He said he had obtained my name from Mr. Sands and that he wanted to
engage me as a model for some decorative work he was doing. He had seen
me several times about the studio buildings, and had decided I was the
type for this particular work. As he said the work would
[Illustration: I was posing in a gypsy costume.]
last all summer, I was delighted, and I thanked him fervently. Then he
said:
“Suppose we have a little supper together somewhere.”
I was awfully sorry, but I had promised to help Miss St. Denis fix a
waist she was making. So I told this man I could not disappoint my
friend. He said: “As you please then,” and was going, when I asked him
for his address. He stopped and thought a moment, and then he wrote
something on a slip of paper and handed it to me. He told me to come to
work at ten the following morning, and, bowing, went. The address was in
Brookline, and as it was some distance out I planned to start early to
be sure to be there on time.
After the man had gone, all my lassitude vanished. I felt like dancing
and screaming, I was so relieved and happy. Here I was engaged for six
hours’ work a day for all of the summer. I rushed over to tell the good
news to Rose St. Denis. She said:
“I think it is too good to be true. It looks too easy. I think he will
want the model to pose nude, ha? You will not do so yet?” As I shook my
head, she said with a nod: “You will make very poor living if you don’t
do so, mon enfant. The artists have not enough to keep one model in work
in the costume, and then there are so many doing the same thing. Every
girl--all ze actress and ze chorus girl--even ze frien’ of ze artists,
she will pose in ze costume. Ze model cannot get enough work to keep
her, unless she is friend of some one or, maybe, she is complaisante to
ze artist--yes. Only when she pose nude in ze schools--see--she get ze
work, so long as she have ze belle figure. It is so. Now, which a model
prefer? Pose in nude, starve--or perhaps be maitresse to somebody--which
is ze same thing,” she added with a shrug as “aller au diable!” (to go
to the devil!)
“Which would you prefer?” I asked her.
“Mon dieu! some funny question you ask,” said the French girl. “It is
because I love my Alfred (Alfred was her fiancé) that I pose nude for ze
other mens; for because I pose comme ça I can keep myself good and pure
for only him. It would be more easy if I were not good. Do you not see,
enfant? I pose and stand on my poor feet for three, four, and sometimes
nine heures a day--nine heures when I do night work, and for zat I get
me fifty cent one heure. The bad girl she get very liddle time more
moneys than I; but me? I keep me my respect. Yes--it is so. Soon my
Alfred, he will come from France and we will marry. Then, enfant, ah! we
will be happy like cheeldren.”
Somehow when she was speaking, this model who posed in the nude, she
looked like the Virgin Mary, and I put my arms around her and kissed
her. She said:
“Pauvre enfant! Me? I know eet is hard for you! I have ze pity for you;
but dat will not put ze food in ze stomach! Non! Soon you will see!”
Happily I awoke next morning. I was going to start at good, steady work.
Now, I thought, I would pay Lu Frazer back all I owed her, and I’d send
mama some money every week, and Reggie’s letters should go unanswered.
He had written me saying that he was coming soon to Boston to bring me
home, unless I returned myself. And, I thought, I would buy myself a new
hat, and trim it with violets.
I went into the basement dining-room to get my breakfast, and the
landlady put a bill at my plate. It was for three dollars for meals I
had had. I told her I would pay her sure in a few days.
I had exactly five cents in my pocketbook when I started for Brookline,
but I intended to ask the artist to pay me a little in advance. They
often did that, and as I was to have steady work, I was sure he would
not object. I could not help thinking of a remark of my father’s, that
something always “turned up” and I felt that my something had come in
the nick of time.
It was three-quarters of an hour’s ride to the street in Brookline he
had marked on the card. I got off at last, and walked down the street,
looking at the numbers. I went up and down twice, but I could find no
such address. I went to nearly every second house on the street, but no
one knew the name I inquired for, and the clerk in the drug store where
I also inquired said there was no such man in the vicinity. Again and
again I looked, and then a sick sense of apprehension stole over me, and
I began to realize that I was the victim of some beastly hoax.
What in heaven’s name was I to do? I had no carfare even, and it was too
far to walk. I wandered about distractedly, and then I finally resolved
to get on the car, and when the conductor should ask for my fare, I
would pretend I had lost it. Then, I thought, “even if he puts me off, I
will be that much nearer home, and I will try another car.”
So I got on a car, but I suffered the shame of a cheat, when the
conductor finally came up to me, and I almost cried as I pretended to
search through my empty pocketbook. Then I heard the conductor’s voice.
He was a big red-faced Irishman, with freckles on his face, and he
grinned down at me:
“Aw, dat’s all right, kid!” he said, and taking a nickel from his own
pocket, he rang up my fare. When I was getting off, I said:
“Thank you, I’ll send it back to you, if you give me your name.”
He laughed:
“Dat’s all right, kid,” he said, and then leaning to my ear, he added:
“Say, do you want another nickel, sissy?”