %vivacious. bevoiled.
and b~erlbboned mammas. But a dis
tinctive little figure. too. Dirk need
moi be ashamed of her. She eyed the
rather paunchy. prosperous. middle
aged fathers n thought. with a pang
how much handsomer Pervus would
have been than n of these, II only
he could have lived to see his day.
Then. involuntarily. she wondered II
this day would ever have occurred,
had Pervus lived. Chided herself for
thinking thus.
When he returned to Chicago. Dirk
yer into the Office Of Hollis &
Sprague, architects. But his work
there was little more than that of
draughtsman. and his weekly stipend
could hardly be dignifed by the term
OF salary. But he had large ldeas
about architecture and he found ex-
preston for his suppressed feelings on
his week-ends spent with Selma ut the
farm.
"Baroque" was the word with which
he dismissed the new Beachside no.
tel. north. He said the new Lincoln
park bnndstand looked like an igloo.
He said that the city council ought to
order the Potter Palmer mansion de-
stroyed as a blot on the landscape.
and waxed profane on the subject OF
the east face of the Public Library