[Illustration: If you decide to take this room, I’ll make a reduction,
and I don’t mind gentlemen callers if you leave the door open.]
them from the turpentine that I used in my oil paints. She came to me
later and said:
“Mamselle, I am tell my husband you say the turpentine it may be will
spoil the portraits of my familee. He’s telling me dat will not spoil
it. But if mamselle will not be offend, I the pictures will put in my
own parlor, and if some time mamselle she have company, and wish her
room to look more elegant, I will give ze permission to hang them on her
walls again.”
The studio was all settled, and I stood to survey my work, a delightful
feeling of proprietorship coming over me. I breathed a sigh of blessed
relief to think I was now free of all home influence, and had a real
place all of my own.
“Here is some gentlemens to see mamselle,” called Madame Lavalle, and
there standing in the doorway, smiling at me with a merry twinkle in his
eye, was Colonel Stevens. I had not seen him since that night, nearly
four years ago, when Ellen and I went to ride with him in Mr. Mercier’s
carriage. With him now was a tall man with a very red face and nose. He
wore a monocle in his eye, and he was staring at me through it.
I was very untidy as I had been busy settling up, and my hair was all
mussed up and my hands dirty. I had on my painting apron, and that was
smudged over, too. I felt ashamed of my appearance, but Colonel Stevens
said:
“Isn’t she cute?”
Then he introduced us. His friend’s name was Davidson.
“We were on our way to the Club,” said the Colonel, “and as we passed
your place I saw your sign, and ‘By Gad,’ I said, ‘I believe that is my
little friend, Marion.’ Now Mr. Davidson is very much interested in
art.” He gave a little wink at Mr. Davidson, and then went on, “and I
think he wants to buy some of your paintings.”
“Oh, sit down,” I urged. Customers at once! I was excited and happy. I
pushed out a big armchair near the fire and Colonel Stevens sat down,
and seemed very much at home. Mr. Davidson followed me to where I had a
number of little paintings on a shelf. I began to show them to him,
pointing out the places, but he scarcely looked at them. Stretching out
his hand, he picked up two and said:
“I’ll take these. How much am I to give you?”
“Oh, five--” I began.
“Charge him the full price, Marion,” put in the Colonel. “He’s a rich
dog.”
“I get five dollars for two of that size,” I said.
“Well, we’ll turn it to ten for each,” smiled Mr. Davidson.
“Oh, that’s too much!” I exclaimed.
[Illustration: “Charge him the full price, Marion,” put in the Colonel.
“He’s a rich dog.”]
“Tut, tut!” said Colonel Stevens, laughing. “They are worth more. She
really is a very clever little girl, eh, Davidson?”
I felt uncomfortable and to cover my confusion I started to wrap the
paintings.
“No, no, don’t bother,” said Mr. Davidson, “leave them here for the
present. I’ll call another time for them. We have to go now.”
When Mr. Davidson shook hands with me he pressed my hand so that I could
hardly pull it away, and just as they were passing out, who should come
up the stairs but Reggie! When he saw Colonel Stevens and Mr. Davidson,
his face turned perfectly livid, and he glared at them. The minute the
door had closed upon them, he turned on me:
“What were those men doing here?” he demanded harshly.
My face got hot, and I felt guilty, though of what, I did not know.
“Well? Why don’t you answer me? What was that notorious libertine,
Stevens, and that beast, Davidson, doing here?” he shouted, and then as
still I did not answer him, he yelled: “Why don’t you answer me instead
of standing there and staring at me, looking your guilt? God in heaven!
have I been a fool about you? Have you been false to me then?”
“No, Reggie, indeed, I haven’t,” I said. “I didn’t tell you about Ellen
and I going out with him because--because--”