Evening star., 1936-10-11


- PLEASE don't squirm," she COM
manded the young blacksmith, land try not
to scowl."
''You try holding an eight pound hammer
in this position for half an hour" suggested
John Braithwait.
"And yon try painting those mocking eyes
of yours and that bewildering mouth" She
dabbed at her canvas, getting nowhere with
the portrait.
Braithwait put down his blacksmith ham,
mer. stretched like big dog. and strode
across the smithy. He looked at the portrait
with sarcastic grin.
"TerribleT he said.
why what's wrong with it1" asked the
astonished girl.
Your values for one thing"
What do you know about paintingl"
stormed the young woman. She was angry.
curious, and suddenly trifle shy, standing
before this tall, sun-browned fellow who was
obviously laughing at her work.
"Yow perspective is cockeyed." he said.
Everything is out of proportion. Here, give
me brush!'
Sue watched, amazed. angry. and incred
ulous, while John Braithwait slashed away
at the canvas with quick, sure. masculine
strokes The limp appendages which she had
meant for arms took on a new, muscular life.
The background receded The figure came for
ward, took on quality of three -dimensional
reality. Suddenly the face was alive.
"Why, it's it's good" the girl said
against her will.
The man did not show that he had heard.
A strange intensity had come into his face;
his eyes glowed. Then he let his hand drop.
The light went out of his eyes, He turned
to the girl and handed her the brush.
Tears sprang into her angry eyes. She
snapped open her purse and thrust two bills
into his hand "Here are the two dollars for
posing"
"Keepi it! The pleasure was mine"
'Of all the difficult MODELS" Sue cried.
She had an unreasonable desire to slap the
mans face Instead she went to her car.
Speeding back to her big summer home on
Lake Geneva - playground of the rich in
southern Wisconsin - the girl reviewed the
humiliating events of the morning
She and her father, Conrad Franklin, a
well-to-do wholesaler of quality hardware.
came each year from Chicago to Lake Geneva.
She had often driven about the countryside
looking for types" If she came upon
farmer plowing. or lineman fixing telephone
wires, she ordered the fellow to pose. Usually
the amazed man did her bidding. But this
morning in a blacksmith shop in Milton
Junction she had met her match. Her model
had made her feel young and silly. Although
the wrought iron he was fashioning when
she drove up was undoubtedly good, she had
had no idea that he was an artist. Sue told
herself that she would never 60 to Milton
Junction again. She would never finish the
portrait.
For three days she kept that resolve. Then
one bright summer morning she drove across
country to the small Wisconsin town, drew
up beside the shop and entered the wide
front door unnoticed.
Two FORCES glowed blue-yellow in the
dusty, changing smithy. John Braithwait's
father was shoeing team of dapple-gTays.
Sparks flew as he beat the white-hot shoes;
the iron sizzled and steamed as he dipped it
into wooden tub of water. At the other anvil
John was fashioning Colonial lock.
The girl crossed the floor of worn oak
planks to the young mans side. He looked up,
startled - then smiled. WANT another lesson