Evening star., 1933-04-09

yellow slicker belted firmly about a
small span of waistline and a shabby
brown felt hat. She was standing
in front of the "Old Man Mapping"
It was the "Old Man Mapping" that Eric had
come to study. He had glmpsed 1t once, on
Wednesday, but Just as he had settled himself
to study it he had suddenly heard his fathers
voice and had fled precipitantly.
Not that he had anything to fear from dis
covery His father would not have been dis
pleased to find him there. Quite the contrary.
His father would have greeted him with
warm, if somewhat fustered smile.
"Why Eric! You here? This is a surprise!
didn't know you"
Strange how his father who could talk so
brilliantly so assuredly to the most important
and impressive was inept before his own
son.
He would reach up-he was somewhat
shorter than Erics six feet of bronzed, string
taut leanness-Erics mothers wedding ring
flashing from the little finger of his left hand,
and put his arm about Eric's shoulder, and try
to find out
But Eric did not want him to find out-not
about the painting. His father knew so much
about Raphaels Rubens, Rembrandts and such.
His father knew about everything, every one.
Except his own son.
IT don't see enough of you" Every now and
then his father said that. I'VE must get to-
gether one of these days. There are few
things have in mind for you now that you're
through with college" Eric had been through
half a year-was supposed to be taking
breathing space before settling down to more
serious labors. We've got to decide about
things" Eric had decided long ago. i wish
I could make it today" His fathers forehead
would ridge. But there's this matter"
THERE had been this matter" ever since
Eric could remember, ever since his mother
had died rest farm for mothers, a white
collar hospital, young men to see on to careers,
young women to help. In succession, with
never a let-up they engrossed his father, alb
sorbed him. So that he almost forgot he had
a son.
This woman this Carlys Calender whose
technique in etching had evoked such an
agitation among the critics, and whose "Old
Man Mapping" Eric had come thus early in
the morning to study-his father had found
her doing illustrations of hats in a COM
mercial art agency. For weeks now the talk
had been all of her. Miss Calender !. Miss
Calender His fathers voice glowed when
he spoke her name.
The girl in the yellow slcker moved over
and made room for him. They stood, the
two of them looking up at the face of an
old man. the face of a man who has seen
much of life and is content, even willing, to
relnquish it.
"It is good. isn't it?" Eric said suddenly
The brown felt hat turned, tilted, and a
face came out of it toward him; face that
he beheld with little of shock so vivid
and young and gold it was. Freckles spangled
1t, and eyes yellow like topaz flashed at him
out Of tawny skin. Tendrils Of crinkly red
gilt hair rayed about it like a halo, and he
was conscious of bowed mouth rather large
for face so small. He felt little staggered.
Some place, sometime, in a warm little space
Of the past he had known a face like that
well" sne said and there was a limpid
tinkle in her voice We'll I don't know"
Her topaz eyes were contemplative. The
mouth now have feeling that more could
have. been done with it. Haven't you?"
Eric gasped. The nerve Of her!
IT had thought it rather perfect" he
submitted stifay.
1T isn't" she said quietly. Its good, but
not perfect" Suddenly her eyes were upon
him enquirngly.
"You-do this sort of thing yourself?"
-Oh, moi" said Eric. disclaimingly And then
added, he knew not why: II paint"
Il see" She turned more directly toward
him. "Oils?"
Eric nodded.
-"Oils. Though I'm not so awfully hot I
mean I haven't had any instruction. I've
Just painted and tried to learn from what others
have done"
She digested this slowly
That's not such q bad way" she said. But
instruction does help. Saves time, gives you the
short cuts And one needs criticism impersonal
and from knowing sources"
Il know said Eric eagerly. But III get
everything straight this Summer. Iyou see
I'm going to study with Jones"
Here eyebrows went up. Benton Jones?
Then you must be goodf' In her eyes he could
zee a greater regard for him.
He wondered, with an acute sense OF longing