|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 35
"So I proposed to these two castaways that we go in together and make a
home to suit ourselves. We were so dead tired of boarding. About that
time we picked up Henry, and as Henry has a noble bank account we went
into the project on a more lavish scale than we could have done
otherwise."
"_Henry!_" ejaculated Phil, who was watching the silhouette against the
window with evident pleasure.
"Yes, Miss Henrietta Robbins, a bachelor maid of some--well, I won't
tell how many summers, but she's 'past the freakish bounds of youth,'
and a real artist. She's studied abroad, and she's done things worth
while. That group of fishermen on the Normandy coast is hers," nodding
towards the opposite wall, "and that old woman peeling apples, and those
three portraits. Oh, she's the real thing, and a constant inspiration to
me. And she's brought so much towards the beautifying of our Crusoe
castle: all these elegant Persian rugs, and those four "old masters,"
and the bronzes and the teakwood carvings--you can see for yourself.
Lucy wasn't quite satisfied with the room at first. She missed the
fish-net draperies and cozy corners and the usual clap-trap of amateur
studios. But she's educated up to it now, and it's a daily joy to me. On
the other hand my broiled steaks and feather-weight waffles and
first-class coffee are a joy to poor Henry, who can't even boil an egg
properly, and who hasn't the first instinct of home-making."
"You don't mean to say that you do the cooking for this happy family!"
Joyce laughed at his surprised tone. "That's what makes it a happy
family. No domestic service problems. With a gas range, a fireless
cooker and all the conveniences of our little kitchenette, it's mere
play after my Wigwam experiences. We have a woman come several times a
week to clean and do extras, so I don't get more exercise than I need to
keep me in good condition."
"But doesn't all this devotion to the useful interfere with your pursuit
of the beautiful? Where do you find time for your art?"
"Oh, my art is all useful," sighed Joyce. "I used to dream of great
things to come, but I've come down to earth now--practical designing.
Magazine covers and book plates and illustrating. I can do things like
that and it is work I love, and work that pays. Of course I'd _rather_
do Madonnas than posters, but since the pot must boil I am glad there
are book-covers to be done. And _some_ day--well, I may not always have
to stay tied to the earth. My wings are growing, in the shape of a
callow bank account. When it is full-fledged, then I shall take to my
dreams again. Already Henry and I are talking of a flight abroad
together, to study and paint. In two years more I can make it, if all
goes well."
The striking of a clock made her glance up, exclaiming over the lateness
of the hour. "Phil," she asked, "would you mind telephoning down to the
station to find out if that Washington train is on time? That's a good
boy. That little sister of mine will think the sky has fallen if I'm not
at the station to meet her."
"You don't mean to tell me that _Mary_ is on her way here," exclaimed
Phil, as he rose to do her bidding. "Then I certainly have something to
live for. Her first impressions of New York will be worth hearing." He
scanned the pages of the telephone directory for the number he wanted.
"Yes, she and Betty are to spend their vacation with me. We are going
out to Eugenia's to-morrow afternoon to spend Christmas eve and part of
Christmas day."
"Then that was the surprise that Eugenia wrote about," said Phil, taking
out his watch. "She wouldn't tell what it was, but said that it would be
worth my while to come. Yes, the train is on time."
He hung up the receiver. "I won't be able to wait for it, if I get out
to Eugenia's for dinner, but I can see you safely to the station on my
way. It is about time we were starting if you expect to reach it."
Joyce made a final dab at her picture, dropped the brush and hurried
into the next room for her wraps. It seemed to Phil that he had scarcely
turned around till she was back again, hatted and gloved. The artist in
the long apron had given place to a stylish tailor-made girl in a brown
street-suit. Phil looked down at her approvingly as they stepped out
into the wintry air together.
The great show windows were ablaze with lights by this time, and the
rush of the crowds almost took her off her feet. Phil at her elbow
piloted her along to a corner where they were to take a car.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|