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 Nan had a trying time; she would get grandma posed just as she wanted her, 
 hen she would jump up and insist on going downstairs. Page 173. 
 
 Annice Wynkoop.
 
 ANNICE WYNKOOP 
 ARTIST 
 
 THE PERSEVERANCE OF A COUNTRY GIRL 
 
 By ADELAIDE L. ROUSE 
 
 " Perseverance and tact are the 
 two great qualities most valuable 
 for all who would succeed 
 in life." 
 
 A. L. BURT, PUBLISHER, 
 52-58 DUANB STREET, NEW YORK.
 
 COPYRIGHT, 18981 
 BY A. I. BRADLEY & CO
 
 ANNICE WYNKOOP, ARTIST. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE youngest Wynkoop girl stood at the back 
 gate, the wind blowing her yellow hair about her 
 ears. It was a spring wind, full of restlessness 
 and longing, and Nan Wynkoop her real name 
 was Annice, felt it. She had raked up the dead 
 leaves and made a bonfire, but the fire had been 
 out for several minutes, while she stood at the 
 gate, thinking as seriously as she had ever done 
 in all her nineteen years. And Nan was a serious- 
 minded young woman, despite her crinkly yellow 
 hair, and general air of " highty-tighty," as 
 Grandma Wynkoop called it. 
 
 Perhaps if it had been a fall wind Nan would 
 have had different thoughts. The spring winds 
 and the spring odors arouse all the gipsy in us. 
 We don't want to stay where we are " put," but 
 we want to try new adventures, and go, go, al- 
 most anywhere. Old Chaucer expressed all this 
 with : 
 
 " Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages." 
 
 5. 
 
 2137989
 
 6 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 Nan felt adventurous. She sniffed at the 
 woodsy odors that came from the grove across 
 the road, and fell to thinking again so hard that 
 she wrinkled her forehead as badly as Grandma 
 Wynkoop herself. 
 
 ' I'll do it, I must do it ! " and she stamped the 
 slim foot in the shabby russet shoe. " There ! It 
 is settled, and it has got to stay settled." Then 
 she went back to the bonfire. 
 
 " Out, I declare," and Nan poked one of the 
 embers with her foot. " I shall have to light it 
 again." After the fire was burning a new idea 
 seemed to strike her. She ran into the house 
 and went into a small bedroom off the kitchen. 
 
 After a brief dialogue a man's voice said, " Well, 
 I suppose you may if you think best. I don't 
 know as they will ever do anybody any good." 
 
 " Of course they won't, and it will do me a 
 great deal of good to burn them." 
 
 "What are you going to do, Nan?" called 
 Emma Anna from the sitting-room, where she 
 was bending over Mrs. Harper's new basque. 
 
 But Nan was already flying up the attic stairs. 
 Presently a long roll which looked like a map or a 
 chart flew out of the window. Another followed, 
 and then another, till twenty-six lay in the 
 yard. 
 
 In a second Nan was there herself, and had 
 popped one of the charts into her bonfire. 
 
 Mrs. Wynkoop came to the kitchen door with
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 7 
 
 a rolling-pin in her hand. " Why, Nan, child, 
 what are you up to?" 
 
 " Burning Smith's Illustrated Chart of the 
 World's History, that is all," and a second chart 
 went into the fire. 
 
 " But wait ; it isn't right. You oughtn't to do 
 it." 
 
 " Why not ? They are good for nothing, and 
 Pa said I could burn them. Now, Ma, don't say 
 anything, or he'll change his mind. And don't 
 let Charlotte hear of it, or she will try to stop 
 me. She is so stingy." 
 
 " It doesn't seem right to destroy property in 
 this way." 
 
 " Why not ? Pa paid for them, and I have 
 often heard you sigh over what they cost. I 
 should think you would be glad to have them 
 out of your sight." 
 
 " It may be a good thing to keep them in the 
 house to sort of hold over your Pa's head in case 
 he should take a notion to canvass again." 
 
 " There is something in that, but I think he has 
 had enough of canvassing," added Nan, hopeful- 
 ly. " The charts will make a beautiful bonfire, that 
 will be the only thing they ever were good for." 
 
 " Well, I'll take out five or six, and you may 
 burn the rest, but it doesn't seem right." 
 
 Mrs. Wynkoop went back to her pie-crust, 
 not very well satisfied, and Nan worked hard. 
 In a few minutes all the charts were on the
 
 8 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 funeral pyre. Then she danced around it, sing- 
 ing and waving her arms. She looked like a 
 priestess of some mysterious order, in her red 
 cape, and red Tamo' Shanter, with the yellow hair 
 flying about her shoulders. 
 
 Charlotte came through the back gate, and 
 stopped in amazement. " Nan, you grow wilder 
 every day you live." 
 
 " Haven't I a right to be wild in my own back 
 yard ? I behave myself usually, ma'am. This is 
 a special occasion, and it calls for special demon- 
 stration." 
 
 "What are you burning? It smells like var- 
 nish or paint." 
 
 " I should think it might. I've burned all of 
 Pa's old charts." And Nan began her dance and 
 incantations again. 
 
 " It is a shame," said Charlotte. " I wonder 
 that Pa let you burn them." 
 
 " I think he was glad enough to get rid of them." 
 
 " But what put the idea in your head ?" 
 
 " Oh, the air. It's so something that makes 
 one want to do new things. I've had a beautiful 
 time out here this morning, all by myself, and I 
 have settled my affairs. There is nothing like 
 fresh air to make one see things clearly." 
 
 " I hope you have made up your mind to take the 
 Pine Ridge school." Charlotte spoke anxiously. 
 
 " No ; I shall never teach. There is no use in 
 talking about it, Charlotte, I hate teaching so that
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 9 
 
 I have no business with it. Can't you see that ? 
 I have too much conscience to do anything as 
 poorly as I should do teaching. But as I said, I 
 have made up my mind 
 
 " To what?" asked Charlotte sharply. 
 
 " To go to New York in the fall and study art." 
 
 Poor Charlotte, if a bomb had struck her she 
 could not have clutched the peach-tree more close- 
 ly. Nan was very quiet after she had fired her 
 heaviest gun, and nothing was heard but the saucy 
 caw of a crow wheeling overhead. 
 
 Presently Emma Anna came to the kitchen 
 window and tapped with her thimble. 
 
 " Dinner is ready," said Charlotte, finding her 
 breath at last, and she started for the house. 
 Nan slowly followed her, feeling more than half 
 frightened at the boldness of her plan, and wonder- 
 ing if she would have the courage to carry it out. 
 
 She took her place at the table and ate her 
 share of fried ham and boiled potato and squash 
 in silence. When the plates of dried-apple pie 
 began to circulate, she opened her mouth, and by 
 a great effort, delivered herself of the news which 
 had frightened Charlotte a few moments before. 
 
 If Nan had enjoyed creating a sensation she 
 would have had her fill that day. The rest of the 
 family were as speechless as Charlotte, except 
 Mr. Wynkoop, who had not understood, and who 
 called from the bedroom. 
 
 " Who is going to New York ? "
 
 IO Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 A groan was his only reply, when Nan explained. 
 The silence grew oppressive, and, as if to end it, 
 they all rose, the pie being finished, and left the 
 table. Emma Anna went back to Mrs. Harper's 
 basque, Charlotte began to gather the dishes to- 
 gether, and Mrs. Wynkoop sat down in the Boston 
 rocker and did nothing, a most unusual procedure 
 for her. The other member of the family, Harriet, 
 had not yet come, and Charlotte put some dinner 
 in the oven for her. 
 
 Nan took up the dish towel, intending to dry 
 the dishes, but Charlotte gently took it away from 
 her. Then Nan went into the sitting-room, where 
 her mother still sat in the rocking chair. Emma 
 Anna was putting the whalebones in the basque 
 now. 
 
 The room w^s very hot from the airtight stove, 
 and Nan's head began to ache. She had half a 
 mind to go for a long tramp over the hill, yet she 
 wanted to stay and have some one talk to her 
 about her plan. She knew they would think her 
 crazy ; she expected open opposition, and a great 
 deal of it ; but she was not prepared for this 
 silence. 
 
 " Have you any overcasting for me to do, Emma 
 Anna?" she asked humbly, 
 
 Emma Anna bent to bite her thread and then 
 shook her head. 
 
 Nan felt herself growing nervous. Would no 
 one scold her? Perhaps her father would. She
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 11 
 
 went into the bedroom. " I am going for a walk, 
 and I may stop at Uncle David's. Do you want 
 to send any message to him ? " 
 
 " No." And Mr. Wynkoop turned again to 
 the county paper. 
 
 Nan put on her hat and strolled out to the barn. 
 Two or three cats came up to her and rubbed 
 themselves against her skirts. She stooped to 
 stroke them, and she picked up the Maltese one 
 and carried it with her. The old gray horse poked 
 his nose out of his stall and neighed in friendly 
 greeting. Nan patted him and fed him wisps of 
 hay. " You are the only one who will talk to me, 
 Billy. Every one else thinks I am a wretch, an 
 ungrateful wretch. I am ostracized, if you know 
 what that means, Billy." 
 
 Billy neighed again, and seemed to look as if he 
 appreciated the situation. 
 
 " They would blame you too, Billy, if they 
 knew that you took me to town where I got Miss 
 Frost's letter. You deserve to be ostracized too." 
 
 Nan climbed into the haymow and gathered 
 the eggs, and then went to look at the little 
 chickens. She took one of the fluffy things in her 
 lap and sat down in the barn door. The Maltese 
 kitten, finding herself supplanted, went back to 
 the mother cat. 
 
 " I wonder if they are right and I am wrong. 
 Am I a selfish thing? I don't believe it. I don't 
 expect any fun. I know I shall work harder
 
 12 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 than if I taught school, but it will be my work, 
 and that makes all the difference in the world. If 
 I should teach a few years and then study art I 
 would No, I never would study at all if I waited. 
 I would lose my interest as I would lose my 
 youth. I would become like Charlotte and Emma 
 Anna; they are afraid of things. Anything new 
 frightens them. They lie awake half the night if 
 they are going to a town ten miles away to shop. 
 I won't belike them. I'll dare things, and I'll go 
 to New York to study art. 1 have made up my 
 mind again. Now I am going for a long walk. 
 Nothing straightens me out like a good tramp." 
 
 Nan got up with such a rush that she fright- 
 ened a sedate Brahma hen that had been pulling 
 a fishworm out of the ground. She ran away, 
 leaving the worm, and cackling a remonstrance. 
 The worm was drawing itself back into its hole, 
 but Nan walked away, and left the hen to finish 
 its marketing. 
 
 A moment more, and she was well on her way 
 down the road, her red cloak making a bright spot 
 on the landscape. She climbed hills, never slack- 
 ing her pace, and if a fence was in her way she 
 climbed it without thinking that it was any effort, 
 The dogs came out from the farmyards as she 
 passed, and she called them all by name and 
 stopped to pat their heads. She came back after 
 an hour or two with her hands full of wild flowers, 
 and a splendid glow on her cheeks.
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 13 
 
 After the flowers were arranged in vases and 
 bowls, Nan ran up to her \room. Formerly she 
 had occupied a large room- with Harriet, adjoin- 
 ing the one which belonged to Emma Anna and 
 Charlotte, but this spring she had moved into a 
 smaller room where she could " spread eagle" her- 
 self, as she explained to Harriet. 
 
 It was a bare little room, for furniture was 
 scarce in the Wynkoop household. So Nan had 
 set up housekeeping with the odds and ends she 
 could pick up. Still, the room had an " air," as 
 Nan told herself. The toilet table had been a 
 soap box, or rather, two soap boxes, and Nan had 
 draped them with some old dotted muslin, well 
 darned and laundered. The little mirror was a 
 cheap affair, which made Nan look as if she had 
 incipient mumps in the left cheek, but she had 
 draped more of the old muslin around it, and it 
 made a very pretty dressing-table. The one 
 window had a muslin curtain tied back with a 
 green ribbon. There was a wide couch which 
 served for a bed by night, and a divan by day. 
 It was covered, while doing duty as a divan, with 
 pale green calico, and it was heaped with pillows 
 covered with calico or some other cotton goods, 
 in all the tints of green. The pillows were 
 stuffed with straw, for Nan could not indulge in 
 down, but, as she said, the effect was the same, and 
 she was very well satisfied with her " pillowy" 
 place. The few books which the girl could call
 
 14 Annie e Wynkoop^ Artist. 
 
 her own were ranged on a home-made bookshelf, 
 for Nan could do a bit of carpentry work upon 
 occasion. She did not stop now to look at her 
 room, though she was very proud of it. She 
 opened a closet door and took out an armful of 
 sketches, which she pinned on the wall. Then she 
 sat down on the divan to study the pictures. Her 
 face flushed and her eyes grew brighter. 
 
 " I can paint, I know it. Nan Wyncoop, my 
 dear, there is no doubt that you are meant for an 
 artist. I can't help being a little proud of you, 
 my girl." And Nan kissed her hand to her own 
 reflection in the mirror. " I shall make some- 
 thing of myself ; I am going to New York to study 
 art. I am going this fall. I'll have nothing to 
 wear, and I'll live on one meal a day, if need be, 
 but I'll study, study. I would rather be as poor 
 as a church mouse and be able to see things and 
 feel like this than to be rich and not care for 
 them. I am glad I am Nan Wynkoop, with red 
 hair and old clothes." 
 
 A quick step outside was followed by a brisk 
 rap. " Let me in, I want to see the new 
 room." 
 
 ' Oh, it is you, Harriet? Come in, of course, 
 but you won't like my room. You'll say it is 
 flighty like its inmate," said Nan, as if pitying 
 Harriet's lack of appreciation. 
 
 Harriet was a large woman of twenty-eight. 
 She was next in age to Nan, though there was a
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 15 
 
 gap of many years between their ages. She had 
 an alert air, very different from the manner of the 
 two older sisters. In this respect Nan resembled 
 her. Harriet was the librarian of a town a few 
 miles away, and she came home only once a week, 
 spending Sunday with her family. 
 
 Nan's little room seemed to grow smaller when 
 Harriet came in. She dropped down on the green 
 couch and proceeded to take in the room. 
 
 " What are you having, an exhibition ? " 
 
 "Yes, this is a private view. I wouldn't let 
 any one else in. All the others would laugh, and 
 I am not sure that you don't. I don't mind 
 your laughing, though." 
 
 " Why ? " 
 
 " Oh, because you understand me better than 
 the others do. We are alike." 
 
 Harriet laughed. " Am I to consider that a 
 compliment ? " 
 
 " We are more adventurous than the rest. We 
 like to do things. Some day you will fly away 
 from that library and do something unexpected. 
 Charlotte and Emma Anna will never do anything 
 that they haven't always done. Harrie, were they 
 all talking about me downstairs? They acted as 
 if there had been a death in the house." 
 
 " I suppose mother would feel that half the 
 house was gone if she let her baby go to New 
 York." 
 
 "Oh, then they have told you," and Nan
 
 1 6 Annice Wynkoop^ Artist. 
 
 breathed a sigh of relief. " Now, Harriet, don't 
 try to pull a long face and try to freeze me out as 
 the others do. I'm simply perishing to talk to 
 some one. It isn't a crazy plan at all, but I wasn't 
 allowed to explain myself. I wanted to be ques- 
 tioned, not snubbed. You'll listen, won't you, 
 Harriet ? " 
 
 " Yes ; " and Harriet settled herself comfortably. 
 " Now, go on and tell me how you expect to live 
 in New York on nothing. We find it hard enough 
 to do it here." 
 
 " There is Aunt Annice's money, and I'll never 
 want it more than I do now." 
 
 " But you can't get your money till you are of 
 age." 
 
 " Deacon Halleck will let me have it." 
 
 Harriet laughed. " Deacon Halleck and you 
 are great cronies." 
 
 " The deacon appreciates me. I'm going to 
 paint his portrait as soon as he is through planting 
 and can take time to sit. I made a sketch of Mrs. 
 Halleck for him, and he was delighted. It was 
 good. I sketched her as she was paring potatoes 
 for dinner, and the deacon said the polka-dots 
 in her dress were as natural as life." Nan's eyes 
 twinkled. " So I know he'll let me have the money 
 to go and learn how to paint polka-dots." 
 
 " But Aunt Annice's money, all told, amounts 
 only to three hundred dollars." 
 
 "Yes; but it will last a year, and by that time
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 17 
 
 I will know beyond a doubt whether I can paint 
 or not/' 
 
 "And if you can't?" 
 
 " I know I can." 
 
 " I think you have talent, Nannie, but if you 
 find out that you haven't and your little money 
 is all gone, what then ? I am supposing a 
 case." 
 
 " Then I'll come home and sew with Emma 
 Anna, but I must know." 
 
 " I think you are right. If you feel about 
 your art as you seem to, you can stand a few 
 hardships while you are getting ready for your 
 work." 
 
 " Feel about it," repeated Nan, getting on her 
 feet, and spreading her hands out toward her pic- 
 tures, " I couldn't express my feeling till I found 
 this in Browning the other day : 
 
 " ' Could you write books, 
 Paint pictures ! One sits down in poverty 
 And writes and paints with pity for the rich.' " 
 
 Harriet nodded. " I know, or rather, I can 
 imagine something of it. You have the artistic 
 temperament, I believe." 
 
 " I have, and I can stand anything for the sake 
 of art. I am so glad that you are going to stand 
 by me, Harrie." 
 
 " I can't help wanting to stand by you, but 
 .perhaps .1 '. am : doing wrong. You . are a very 
 
 2
 
 1 8 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 young girl to be alone in a great city, and you 
 are much too good-looking," added Harrie, 
 grimly. 
 
 " Thank you, ma'am. I am not a silly girl if I 
 am young, and I will be very sensible. I will be 
 good, Harrie, I truly will. I have thought a great 
 deal this winter and spring, and I see I can't give 
 this idea up. When I think about living, no, I'll 
 call it staying, on here year after year, as Emma 
 Anna and Charlotte do, I choke." And Nan 
 tugged at her collar to loosen it. " It is such a 
 gray life, and I won't settle down to it without a 
 struggle. This morning I went to the post-office, 
 and there was a letter from Miss Frost. She 
 writes that there will be no summer class this 
 summer, for she is going abroad with her brother. 
 I felt desolate when I got as far as that, for I 
 have been living along till summer should come. 
 Then this is the part that made me so crazy to- 
 day," and Nan took the letter from her pocket. 
 
 " ' You positively must come to New York this 
 winter. You are losing time, and every year is 
 precious. If you can put your hands on a few 
 hundred dollars, come by all means. You can 
 get board as low as four dollars a week if you are 
 willing to shut your eyes to some disagreeable 
 things.' " 
 
 Nan put the letter in her pocket. " I can put 
 my hands on three hundred dollars, and I am 
 going in the fall. To-night I am going to apply
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 19 
 
 for entrance to the art school. Miss Frost ad- 
 vises me to do so at once." 
 
 So saying, Nan began to put away her sketches, 
 and Harriet went to her room to write out her 
 weekly report.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 ALTHOUGH Nan's family had tormented her 
 by their silence at first, they soon found their 
 voices, and expressed themselves very freely on 
 the subject nearest to her heart. There was no 
 specific thing that they dreaded, but, as Nan said, 
 they were so in a rut that anything new frightened 
 them. No one forbade her going to New York, 
 so she wrote her application and sent it to the 
 art school, but her mother went about her work 
 singing China, which was a sign of the deepest 
 depression of spirits. Mrs. Wynkoop always sang 
 at her work, but the tunes she selected were usu- 
 ally of a cheerful nature. She seldom sang any- 
 thing so lugubrious as China unless the interest on 
 the mortgage failed to be forthcoming, or they lost 
 a head of cattle. Nan listened to China for a 
 day or two and wondered if she were selfish. 
 Her little legacy would do so much for the family. 
 Yes ; she told herself, that was one side, but there 
 was another side. " Perhaps I can take good 
 care of mother yet with my brush, but I know 
 that if I stay here, year after year, I will never do 
 anything but keep soul and body together." 
 
 Mr. Wynkoop did not express his feelings in 
 20
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 21 
 
 music, but he read Pope's " Essay on Man," and 
 that indicated that he was in the depths. Usu- 
 ally he read nothing but the county paper. 
 When he read Pope, which was one of the books 
 which he had possessed as a young man, it was a 
 sign that he felt the solemnity of life. 
 
 After a week or two the household relapsed 
 into its usual ways. Mrs. Wynkoop sang Dundee, 
 instead of China, and Mr. Wynkoop rattled his 
 newspaper as usual. Nan guessed that they were 
 comforting themselves with the thought that she 
 would forget her whim, and be content to jog on 
 with the rest of the family. " They will see that 
 it is more than a whim," she would say to her- 
 self, as she dusted and washed dishes, made beds, 
 and helped Emma Anna with her sewing. She 
 seldom mentioned her plan, but, sleeping or wak- 
 ing, it was never out of her thoughts. 
 
 In the village parlance, the Wynkoop family 
 were " unlucky." Jonas Wynkoop, as he was fam- 
 iliarly called, had never been a success at farming, 
 even in the days when there was " money in it," 
 and now the ninety rocky acres which were left 
 of a once large farm did not begin to support the 
 family. He had always hated farming, and had 
 tried to do many other things, but after each at- 
 tempt to better himself he had returned to the 
 farm, poorer than ever. As the neighbors were 
 wont to say when they enumerated his different 
 experiments, " he had book-agented, kept grocery,
 
 22 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 been a life insurance agent, and a horse doctor." 
 Canvassing had been one of his favorite ventures, 
 but whether he carried " The Illustrated Chart of 
 the World's History," or " The American Light- 
 ning Eradicator," warranted to take spots out of 
 everything, he never sold his goods. The charts 
 lumbered up the attic, and the eradicator turned 
 rancid in the woodshed. He simply had no fac- 
 ulty, as his more enterprising neighbors said. 
 
 It was thought a pity that there were no boys 
 in the family. Four girls seemed like an affliction. 
 Not that any of the older ones ate any idle bread ; 
 far from it. Emma Anna with her dressmaking, 
 Charlotte with her teaching, and Harriet with 
 her salary as librarian, had long kept the family 
 fortunes up. Nan was the only one who was not 
 a wage earner, and the villagers took it for granted 
 that she would follow in Charlotte's steps and be 
 a teacher. She had graduated from the high 
 school the summer she was eighteen, and it was 
 supposed that she would " take a school " in the 
 fall. 
 
 She had always made pictures, from the time 
 she spoiled her books at school with caricatures 
 of the teachers. When she was older she picked 
 berries and sold them to get money to buy 
 her paints, and she had worked alone, with an 
 occasional lesson from a local artist. Young and 
 ignorant as Nan was, she guessed that she was 
 better off without any teaching, and then for two
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 2$ 
 
 or three years she had no instruction whatever. 
 The summer she was seventeen an art teacher 
 from New York had a summer class near a neigh- 
 boring town. Nan was familiar with her name, 
 from the art criticism in the religious weekly 
 which her father took. She selected some of her 
 work, and with a palpitating heart went to the 
 lady and asked her if she could ever learn to 
 paint. 
 
 Nan was prepared for a great disappointment, 
 but she was not ready for the answer she re- 
 ceived. 
 
 " You know a good deal about painting already. 
 Your coloring is quite remarkable. Drawing is 
 your weak point : you need instruction, but your 
 work is full of promise. Now tell me all about 
 yourself, what you have done, what you mean 
 to do, everything." 
 
 There was not much to tell, poor Nan ! She 
 lived in a little brown house, she had no money, 
 but she wanted to paint. 
 
 " There are thousands of girls who can tell the 
 same story," she said, with a quiver in her voice. 
 
 "Yes; but not more than a handful of them 
 has the promise you show. I shall be glad to have 
 you work with me, if you like, and let me say frank- 
 ly that I wish to help you as one artist may help 
 another. So let us say nothing of money. I see 
 that you are independent, and you hesitate to 
 take help from a stranger. Once I was just where
 
 24 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 you are ; and I had to let a stranger help me or 
 give up the art I loved. I am glad that I can say 
 I was sensible enough to accept help. I'll teach 
 you now, and by and by you may pass the help 
 on to some other girl. 
 
 ' Good ! So that is settled," said Miss Frost, 
 when Nan had thanked her, somewhat awkwardly, 
 it must be confessed. " What do you mean to 
 paint, landscape or portraits ? " 
 
 "Oh, portraits, by all means, if I can." 
 
 "There is no reason why you shouldn't. I 
 should choose portrait painting if I didn't have 
 more talent for landscape. When you go to 
 New York you must study with a portrait 
 teacher. Meantime you can learn something with 
 me." 
 
 That summer went by on wings. Nan gave up 
 everything else and worked with a feverish 
 anxiety ; she felt that it might be her only op- 
 portunity for instruction, and she made the most 
 of it. It was only a small class, and the other 
 pupils were very good-natured. They liked Nan 
 and they helped her in many ways. She had 
 the advantage of hearing the criticisms of the 
 work of the others, and she never missed a word. 
 Her progress surprised even Miss Frost, who had 
 expected a good deal of the girl. 
 
 When the class broke up Nan felt that the 
 
 world had come to an end. Miss Frost advised 
 
 -her by all means to continue her work, and to set
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 25 
 
 her heart on going to New York to study. In 
 the mean time she would nt forget her. 
 
 Nan thanked her with a quivering voice. At that 
 time she saw no hope of going on with her work. 
 She must teach school for her bread and shoes ; 
 art was a luxury not to be thought of. Her 
 father could not help her, nor would she take as- 
 sistance from any of her sisters. They were 
 denying themselves many things so that they 
 might keep the roof over their heads. Nan felt 
 that she should apply for the Pine Ridge school 
 and do her share toward bearing the family ex- 
 penses. While she hesitated some one else se- 
 cured the school. Nan took it as a sign that she 
 was not to teach, and she shut herself in an attic 
 room, which had nothing to recommend it for a 
 studio but a north light. 
 
 She had painted steadily all the winter, going 
 twice a month to a city thirty miles distant for a 
 criticism. The neighbors calculated the expense 
 of these trips, and guessed that Harriet paid for 
 them. They did not approve of them. Nan 
 could paint well enough now. Her pictures were 
 good enough to send to the county fair, or to hang 
 in the parlor. She never had sent any of her 
 work to the fair, and it was suspected that she 
 was too proud to do so. The Wynkoop family 
 were called proud, though all the neighbors agreed 
 that they had no reason to be ; they had no 
 money, nor no good furniture in their house.
 
 26 Annice Wynkoop y Artist. 
 
 Nan's family were naturally disappointed that 
 she did not teach, but they said nothing to her, 
 only now and then her mother would shake her 
 head over the girl's shabby dresses, and tell her 
 that she might dress like a lady if she would teach. 
 Nan wore the old dresses cheerfully, and went on 
 painting in her cold little room upstairs. 
 
 That winter an aunt for whom Nan was named 
 died, leaving her a little legacy. To her that 
 meant one thing, a year in New York. Her 
 mother and sisters wondered that she did not re- 
 plenish her shabby wardrobe, but she would not 
 touch a cent of the sum. Her painting improved 
 every day after her hope for an opportunity for 
 study became a possibility. She realized this 
 herself, and she spent many happy hours in her 
 cold little room. Often some one would climb 
 the attic stair and rouse her, when she would re- 
 alize that she was cold and tired and hungry. 
 
 As the spring advanced Nan's thoughts dwelt 
 more and more on going to the city to study, but 
 she hesitated to broach the subject to her family. 
 It was an unpropitious time to make any new 
 venture; the family were poorer than ever, if 
 that were possible. Mr. Wynkoop had fallen from 
 a barn while trying to shingle it to save carpen- 
 ter's wages, and had broken his leg. This kept 
 him helpless in the bedroom adjoining the sit- 
 ting-room for weeks. The spring work on the 
 farm was far behind, for the man whom Harriet
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. If 
 
 had hired took his own time and method of doing 
 it. Mrs. Wynkoop looked more worried than 
 usual. The interest on the mortgage had been 
 raised by Charlotte and Emma Anna, so the 
 nightmare of foreclosure was past for another 
 year. 
 
 Mr. Wynkoop was the most cheerful member 
 of the family during this trying time. Always 
 ill with some mortal disease, he had " enjoyed 
 poor health," ever since the children could re- 
 member. If the slightest ailment seized him the 
 whole family had to wait on him ; but this winter 
 when he had been really ill, he had borne his 
 pain with much patience. 
 
 Such being the state of affairs, Nan did not see 
 how she could leave home and enter on a long 
 and expensive period of study. Still, she rea- 
 soned, the worse circumstances were, the greater 
 was the need for her to fit herself for supporting 
 herself and helping others. 
 
 She was at the parting of three ways. School 
 teaching would mean a living, but all her soul 
 cried out for a chance to cultivate the gift which 
 she felt had been given her. Still another way 
 was open to her ; she knew that, though she had 
 not been told so in words. And this way was older 
 than either art or schools ; it was as old as the 
 world. Before women had taught or painted 
 they had " married and settled down." Every 
 one in the town and in the farms around knew
 
 28 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 that Mr. Bamford, the principal of the high 
 school, was trying to " wait on" Nan Wynkoop. 
 He had been in Macedonia two years, and during 
 the first year Nan had been his pupil. During 
 the second year he had done his best to woo this 
 refractory ex-pupil. There were plenty of girls 
 who had no art in their heads who were inclined 
 to look with favor on the young pedagogue. 
 Nan did not look on him with favor, which partly 
 accounted for the ardor of his suit. What his 
 intentions were was evident to the most obtuse of 
 observers, though, so far, Nan had kept him from 
 explaining them to her. Nan's family could not 
 tell whether she was inclined to like Mr. Bamford 
 or not. She made a good deal of fun of him, and 
 declined to discuss the subject with seriousness. 
 Surely life was full of interest to " the youngest 
 Wynkoop girl," as she was usually called. 
 
 Nan did not include Mr. Bamford in her plans ; 
 she would either teach or paint. A letter from 
 Miss Frost, going into detail about boarding- 
 houses, art schools, and any expense which would 
 be likely to come up, had settled Nan's mind 
 once for all. She could have free instruction at 
 Cooper Institute, and she could get board for 
 four dollars a week. Aunt Annice's money would 
 cover every expense. Nan was sure that she must 
 go ; she fought the battle over inch by inch, as she 
 drove old Billy home that spring morning, and it 
 was while the bonfire was burning that the matter
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 29 
 
 was settled, as we have seen. When her appli- 
 cation for admission to Cooper was mailed, she 
 ceased to worry about the matter. She painted 
 less than usual during the summer, and devoted 
 herself to sewing and housework, two things 
 which she disliked as people with the artistic 
 temperament only can dislike them.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE summer was gone, and autumn had begun 
 to try its brushes on a few trees. Annice was 
 not making bonfires, but she was very busy get- 
 ting her clothes ready " to go to New York and 
 study art." Poor girl, the thing itself was still 
 the one thing to be desired, but she was very tired 
 of having people speak to her about it. Nothing, 
 she told Harriet, had made such a commotion 
 since the druggist's daughter eloped with a tin- 
 peddler. 
 
 Nan sat in the sitting-room this bright autumn 
 afternoon, sewing on the blue serge which was to 
 be her winter dress, and wondered if she was real- 
 ly going after all. It seemed too good to be true, 
 and she lived in hourly expectation of something 
 which would keep her home. She was so busy 
 with her thoughts that she basted her sleeve up- 
 side down, and Emma Anna made her rip it. 
 
 " It is a good sign to rip a dress," said Nan 
 cheerfully, " it is a sign that I will live to wear it 
 out. I thought it looked a little queer, Emma 
 Anna, but I didn't know what was the matter." 
 
 As Nan got up to find the scissors she heard 
 wheels, and she went to the window to take ob- 
 30
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 31 
 
 servations. Mr. Bamford alighted and tied his 
 horse to the hitching post in front of the house. 
 
 " ' Froggy would a wooing go '," hummed Nan 
 mischievously. " I suppose he wants me to go 
 for a drive, a farewell drive, I am not sure that I 
 ought to go without a chaperon." 
 
 Harriet came in just then to say that Mr. Bam- 
 ford was in the parlor. 
 
 " You would better put on another dress, Nan, 
 and your hair is tumbled." 
 
 " It usually is tumbled ; it was made so. I 
 suppose the professor wants to take me for a 
 drive. It is proper to have a chaperon. Emma 
 Anna's dressmaking paper says that a young 
 woman should take her mother along when she 
 goes buggy riding with a young man. I'm sure 
 mother won't go, so you'll have to, Harrie." 
 
 " You would better hurry and change your 
 dress," laughed Harriet. " Imagine Mr. Barn- 
 ford's blank look if you were to propose taking 
 me." 
 
 " Has the professor an arithmetic in his pocket ? 
 I suppose it would be prudent to take a slate and 
 pencil along; he might ask me to do an example 
 in partial payments, or to diagram a sentence. 
 What should I do if he should ask me to parse 
 'Satan, than whom none higher sate.' ' 
 
 Harriet pushed her. " Don't be so silly. Mr. 
 Bamford is a nice young man, only he is a little 
 teachery. You'll see the time, perhaps, when you
 
 32 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 are a shabby artist, living on crackers, without 
 cheese, that you'll wish that you were Mrs. Barn- 
 ford, getting your living from the very teaching 
 that you despise." 
 
 " I couldn't marry him ; he would be sure to 
 review me on the multiplication table, and I don't 
 know my 'leven times yet. Don't look so stern, 
 Harriet, it isn't becoming. I am going this min- 
 ute. Bound Connecticut. Give the table for Troy 
 weight. State the causes which led to the Rev- 
 olutionary War. There, I think I have my mind 
 somewhat limbered up. I hope I'll get a hundred 
 on this examination." 
 
 Mr. Bamford and Nan took the road over the 
 hills, and as the horse mounted the first spurs of 
 the Catskills, he turned from a dissertation on 
 geological formations to ask, 
 
 "When do you leave, Miss Annice?" 
 
 " Next Friday." 
 
 "Ah, I apprehended that this might be your 
 last Saturday, and I could not let the opportunity 
 slip. I trust you do not intend to remain long 
 in New York." 
 
 " I shall stay till next spring, unless my money 
 gives out," said the practical young woman by 
 his side. " And if I can scrape together enough 
 money I shall go on indefinitely. 
 
 " That will settle his mind," thought Nan, 
 wickedly. 
 
 " I regret," said Mr. Bamford, speaking slowly,
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 33 
 
 " that you are to add to the long list of young 
 women who are rushing to our large cities. Many 
 are sure to meet with disappointment, for all can't 
 succeed." 
 
 Nan bit her lip, but made no reply. The pro- 
 fessor flicked a fly from the horse, and went on, 
 " And if they do succeed, what then ? " 
 
 " Why, success, of course," replied Nan, flip- 
 pantly. 
 
 " Success, as I understand it, is a hollow thing. 
 The women who are wearing out heart and brain 
 and nerve in this mad struggle for success might 
 rather be in the home of some good, honest man, 
 fulfilling the offices God made them for." 
 
 " Mem.," thought Nan, " ' never use a preposi- 
 tion to end a sentence with.' ' 
 
 " You are very sure what God made women 
 for," Nan said aloud, smiling a little. " I am not 
 so sure. I think that people lay our lives out for 
 us. How would you like to have your life laid 
 out for you after a cut-and-dried plan ? No man 
 would stand it, and I fail to see why women 
 should." 
 
 " They don't ; more's the pity. There is some- 
 thing in the air, a revolt from the good old ways 
 of our mothers and grandmothers, and the foun- 
 dations of society are shaken. I have no idea 
 whether you will be successful or not, Miss Annice, 
 but I cannot find it in my heart to hope that you 
 will succeed. Perhaps you can guess why. It 
 3
 
 34 Annice Wynkoop, Artist* 
 
 may be a selfish reason, but I am not the first 
 man to harbor selfishness of this kind." 
 
 " Please, Mr. Bamford, don't propose to me. I 
 want to be able to say that I never refused 
 you." 
 
 " The easiest thing in the world to do. Accept 
 me." 
 
 " Don't pretend to misunderstand me. I want 
 to be able to say that you have never proposed 
 to me. You haven't yet, you know, so please 
 stop," Nan repeated lamely. 
 
 " I won't ask you to marry me, now, Annice, 
 but when the art fails please remember that there 
 is a place for you in my heart, in my home. No 
 one else can fill it, even though the art is so suc- 
 cessful that you never give a thought to the 
 lonely man who " 
 
 " Mr. Bamford, I asked you not to go on. I 
 think it is a shame to spoil my last view of these 
 hills. You croak like a raven and wish me bad 
 luck, and then tell me if I can't make a success of 
 art to come back and wear aprons and make 
 puddings. I may as we'll tell you that I hate to 
 make puddings and I never wear aprons except 
 painting aprons, and there are no strings to those. 
 I was afraid you would say things, and we would 
 have an unpleasant time, and we have had it. 
 Now please talk of something else. Do you 
 see that woodbine over there, flung against the 
 dark green of that tree ? "
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 35 
 
 " I see," said the schoolmaster absently. 
 " Annice, tell me, if you were to find out that you 
 have no talent for painting would you keep on, 
 just to " 
 
 "But I have talent. I don't, for a moment, 
 doubt it. I know that I can paint, just as you 
 know that you can solve difficult problems in 
 mathematics. I am not a child. Besides, those 
 artists at the summer school last summer saw 
 much promise in my work. Miss Frost ought to 
 know what she is talking about, and she has been 
 the means of my going to the city to study. I 
 feel called ; I have no right to neglect a gift, 
 when I feel so about it." 
 
 " You are too young a girl to be away from 
 your mother." 
 
 " I have common sense, and I dare say I can 
 be trusted to behave myself." 
 
 " Where do you intend to live ? Have you 
 relatives in the city? " 
 
 " No. Since you insist on knowing, I will tell 
 you all that I know. Miss Frost has engaged a 
 boarding-place for me, and she will meet me at 
 the station. So I think I shall be safe." 
 
 "You will write to me, Annice? " 
 
 " No ; I prefer not to write. I dislike letter- 
 writing, and I shall be exceedingly busy. This 
 is life or death to me, Mr. Bamford, and I must 
 put my whole mind on my work. You will come 
 to see me next summer and I will show you how
 
 36 Annlce Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 much my painting has improved, and one of these 
 days, I hope, you will bring Mrs. Bamford to see 
 me." 
 
 Nan dared this much, because they had stopped 
 before the house. He couldn't say anything 
 then. But the professor gave her as good as he 
 took. 
 
 " I shall never introduce Mrs. Bamford to you, 
 Annice. I have a conviction that you will yet 
 bear that name. I can wait. I never yet set my 
 heart on anything that I did not get it, and I 
 have set my heart on you, Nan Wynkoop." 
 
 Mr. Bamford had helped her from the buggy, 
 and was prolonging the process of shaking hands 
 as long as possible. " I hope you will keep well," 
 he said stiffly, as he dropped her hand. 
 
 " Wish me success," said Nan, her eyes danc- 
 ing. 
 
 " No ; I will not say more than I feel. And 
 since I have given bonds to keep the peace I 
 may not say all I feel." And the schoolmaster 
 gave his ex-pupil a searching look, which made 
 her color rise for the first time that afternoon. 
 
 " Good-by," she said gaily. " You will see 
 the day that you will tell your pupils that one of 
 the most giddy girls that ever came to school to 
 you is a great portrait painter." And Nan van- 
 ished into the house. 
 
 Supper was waiting, and Nan ate her share of 
 it with a keen relish after her ride over the hills.
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 37 
 
 Once or twice during the meal her eyes were 
 dewy as she realized that in a week from that 
 time she would be gone, but she could not 
 be unhappy. Her wings were beating against 
 her narrow cage, and she was impatient to try 
 them.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 NAN was met at the Grand Central station by 
 Miss Frost and another lady. Miss Frost seemed 
 very glad to see Nan, and she introduced her to 
 Miss Dunning as a most promising creature whom 
 she had discovered. The two ladies had just 
 come from a water-color exhibition, and they 
 talked all the way downtown about the pictures, 
 so Nan had nothing to divert her from the home- 
 sick feeling which was stealing over her. She 
 was tired after her journey, and she longed to 
 get into her own room and rest. She wondered 
 what the room would be like. It must be small, 
 of course, for she was to pay very little for it, 
 but no matter how small it was it would be her 
 own, and she would soon make it seem home- 
 like with her own things. 
 
 " We get out here," said Miss Frost, " it is only 
 a tiny walk to your boarding-place. I hope you 
 will like the arrangements I have made." 
 
 A rather grim-looking maid opened the door of 
 an old-fashioned house in answer to Miss Frost's 
 ring. The parlor was a long room, fairly well 
 furnished. In a conspicuous place on the wall 
 was a framed notice, which called attention to 
 
 38
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 39 
 
 the fact that the inmates of this house were ex- 
 pected to conduct themselves in a quiet and lady- 
 like manner. The maid came back in a moment 
 and told Nan that her room was ready, and Miss 
 Frost went up with her. The maid tapped at 
 the door of a front room on the third floor. 
 " Come in," said a voice, and the ladies followed 
 her in. It was a large room, as large as the par- 
 lor below, and it was well that it was large, for it 
 contained four beds, four washstands, a large 
 table, and a number of chairs. 
 
 " This is your corner," said the maid, pointing to 
 one of the little white beds. " This is your wash- 
 stand, and I will show you where to hang your 
 clothes. You'll have to unpack your things in 
 the hall; trunks are not allowed in the rooms." 
 
 When the maid went out Nan turned to Miss 
 Frost. " There must be some mistake ; there 
 are four beds here, and I thought I was to have 
 a room alone. I never dreamed, why, I must 
 have a room alone." 
 
 " My dear child, I thought of course that you 
 understood that at the price I named you would 
 have to be satisfied with board in one of these 
 houses. Christian Homes, they are called, and 
 they are perfectly respectable. Indeed, you will 
 find some very fine women here, art students, 
 like yourself, medical students, and teachers." 
 
 " It doesn't seem that I can stand it," said Nan, 
 her voice quivering. " If I had known "
 
 4O Annicc Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 " If you had known you would not have at- 
 tempted to study art, you were going to say. 
 Nonsense. You would have made the mistake of 
 your life. I began just this way when I first 
 studied, and I lived through it. Try it a while, 
 and if you really find that you can't stand it I 
 will see what can be done. For the price you 
 pay here you can't get a room alone. Six dollars 
 a week would be the least, and that would mean 
 a hall room and no fire. Here you have fire, 
 though I suppose you don't care to consider that 
 inducement on such a warm evening. Now I 
 must go. I want you to come to a tea at my 
 studio to-morrow. I'll show you so many artis- 
 tic people that you will be in love with New 
 York. Good-by, then, till to-morrow." 
 
 A bell clashed in the hall below before Nan had 
 finished washing her face and hands at the wash- 
 stand that was said to be hers. A middle-aged 
 woman had been in the room all the time, and 
 now two more women came in. Nan was too heart- 
 sick to care how many came, and they did not 
 seem to mind her in the least. They gave her 
 good evening, and one of them asked her pleas- 
 antly if she had just come to the city. The 
 middle-aged woman, whom the others called Miss 
 Tarbell, asked Nan if she was ready, and offered to 
 show her the way to the dining-room. Nan 
 thanked her and followed her downstairs till they 
 reached the basement. They went through a long,
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 41 
 
 dark hall, piled high with trunks. Nan wondered 
 if hers must go there too, and how she would 
 ever get into it. 
 
 The tables were rilled already, and the maids 
 were dispensing soup. As she drank her soup 
 Nan realized that she was hungry. The dinner 
 consisted of boiled mutton, boiled potatoes, 
 stewed tomatoes, with bread pudding and coffee 
 for dessert. " I shouldn't have had any more at 
 home," thought Nan. " I shouldn't have had so 
 much, for we don't have soup every day, but 
 everything would have been so different." 
 
 Most of the boarders ate their dinners with 
 evident relish, though some complained that the 
 mutton was tough, or the potatoes soggy. Some 
 of the ladies had dressed for dinner, but most of 
 them were just as they came from work. Nan 
 tried to count them, and then fell to wondering 
 what they all did " for their livings." Before the 
 bread pudding was served she had a fair idea of 
 the girls who sat near her, for they all talked 
 " shop." Two medical students discussed a 
 "subject" which they had dissected that day, 
 with total disregard for the feelings of their neigh- 
 bors. A young girl, evidently an art student, 
 told that she had had a perfectly horrid criticism 
 that afternoon. Another girl, with a sallow com- 
 plexion, complained in loud tones of her indiges- 
 tion, and the medical student in her last year 
 prescribed for her. A sweet-faced woman, whom
 
 42 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 Nan guessed to be a Christian Scientist, reproved 
 her for admitting that she was not altogether 
 well, thereby calling down on herself much good- 
 natured banter. The public school teacher, who 
 was one of Nan's room-mates, gave a detailed ac- 
 count of the visit of an objectionable special 
 teacher, and was promptly silenced by her left- 
 hand neighbor, who told her that no matter what 
 her woes were, she had her Saturdays and a long 
 vacation every summer, and asked her how she 
 would like to click away at a typewriter forty- 
 nine weeks in the year. 
 
 " There, they are at it again," said the girl next 
 to Nan. " They are always having that over. I 
 wish they would keep still. We all work hard 
 enough all day, and it is a shame to have the 
 troubles of the day over at dinner. What do you 
 do?" 
 
 Nan was surprised for a moment. It was not 
 long before it seemed quite the natural thing to 
 ask what a girl did. 
 
 " I don't do anything," she stammered. " I am, 
 that is, I am going to study art." 
 
 " Where ? At the League ? " 
 
 " No ; at Cooper." 
 
 "That girl in the pink waist studies at the 
 League. She does water color, and it is all one 
 can hear from morning till night. She is in the 
 room with me, so I am a victim. I came here to 
 study art, but I soon gave it up."
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 43 
 
 "Why? Didn't you have talent ?" 
 
 "Yes, as much as the average art student, but 
 I found that art was very long and my funds 
 were very short. I was considered a marvel in 
 Petoskey. You don't know where Petoskey is? 
 It is in Michigan, and my pictures were praised 
 in the papers. After I came here I found what 
 they were worth. I went to an art school and 
 they set me to drawing from the cast. That is 
 the first thing you do. You draw from the block 
 till you have nothing left to live on, then you 
 draw from the round. I didn't know how to draw 
 at all ; I had wasted my time drawing from the flat, 
 copying pictures, you know, and it really was worse 
 than doing nothing. I saw it would take years of 
 work to begin to do anything, so I gave the whole 
 thing up. I felt that the world had nothing left 
 for me, but I have managed to get along very 
 comfortably without art. I have money enough 
 to live on, and that is more than I would have 
 had if I had gone on with art." 
 
 " What is your business, if you don't mind my 
 asking." 
 
 " Of course I don't. I am a bookkeeper. I 
 learned in one winter, and I got a position right 
 away. I have just come back from my vacation, 
 and I came here for a few days, till I could find 
 another boarding place. I shan't stay here long. 
 What do you think of it ? You needn't say ; I 
 have been watching you, and I know you think
 
 44 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 it is dreadful. It is. If you can afford it go 
 somewhere else. Don't stay in a C. H. unless 
 you must." 
 
 "A C. H?" repeated Nan. 
 
 " Short for Christian Home. This is one ; but 
 of course you know. They all are run by some 
 church or some organization, but you may depend 
 that they don't lose anything by their philan- 
 thropy. They all are pretty much of a muchness ; 
 this one is the best, so far as the table is con- 
 cerned. But we must go. Everyone else has 
 gone, and the waitress is looking daggers at us. 
 
 " What room are you in ? O yes ; third floor 
 front. Miss Tarbell is there, and Miss Stearns 
 and Miss Jennings. Miss Tarbell is principal of 
 one of the schools, and her salary is $1,750 a year. 
 Whatever she boards here for I don't know. 
 Miss Stearns is a stenographer, and Miss Jen- 
 nings is I don't know what. Sometimes she 
 ' book agents ' ; and sometimes she makes crayon 
 portraits. She is quite a study." 
 
 " Are there four girls in every room ? " Nan 
 asked. 
 
 " No ; sometimes there are more. In the room 
 over the back parlor there are five girls ; and this 
 room, mind you, has no outside window, but it 
 opens into an extension where there are two more 
 girls. Don't look so shocked ; they are very nice 
 girls. Two of the five are medical students, one 
 is an artist, one does drawing for a fashion mag-
 
 Annie e Wynkoop, Artist. 45 
 
 azine, and the other is studying stenography. In 
 the extension is another medical student and a 
 city missionary. I wonder that the board of 
 health isn't after that room, though none of the 
 girls seem sickly. The very idea of people being 
 huddled together like that is immoral. The world 
 is big enough for every one to have a place of her 
 own, and I believe the Lord meant it so when He 
 made such a big world." 
 
 "Are there no smaller rooms where there are 
 fewer girls?" 
 
 " Yes ; a few rooms have partitions through 
 them, and there are two girls on each side of the 
 partition. But those rooms are always snapped 
 right up ; everybody wants one. There are hall- 
 rooms, with two girls in each one. That is really 
 worse than four in a large one." 
 
 Nan and her new acquaintance had gradually 
 climbed the stairs as they talked, and now they 
 halted before Nan's door. 
 
 " I hope you won't be very lonely. Let me 
 know if I can do anything for you. What did 
 you say your name is ? I am Miss Jamieson. 
 Good night." 
 
 Nan opened the door of the room where her 
 bed was ; she felt that she could not, even in her 
 thoughts, call it her room. All of her room-mates 
 were in ; Miss Stearns sat by the lamp, trimming 
 a hat, Miss Jennings was reading, and Miss Tar- 
 bell sat in the big rocking-chair, doing nothing.
 
 46 Annice Wynkoop^ Artist. 
 
 Nan took from her bag some note-paper and her 
 fountain-pen, Harriet's gift, and sat down to write 
 home. She had no more than dated her letter, 
 when some one rapped at the door. It was a 
 maid, who said that Nan's trunk had come, and 
 she must unpack it that night, for it must be car- 
 ried down to the basement before breakfast. 
 
 Nan was too tired to move, but she went down 
 and unpacked her dresses and a few other things 
 which she was likely to need during the next few 
 days. She would not take out everything, for 
 she did not mean to stay. After three or four 
 trips, she hung her dresses in the wardrobe, and 
 put her other belongings in her bureau. Then 
 she took up her pen again, and wrote rapidly, in 
 a clear, bold hand, the library hand she had learned 
 from Harriet. 
 
 " My Dear, Dear People, 
 
 " I am in New York, safe and 
 sound, but I am in a big room with three other 
 women, and we all are expected to sleep, wash, 
 dress, and sit together. In some rooms there are 
 five women, instead of four. I feel as if I were 
 some one else, and not Nan Wynkoop at all. This 
 is what Miss Frost meant when she wrote that I 
 could get board for four dollars a week. She 
 supposed that I understood all about it. It's 
 simply awful. The girls all seem nice, but think 
 of it, four people all huddled up together !
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 47 
 
 " There were at least seven thousand women 
 in the dining-room to-night, all gabbling about 
 art and medicine and type-writers and sewing- 
 machines. The medical students talk about their 
 dissecting, and one of them who sat near me 
 smelled of carbolic. Horrible ! I know I shall 
 die. I would rather teach school, and that I al- 
 ways considered the last hope." 
 
 Nan suddenly stopped writing, and read her 
 letter over. Then she tore it into bits, and wrote 
 another one. 
 
 " My Dear People, 
 
 " I reached New York safely. 
 Nothing happened on the journey, and Miss 
 Frost met me and came down to the boarding- 
 house with me. My quarters are comfortable, 
 literally, my quarter, thought poor Nan, and I 
 think the house quite as good as I can expect 
 for the price I pay. My trunk has come, and I 
 have unpacked some of my things. I will write 
 more on Monday, after I have been to the art 
 school. All write very soon, please. Love to 
 everybody. 
 
 " NAN." 
 
 Nan did not close her eyes till long after mid- 
 night. When she was very sure that everybody 
 was asleep, she had a good cry with her head well 
 under the bed-clothes. Home seemed as far away
 
 48 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 as if in another world. She could not believe 
 that she was the same girl who had talked to Mr. 
 Bamford on the sphere of women, and who had 
 declared herself ready to suffer anything for art's 
 sake.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 NAN was in the midst of a delightful dream 
 about home when she was awakened by Miss 
 Jennings, who was giving a graphic description 
 of a new gown she was having made. Everything 
 came back to Nan in an instant ; she was not in 
 her little green and white nest, but in the big, 
 bare room, with three other women. All were 
 up, and more or less ready for breakfast. Nan lay 
 still, thinking she would not rise till the others 
 had gone down to breakfast. 
 
 But Miss Tarbell spoke. " Miss Wynkoop, you 
 would better get up. If you are not down at the 
 stated time the dining-room door will be locked, 
 and the unfortunate young woman who is late 
 may beat upon that door till she is tired ; Martha 
 never opens it." 
 
 " Thank you," said Nan, and she at once began 
 her toilet. 
 
 Many of the young women ate breakfast with 
 their hats on. They seemed in a great hurry, 
 and one or two who were not waited on at once 
 went to business without any breakfast. Three- 
 fourths of the boarders went into the kitchen 
 after breakfast, and brought out a bag which con- 
 4 49
 
 50 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 tained luncheon. Nan watched one girl examine 
 hers. It proved to be a sandwich, a banana, and 
 two ginger-snaps. 
 
 " Must every one carry luncheons ? " Nan 
 asked of her neighbor with whom she had talked 
 the evening before. 
 
 "No; some of the girls come home. Those 
 who work too far away to come home at noon 
 carry their luncheons. How do you think you 
 are going to like it ? Not the lunch, but the C. 
 H.?" 
 
 Nan shook her head. " I shall not stay. I am 
 going out this very morning to look for a room. 
 I can't stand being all huddled up together. I 
 feel like an orphan asylum or something." 
 
 " You can't find anything else at this price, I'll 
 tell you that before you look. Still, you can get 
 a hall-room quite cheap. I'll go with you if you 
 wait till afternoon. I have a half holiday." 
 
 " I should like to have you go with me, but I 
 can't go this afternoon. I am going to Miss 
 Frost's to a studio tea, and I don't want to be tired 
 before I go. So I think I will start out alone 
 right after breakfast." 
 
 " Is your Miss Frost the Jessica Frost who 
 paints flowers so wonderfully ? She is really quite 
 distinguished." 
 
 " I suppose she is the one ; her name is Jes- 
 sica." 
 
 " You are in great luck to know her. She is a
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 51 
 
 great swell, and the girls are wild to get invited 
 to her studio. I mean the girls who paint or 
 think they can." 
 
 " I know Miss Frost very well. She had a 
 summer class near my home, and I painted with 
 her. It was she who encouraged me to come to 
 New York." 
 
 " You'll be on your feet in no time if you are 
 in with any well-known people. You would better 
 look up a good boarding place. If you have a 
 good address, no matter if your room is on the 
 fifth floor, and a good gown or two, you'll get 
 along." 
 
 " I am not counting on anything but hard work," 
 said Nan, " so it doesn't matter where I live, ex- 
 cept for my own comfort. I don't expect to know 
 anybody." 
 
 " I imagine you will, and if you have the chance 
 of any good times, take them ; you will do all the 
 better with your work for having a little fun. 
 I'll look over the morning paper, if I can get my 
 hands on it, and mark some advertisements for 
 boarders. I know nearly all the boarding-houses 
 around here. I'll give you a hint ; don't go to 
 any house where there is a folding-bed in the 
 parlor." 
 
 " A folding-bed ? I beg pardon for repeating 
 your words, but why should anyone have a fold- 
 ing-bed in the parlor ? " 
 
 " To sleep in, of course. Keep a sharp lookout,
 
 52 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 if you are not used to these inventions, for they 
 are in all forms, cabinets, desks, sideboards, 
 pianos, etc. You don't want to get in a house 
 where there is one of these things in the parlor, 
 and where the landlady comes in when you have 
 company, and looks daggers at you, because she 
 wants to put some one to bed in the folding- 
 bed." 
 
 " I never saw a folding-bed in my life." 
 
 "You will, if you stay in New York. I have 
 slept in every kind that ever was invented. I 
 know I shall be killed by one yet, for I have had 
 them go up with me, and fall down with me, to 
 say nothing of having my back broken with spring- 
 less ones. Here is the paper ; I'll mark some ads 
 for you." 
 
 Nan copied the numbers, and soon after break- 
 fast started out on her search. She went bravely 
 from house to house, but in every case the answer 
 was the same, there were no hall-rooms to be had. 
 Landladies explained that vacations were over, 
 and people had come back from the country, so 
 the hall-rooms were eagerly snapped up. 
 
 One of the houses was for furnished rooms only. 
 The landlady was very agreeable, and she showed 
 Nan a room which she said was just what she 
 wanted. Nan was by no means sure of that ; she 
 had no idea of a place where she could not have 
 her meals. 
 
 " You won't mind that," the landlady replied ;
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 53 
 
 " you won't want three meals a day. You can 
 have a gas stove and get you an egg about eleven 
 o'clock, and you can go out to your dinner about 
 four. Lots of my roomers manage that way." 
 
 Nan at last got away from the woman ; even 
 the prospect of getting an egg for herself had no 
 charms for her. 
 
 The next house she tried had no single rooms, 
 but this landlady had a double room. There was 
 a young lady in it now, but she couldn't afford to 
 keep it alone, and wanted a room-mate. 
 
 " I am quite sure that I shouldn't care for it," 
 said Nan, rising. If there was anything that she 
 didn't want, it was a room-mate, poor child. 
 
 " She is a very nice girl. I am sure you two 
 would be congenial," the woman went on. " She 
 is a lovely girl, and she is a saleslady at Macy's." 
 
 There was nothing to be done, Nan realized 
 this, and she went home to a lunch of cold mut- 
 ton, bread and butter, tea, and stewed prunes, 
 feeling very much discouraged. She would stay 
 where she was for a while, and if she couldn't 
 stand it, she would pay more for her board and 
 be in New York a shorter time than she had 
 expected. 
 
 All the room-mates were out when she went up- 
 stairs, and she threw herself on her bed and con- 
 gratulated herself. 
 
 " The room looks like a hospital, or I suppose 
 it does ; I never saw a hospital." She looked
 
 54 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 about her more closely than she had had time to 
 do before. Each corner was devoted to the lares 
 and penates of its occupant, and the effect of 
 the whole was highly striking. Miss Stearns had 
 churchly-looking calendars and a little row of 
 devotional books in her corner, with pictures of 
 a saint or two. Miss Jennings was collecting 
 posters, and had her wall completely covered 
 with them. The school-teacher's corner boasted 
 a desk, with a row of pedagogical books and 
 teachers' periodicals on top. A picture of 
 " Pestalozzi Taking Leave of his Orphans at 
 Stanz," and a portrait of Froebel, hung over the 
 desk. Nan had heard of Pestalozzi and Froebel 
 at a teachers' institute which she attended, which 
 was the precise period in her life when she de- 
 cided that she did not want to teach school. 
 
 Nan's corner was bare of decoration. She had 
 left her treasures in the bottom of her trunk, and 
 the trunk was piled on six others in the base- 
 ment. If she ever could find a little room where 
 she could be alone, she would put her things up, 
 her Winged Victory, her Venus di Milo, her 
 sketches, and her books. Till then she would 
 get along with her toilet articles, and forget that 
 she had the familiar things in the basement. 
 What would the art school be like, and would 
 people think she had talent. Her thoughts were 
 becoming hazy, and in a few moments she was 
 fast asleep.
 
 Annie e Wynkoop, Artist. 55 
 
 When she awoke she was surprised to find how 
 late it was. Miss Tarbell had come in. She had 
 been shopping, and she was very warm. She put 
 on a light wrapper and brewed herself some 
 lemonade. 
 
 Nan was refreshed by her nap, and she began 
 dressing for her visit to Miss Frost. At home 
 she would have worn a white dress and a ribbon 
 collar and belt, but instinct told her that the 
 white dress would not be suitable now. She 
 took out her summer dress of light gray, and the 
 pretty straw hat which matched it. Emma Anna 
 had sent " the youngest" out in the world with 
 a few well-made gowns. Nan was glad now that 
 she had them, though she had hated to appro- 
 priate any of her little hoard to dress. 
 
 She wore her clothes well, having that indes- 
 cribable, though much-to-be-desired quality known 
 as style, and she looked very sweet and attrac- 
 tive when she went up to speak to her hostess. 
 
 " O Annice, I am so glad you are here. You 
 look as fresh as a rose. I want you to meet all 
 of these people. Miss Dunning you saw yes- 
 terday. Come here, Mr. Allison, I want to in- 
 troduce you to my friend Miss Wynkoop. I 
 want it distinctly understood that I discovered 
 Miss Wynkoop." 
 
 Mr. Allison, who was a big man with a big 
 voice, said polite things, and Nan felt very small 
 and young. She heard names which she had
 
 56 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 seen in art criticisms, and found that their owners 
 looked and acted quite like ordinary people. 
 They did not wear long hair, nor did they wear 
 paint-smeared blouses, as the artists did in story 
 books of a generation ago. 
 
 As Kan sat on a couch talking with a mild- 
 looking young woman who was asking her if she 
 were homesick, she heard a girl directly behind 
 her say, "Ask her. It can't do any harm to ask, 
 and there isn't any hair like it in New York, per- 
 haps not on this continent. If you don't I will, 
 but you thought of it first, so you may have the 
 first asking." 
 
 Nan could not help wondering who had this 
 wonderful hair, and she was looking around the 
 room, trying to discover it, when a man came 
 up to her, and said abruptly, " Will you let me 
 paint your hair ? " 
 
 Nan felt her color rising, she was so surprised. 
 " I don't know," she stammered. 
 
 " Please think about it and let me know. Re- 
 member, I am to have the first chance if you let 
 anyone paint it." 
 
 He turned away awkwardly, and the girl who 
 had come up behind him, explained to Nan. 
 " Really, you mustn't mind Mr. Parrish's manner, 
 or the lack of it, whatever you prefer to call it. 
 Me always is as abrupt as he was just now, but 
 people don't mind him when they know him. 
 He wants to paint your hair and keep it, the
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 57 
 
 painting, not the hair, for future use. He 
 didn't mean to ask you to let him paint your 
 portrait. I encouraged him to ask you about 
 your hair, but I didn't mean that he should scare 
 you to death. I'll go with you to chaperon 
 you, or get my old-maid sister to go, if you pre- 
 fer. Or, if you like, Mr. Parrish can paint in my 
 studio. We are great friends, though we fight 
 dreadfully sometimes. He is an impressionist, 
 and I could eat them. Mr. Allison, that big 
 black-aviced man, is another impressionist, though 
 he won't own it. You'll like us very well after 
 you get used to us. Don't forget you are wel* 
 come to use my studio when Mr. Parrish paints 
 you." 
 
 Nan thanked her and repeated that she would 
 think about it. The girl, whose name Nan had 
 not caught, but whom she afterward knew as 
 Miss Henshawe, sat down beside her, and began 
 to ply her with questions which she interspersed 
 with compliments. Nan was not used to that 
 sort of thing, and she changed the subject by 
 asking Miss Henshwe with whom she studied. 
 
 " I am not studying, I am out for myself. I 
 am painting miniatures for dear life. They are 
 all the rage now, and I believe in making hay 
 while the sun shines. And that brings me to the 
 point I wanted to make. Will you let me paint 
 your miniature? " Nan gasped. She looked 
 around the room and began to wonder if all
 
 5 8 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 those people would come and ask her to sit for 
 them. 
 
 " I can't promise," she said. " I shall be very 
 busy, and I may have no time to spare." 
 
 " Try to find time ; you would make such a 
 lovely miniature." 
 
 Nan frowned. " I wish she would go," she 
 thought. " I don't want to be rude, but I am 
 getting very tired of this." 
 
 " You don't like me to tell you that you are 
 very nice looking? I don't see why you should 
 mind. It is no credit to you. I always tell 
 people if I think they are handsome. I should 
 be very glad if I were good-looking, to be told of 
 it. Do you know, I predict that we shall be 
 great friends. You look surprised. I don't take 
 a fancy to one girl in a hundred, but I liked you 
 at once. Where do you study? " 
 
 " I am going to study at Cooper. I begin 
 Monday." 
 
 "Why not at the League? I studied there, 
 and I should like you to study where I did." 
 
 " I have so little money that I must stretch it 
 as far as possible, so I am very glad to get into a 
 free class," said Nan frankly. 
 
 "What do you do, what is your line?" 
 
 " I have done a little of everything, so far, but 
 I mean to make a business of portraits. That is 
 all that I really care for." 
 
 " Do you know, I guessed that you liked por-
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 59' 
 
 trait better than anything else. We are agreed 
 on that. I am so anxious to see some of your 
 work.. Where do you live ? I shall call on you." 
 
 Nan told her, and murmured that she would be 
 glad to see her. She had to admit that Miss 
 Henshawe was very pleasant, and she should be 
 glad of her proffered friendship. Only she wished 
 that she wouldn't gush so. 
 
 " When I began at art," Miss Henshawe was 
 saying, in a retrospective tone, " I did black and 
 white work. I fancied that I wanted to be an il- 
 lustrator, don't you know. But I have dropped 
 that entirely." 
 
 " I have worked at pen and ink a good deal, all 
 alone, though ; I have had no teaching," said Nan. 
 " I thought perhaps I would study illustrating 
 this year. I understand that one can always get 
 illustrating to do. I really have had consider- 
 able encouragement about my pen and ink work, 
 for I sent some things to an editor, and he 
 praised them, and advised me to go on. Perhaps 
 I would be able to take care of myself much 
 sooner if I studied black and white than if I 
 studied portraits. But I love to paint faces." 
 
 " Oh, stick to your portraits. It is a pity you 
 have black and white in your head, for if you 
 do much of it you will lose your eye for color. 
 That is what many of the illustrators say, don't 
 they, Mr. Danforth?" 
 
 And Miss Henshawe swooped down on a man
 
 60 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 who was passing, and drew him into the conver- 
 sation. 
 
 " Of course I agree with you, Miss Henshawe. 
 I always do, but I didn't catch your question." 
 
 " Don't you lose your sense of color in making 
 your marvelous black and white work?" 
 
 While they were absorbed in this question, 
 Nan took the opportunity to run away. Miss 
 Frost came over to her. " How are you enjoying 
 my lions? Have you had any tea? What a 
 shame ! Clara Henshawe has talked you tired, 
 and kept you from getting any tea." 
 
 A young lady was pouring tea at a table behind 
 some palms, and presently Mr. Parrish brought 
 Nan a cup, and offered her thin bread-and-butter 
 and tiny cakes. Miss Frost sent him for some 
 tea for herself, and then graciously dismissed 
 him. 
 
 " He always makes me nervous," she explained 
 to Nan. " And I don't intend that he shall bore 
 you with his views on art this afternoon. Now I 
 want you to meet that elderly lady, Miss Knowles ; 
 she isn't artistic, and that will be a relief to you 
 after Clara Henshawe." 
 
 Nan had a pleasant chat with Miss Knowles, 
 who seemed to have no object in life but to be 
 agreeable to homesick )^oung art students. Nan 
 found herself wondering what she "did," and 
 concluded that she did nothing. She was quite 
 surprised a few moments later, to find that she
 
 Miss Frost showed Nan her pictures and talked art with all her heart.- 
 Page 61. Annice Wynkoop,
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 61 
 
 was a newspaper woman, and that Miss Frost's 
 tea would find its way into the morning paper 
 with which Miss Knowles was connected. As 
 Nan confessed later to Miss Frost, she had 
 always supposed that newspaper women wore un- 
 becoming hats, and had the braid half off their 
 skirts. She did not know that Miss Knowles 
 wore a Redfern gown, but she realized that she 
 was the best dressed woman in the room. 
 
 All at once a hush fell on the room. Miss 
 
 was going to sing. Nan did not catch the name, 
 but she guessed that the singer was a lioness. 
 She sang something in Italian, which Nan did 
 not understand at all, but other people seemed 
 to, by the way they applauded. Next she sang 
 a lullaby, then a couple of Scotch ballads. Nan 
 fully appreciated these, and she was sorry when 
 she finished. 
 
 Nan remained to dine with Miss Frost, at her 
 urgent invitation. It was very pleasant for the 
 homesick girl. The appetizing little dinner was 
 sent in from a restaurant, and Miss Frost's one 
 maid arranged the table in the cosy little dining- 
 room. Nan ate the first good meal since she had 
 left home. 
 
 After dinner they sat in the studio, and Miss 
 Frost showed Nan her pictures and talked art 
 with all her heart. There was something about 
 this young girl which aroused all the enthusiasm 
 of the older woman. Nan felt her hopes rising.
 
 6? Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 Success was worth working for, even if one had 
 to live with four room-mates. 
 
 At nine o'clock she said she must go, and Miss 
 Frost went with her. They strolled along, and 
 before they realized it they were at Madison 
 Square. 
 
 " Isn't it beautiful ? " said Nan, " the lights, and 
 the shadows on the leaves. The city is prettier 
 by night than by day." 
 
 " I love this town," said Miss Frost. " I get 
 tired of my work, and worn out with all the din and 
 roar, and I wish myself far away, in some country 
 place. But I know I should come back. Every 
 one comes back, it is like fate ; after one has been 
 here a certain length of time one can't stay away. 
 I try to discourage people, especially women ; and 
 I tell them not to come. But they keep coming, 
 till the wonder is that there are any girls left in 
 the smaller towns." 
 
 " You didn't discourage me, you advised me to 
 come." 
 
 " I know I did. There was a look in your eyes 
 that told me you would starve if you lived the 
 quiet life of your sisters. You may be willing to 
 go back to it after a while, but I felt that you 
 must taste the artist's life. You will find it a very 
 rich life, and you will be happy despite hard 
 work and scanty means. Enjoy your work, but 
 don't overdo. You won't gain anything by dis- 
 regarding your health. I wish you could find a
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 63 
 
 better boarding-place, but I know your resources 
 are limited, and I don't see what you can do." 
 
 " I have just two hundred and sixty dollars," 
 said Nan. " It must last a year. I had three 
 hundred, but I had to have a few clothes, and I 
 had to pay my fare down here." 
 
 " And you bought clothes and paid your fare 
 with forty dollars?" 
 
 " Yes ; we always make one dollar do the work 
 of two. Emma Anna is a great shopper, and she 
 gets a remnant of this and makes a dress, and a 
 remnant of that to trim it with, and of course she 
 did all my sewing. But I can't have any more 
 clothes. I must make this money last till I reach 
 home next summer. I have figured it all out, and 
 I see I shall have to stay in the C. H. But I hate 
 it, and I know I always shall." 
 
 " You won't mind it so much after you are used 
 to it, and you may have real good times with 
 some of the girls. You may be thankful that all 
 the people in your room are permanent ; it would 
 be a good deal worse if they were transients, and 
 you had new ones all the time." 
 
 " Perhaps I can get in a hall-room and have 
 only one room-mate." 
 
 " I shouldn't do it if I were you. You have 
 more cubic space in one-fourth of a large room 
 than you would have in half a hall-room. Then, 
 too, there is the question of heating the room. 
 You'll have to consider that later. In the large
 
 64 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 room you will have heat, and you each will pay 
 twenty-five cents a week extra for it." 
 
 " That will add to my expense. One dollar a 
 month. I hadn't thought of paying extra for fire. 
 I supposed it went with the room." 
 
 " My dear, in New York nothing goes with any- 
 thing. You simply must keep taking out your 
 purse all the time. But stay in the big room ; a 
 hall-room is the abomination of desolation." 
 
 " Miss Jamieson, a girl who sits next me at 
 table, says a great many girls take a small room 
 and board themselves." 
 
 " Let me say don't, again. It is the loneliest, 
 most morbid kind of a life. You would half starve 
 yourself without meaning to, and it is enough to 
 make one crazy to live alone. It really is health- 
 ier to be packed with three other people as you 
 are now. There are no end of queer women in 
 New York who became so by living alone and 
 getting their me-als on an oil or a gas stove. 
 I don't dare be alone, and Miss Powers and I stay 
 together from a missionary spirit. I shall be glad 
 when she comes back, for I fear I shall soon begin 
 talking to myself if I am alone much longer, or 
 adopt a dog, which would be worse." 
 
 They were at Union Square by this time, and 
 they stopped again to watch the flickering shadows 
 on the pavement. 
 
 As they walked on, Miss Frost said, " I am 
 glad you are here, Annice, and I hope I have not
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 65 
 
 frightened you by painting things as they are. It 
 takes a good stout heart to succeed, but the work 
 we have chosen, perhaps I should say the work 
 that has chosen us, is worth doing for the sake of 
 the doing, and often times the results are very 
 satisfactory. Art is not like the professions, which 
 are said to be overcrowded ; there is a place for 
 each one who has a message to give. And no one 
 can do another's work. 
 
 " But here we are, and there is a light in your 
 room. I hope it isn't full of bugs and mosqui- 
 toes and things. They really ought to give you 
 window-screens." 
 
 With which sudden transition from art to prac- 
 tical life, Miss Frost shook hands and said good- 
 night.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 IT was over, that first day at the art school, 
 and Nan was lying on her little bed, wondering 
 if she were glad or sorry that she had set out to 
 be an artist. Art seemed very long, then, poor 
 child, and home very far away. 
 
 She had gone to church twice on Sunday, as 
 was her custom. In the morning Miss Jamieson 
 took her to a grand church, which Nan fancied 
 looked like a cathedral, with vested choir and 
 stained glass, and a great deal of ritual. It had 
 pleased Nan from an artistic standpoint, but she 
 missed the plain little church and the familiar 
 hymns, Harriet at the organ, and Mr. Barn- 
 ford's bass in the choir. She wanted to be there 
 and sit next one of the dear ones, Charlotte or 
 Emma Anna, or, best of all, her mother. She 
 had missed the plain face in the shabby bonnet, 
 and she was thankful that she was able to call it 
 up to her memory. She left the grand church, 
 feeling like one invited to a banquet, where one 
 saw cut-glass and fine* linen, but did not partake 
 of the food. But she afterward learned to love 
 the grand churches, and she soon felt at home in 
 them. 
 
 66
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 67 
 
 In the afternoon she went alone to a quiet 
 little church and joined in the familiar hymns with 
 a shaking voice. She felt more at home than at 
 any time since she had left the little brown house. 
 She would be good, she said to herself, she would 
 do right and work hard and endure hardships. 
 She fell asleep that night under the influence of 
 that mood and slept like a child. In the morn- 
 ing she felt hopeful and uplifted, despite the fact 
 that she had three room-mates. 
 
 But now, as she lay on her bed, she was in the 
 depths. If she had not been too ashamed she 
 would have gone back home. She told herself 
 that she was foolish to think of being an artist, 
 she with no money, and perhaps with no talent. 
 How the big man in the glasses had looked at 
 her best work ! " It might as well have been a 
 patch-work quilt as a picture," she said indig- 
 nantly. She laughed at the idea, and then she 
 felt better. 
 
 Just then a bell in the hall rang three times. 
 Nan had already learned that when a maid rang 
 a bell three times there was a caller for some one 
 on the third floor. This was one of the labor- 
 saving inventions- of the house. The bell kept 
 ringing, and as no one else seemed to be on that 
 floor, Nan went to the stair and asked who was 
 wanted. 
 
 " There's a lady to see Miss Wynkoop. I've 
 nearly rung my hands off. I've got something
 
 68 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 to do besides pulling bells, and it most dinner 
 time." 
 
 " Tell the lady that I'll be down at once," re- 
 plied Nan. Everyone in the house seemed to be 
 afraid of Martha, and Nan dared not say any- 
 thing if she sent her caller away. 
 
 She supposed it was Miss Frost, but she found 
 Miss Henshawe instead. She was examining the 
 placard which called the attention of the visitors 
 to the fact that the boarders were getting fed and 
 sheltered cheaply, and that they were to behave 
 themselves. Miss Henshawe seemed much inter- 
 ested, evidently, for she had her lorgnette up to 
 her eyes as Nan came forward. 
 
 " Oh, I am so glad you are in. I had half a 
 mind to run away. I was frightened at that maid 
 in the hall. How do you stand her? This must 
 be a C. H. I have heard so much about them. 
 But tell me about yourself. How did you get 
 along to-day? I thought I would call at once. 
 These first days are so hard, and I feared you 
 might need cheering up. You haven't been cry- 
 ing, I hope. Your eyes look like it. There, I 
 won't say any more. Minerva is always telling 
 me that I have no tact. I told her about you, 
 and she suggested that you might not want to 
 see a caller so soon, that you might be tired. 
 But I told her that this is just the time when you 
 would need cheering." 
 
 " I am glad you came," said Nan, feeling that
 
 Annie e Wynkoop, Artist. 69 
 
 that much was expected of her. " I didn't have 
 a very good day. I very much doubt that I shall 
 ever learn to paint." 
 
 " I know you will. It is perfectly natural to 
 be discouraged at first. I am simply dying to 
 see some of your work. Why can't I go up to 
 your room and look at your pictures? I want to 
 see your room, too. Do you have a row of little 
 beds like a hospital ? " 
 
 Nan could not very well refuse, so she took her 
 upstairs. The other occupants of the room had 
 not yet come in, so Miss Henshawe examined 
 everything. The calendars and pictures of saints 
 caught her eye. 
 
 "Who has this corner? She must be very 
 high-church. And the posters. What a mix- 
 ture. This corner must belong to a school 
 ma'am ; look at the teachers' magazines. Your 
 corner is bare. Do get your pictures, that's a 
 good child." 
 
 Nan took them out of a drawer, explaining 
 that most of them were in her trunk in the base- 
 ment. Miss Henshawe literally fell upon the 
 sketches. " Why, child, you are a genius. These 
 are simply exquisite. I thought there must be 
 something about you more than your good looks 
 to m:ike Jessica Frost take you up. She freezes 
 out most girls who go to her. Where did you 
 learn to paint like this ? " 
 
 Nan felt very much embarrassed. She did not
 
 70 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 like to think that Miss Henshawe was " making 
 fun of her," but she knew that her pictures were 
 not wonderful. When she came to know Miss 
 Henshawe better, she learned to make allowance 
 for her enthusiasm. 
 
 "There is no doubt about your success," she 
 said, as she put aside the last sketch. " You simply 
 can't help succeeding with your gifts. I didn't 
 dream that you could do half so well. You and 
 I shall be great friends, I feel sure of that, don't 
 you ? " 
 
 Nan politely said that she hoped so. Miss 
 Henshawe laughed. " You and I are very differ- 
 ent, perhaps that is the reason I like you so 
 well. I enthuse about everything. Minerva 
 calls it making a fuss. She says I use up all my en- 
 thusiasm on ordinary occasions, and have nothing 
 left if anything really happens. I want you to 
 meet Minerva. She really is quite a character. 
 We live together in a kind of a picnic fashion in 
 a studio. I simply adore it, but she is in misery. 
 She thinks no one can live respectably unless one 
 has a whole house. We have.that up in Fryeburg, 
 Maine, but as we have nothing else in the world 
 I have to work for my living. We used to have 
 money, and then Minerva was young and she was 
 quite a belle. Then our father lost his money, 
 and he and mother died, and we had only the old 
 house and the garden full of old-fashioned flowers. 
 I studied art a few winters in Boston, then I
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 71 
 
 moved to New York, and dragged poor Minerva 
 with me. She hated to come, but she got it into 
 her head that it wasn't safe nor respectable for 
 me to be here alone." 
 
 " I should think you would be very happy to- 
 gether. I should dearly love to have one of my 
 sisters with me, though Harriet is the only one 
 who would enjoy it. The rest are so set in their 
 way they couldn't make any change." 
 
 11 That is just the word. Minerva is set in her 
 way. She wants to go on forever, doing the same 
 thing in the same way, in the same place. I 
 don't, I like change, and I like life. I'd rather 
 live here as we do in those rooms and go without 
 things, and see something of life, than to be the 
 richest person in some small town. But Minerva 
 misses the flower-garden and the familiar things 
 so, that I sometimes threaten to make her go 
 back. I can see her as she used to walk at dusk 
 in the flower garden. There were those yellow 
 evening primroses along the path, and as her gown 
 brushed against them, their fragrance would come 
 in the windows. She says she can always smell 
 those primroses when she thinks of home. I 
 suppose I am selfish to let her stay with me- 
 Do you like to board ? " Miss Henshawe broke 
 off abruptly. 
 
 " I don't know. I don't like it here, but I shall 
 have to be satisfied. I am glad to be in New 
 York, even if I am not altogether comfortable."
 
 72 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 " I wish we had room enough to take you with 
 us. Perhaps we can take a larger apartment next 
 year. I know I could do my best work if you 
 were with me. You would spur me on to make 
 the best of myself." 
 
 Nan adroitly drew Miss Henshawe back to her 
 studio by asking how long she had been keeping 
 house. 
 
 " Two years. At first we boarded, but I couldn't 
 work. I felt cramped, imprisoned, and I took 
 this studio. There is only the one big room and 
 two small ones. We do everything in the studio, 
 but sleep. Minerva is ashamed of the way we 
 live when someone comes down from Fryeburg- 
 She has more pride than I have. As I said, I 
 took these rooms and moved in. We brought 
 some things down from home, and I picked up a 
 few more. I began to breathe, and I felt that I 
 could work. I enjoy it as much as ever. I am 
 Alexander Selkirk on a small scale. I am ' mon- 
 arch of all I survey, and my right there is none to 
 dispute ! ' 
 
 " Poor Minerva was all at sea at first, while I 
 was so happy. She had been used to a range as 
 big as a house, and she couldn't cook on a gas 
 stove. I actually had to show her how to do 
 things, and she is considered the best cook in 
 Fryeburg. She is doing nicely now, though she 
 mourns for a cellar, arid thinks it disgraceful not 
 to have a barrel of flour. She takes very good
 
 Ann ice Wynkoop, Artist. 73 
 
 care of me, and I hope I shew her that I appre- 
 ciate her. I know she will like you. She doesn't 
 like all of my friends. There is Basil Parrish, for 
 instance, she can't endure him, but she tries to 
 be very nice to him because she doesn't want to. 
 Minerva does the thing she doesn't want to do ; 
 that is characteristic of her." 
 
 " Mr. Parrish ? Is he the man who looks so 
 tired of everything, and who asked if he might 
 paint my hair?" 
 
 "Yes; you don't like him? He really is a very 
 good fellow. I have known him ever since I be- 
 gan to study in Boston. Minerva used to worry 
 because she feared that we liked each other. 
 Fancy being sentimental over Basil Parrish ! Can 
 you imagine such a thing? " 
 
 Nan readily confessed that she could not, and 
 her answer amused Miss Henshawe very much. 
 
 " Minerva, like most old-school people, can't 
 understand the free-and-easy way we professional 
 people have. She thinks if we call each other by 
 our first names and fight over our pictures we 
 must be especially interested. Don't you think 
 that people used to be much more sentimental 
 than they are now?" 
 
 Nan said she didn't know, she had never thought 
 about it. 
 
 "You notice, and you will find that I am right. 
 There is something in the air, I don't know just 
 what it is, but men and women discuss books and
 
 74 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 art, but they don't talk love, unless it is in an 
 impersonal way. Not that I want any man to 
 make love to me. I am wedded to my work. 
 Aren't you wedded to yours ? I am sure you are. 
 Is that the dinner-bell ? I didn't realize that I 
 was staying so long. Did you want to dress, and 
 have I bothered you ? Oh, can't I stay to dinner ? 
 Won't you invite me? I should love to stay and 
 see all these women. It must be great fun." 
 
 Of course Nan asked her to stay, and they went 
 down into the basement. Miss Jamieson saw that 
 Nan had company, and she good-naturedly gave up 
 her place at table. 
 
 Miss Henshawe seemed to enjoy herself quite 
 as much as she expected. She found out the 
 occupations of most of the girls near her before 
 she had finished her soup. Nan was in mortal 
 terror lest her questions would be overheard. 
 
 " Who is the oldish woman opposite, the one 
 who looks like an old-time blue-stocking ? " Miss 
 Henshawe demanded. 
 
 Nan explained that she was a theosophist, and 
 added that she was very nice to her, in the 
 hope that Miss Henshawe would stop staring at 
 her. 
 
 " Oh, yes, theosophy. I've been all through 
 that in Boston. I really had quite an idea of it 
 at one time while I was studying art. I really 
 feel now at times that I must have lived before. 
 I feel that I have done the same things, and said
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 75 
 
 the same things, don't you know, and yet I know 
 that it is impossible, unless I did it in some previous 
 existence." 
 
 The medical student who sat on Nan's left ex- 
 plained that this was caused by the two hemi- 
 spheres of the brain not acting exactly to- 
 gether. 
 
 Miss Henshawe thanked her amiably, and turned 
 her attention to Miss Madison, who asked her if 
 she had ever attended the meetings of the theo- 
 sophical society in New York. Miss Henshawe 
 said she hadn't. The truth was, theosophy was 
 too deep for her, it made her head ache. 
 
 Nan thought it time to turn the conversation 
 into other channels. She saw that the Christian 
 scientist was about to tell Miss Henshawe that she 
 couldn't have the headache, and that the medical 
 student in her last year was opening her mouth 
 to prescribe for the headache, which it was her 
 business to cure. 
 
 So Nan asked Miss Henshawe how long it took 
 to paint a miniature. In a moment she was dis- 
 coursing on miniature painting, and the Christian 
 scientist and the medical students went on with 
 their dinner. 
 
 Miss Henshawe lingered after dinner. She and 
 Nan sat in the parlor, for Nan knew that her room- 
 mates were in. The girls who were studying art 
 came in, and Nan introduced one or two whom 
 she had met. They were pleased to meet Miss
 
 76 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 Henshawe, and they seemed to consider her 
 presence quite a compliment to the house. She 
 answered a number of questions about miniature 
 painting, and good-naturedly offered to give one 
 of the girls a lesson, if she would drop in some day 
 when she had leisure. 
 
 Presently Martha ushered a gentleman into the 
 parlor. " Why Mr. Parrish, " exclaimed Miss 
 Henshawe. " How did you come ? " 
 
 " Miss Minerva sent me after you. She was 
 really worried when I dropped in after dinner. 
 She said you had gone to call on Miss Wynkoop 
 and she couldn't understand why you had not re- 
 turned. She said it was like you to stay to dinner, 
 but she wasn't sure that something hadn't hap- 
 pened to you." 
 
 " Nonsense. I believe you were glad of an ex- 
 cuse to come," said Miss Henshawe. " You 
 thought it would give you an opportunity to call 
 on Miss Wynkoop. I don't see why I shouldn't 
 stay to dinner when she asked me. I've had a 
 beautiful time. Miss Wynkoop and I are the best 
 of friends, only she paints so well that I am fright- 
 fully jealous of her. You ought to see her pic- 
 tures, Basil." 
 
 " I'm simply dying to see them. You won't be 
 so hard-hearted as to refuse, I hope, Miss Wyn- 
 koop." 
 
 Nan politely but firmly refused, and Mr. Parrish 
 rumpled his hair and declared himself in the depths
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 77 
 
 of despair. Nan didn't like him, and she took no 
 particular pains to hide her feelings. 
 
 Miss Minerva's anxiety did not affect either 
 Miss Henshawe or Mr. Parrish, for they stayed 
 till ten o'clock. A good share of the time was 
 spent in quarreling over the relative merits of their 
 studios. Nan couldn't understand a man who 
 made so much of his china and cabinets and rugs, 
 but she concluded that Mr. Parrish must be like 
 the artists she had read of in books. She thanked 
 him formally when he told her he was to have a 
 studio tea shortly, and that he should be most 
 happy if she would come. 
 
 " The little Wynkoop girl doesn't like Mr. Par- 
 rish," he said, as he and Miss Henshawe went 
 down the steps. 
 
 " No wonder," said Miss Henshawe, taking his 
 arm. " She is not blind nor stupid, and your 
 story about Minerva's fright was altogether too 
 slimsy not to be seen through." 
 
 " You are glad she doesn't like me. Perhaps 
 you have been setting her against me." 
 
 " How ridiculous you are. I hope I have some- 
 thing to talk of besides you. You frightened 
 her at Miss Frost's tea, and you are not her style, 
 that is all. She doesn't try very hard to hide 
 her dislikes, and I like her for her frankness. We 
 want that car. It is time we were going home to 
 relieve poor Minerva's anxiety."
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 NAN'S first week at the art school seemed very 
 long. When, at last, Friday afternoon came, she 
 felt that she had been away from home a month, 
 instead of a week. She sat in the big rocking-chair, 
 trying to write a cheerful letter home, when some 
 one rapped at the door. Miss Frost entered in re- 
 sponse to Nan's " Come in." 
 
 She stooped and kissed Nan, then turned her 
 face to the light to see how she looked. 
 
 " I hope you haven't lost any of the roses out 
 of your cheeks. No, not yet. I came right up, I 
 thought you wouldn't mind. Did you think I had 
 deserted you because I haven't been near you all 
 week ? I was called out of town for two days, 
 and since then I have been trying to catch up. 
 How have you been this week, and what do you 
 think of Cooper?" 
 
 " I'm discouraged. Miss Frost, I don't believe 
 I ever will know how to paint. 
 
 Miss Frost made an impatient gesture. " I 
 ought to know whether you can or not. When 
 you say you can't you reflect upon my judg- 
 ment, and that isn't nice of you, Nan." 
 
 78 '
 
 Annie e Wynkoop, Artist. 79 
 
 Nan laughed. She felt more hopeful already. 
 Miss Frost always inspired her. 
 
 "Get on your hat, I am going to take you home 
 with me and keep you all evening. I had to 
 come down town to shop, and I intended to call 
 for you, so I didn't think it necessary to write 
 you." 
 
 " I'm glad to go, but I must change my dress," 
 and Nan put her writing materials away. 
 
 " What are you going to do with your even- 
 ings this winter ? Don't, I beg, read books on 
 art. Don't do any work. Go out to everything 
 that you hear of. There will be a lot of women 
 with hobbies in this house, get acquainted with 
 them, and go out to their meetings, whether they 
 are Christian scientists or spiritualists. They 
 will be sure to ask you to go with them, they are 
 always after the latest comer." 
 
 " There are all kinds of people here," said Nan, 
 letting down a shower of yellow hair. " There 
 are theosophists, and vegetarians, and Christian 
 scientists, and woman suffragists, and ethical 
 culturists, and a lot more who are following some 
 ism. I looked at them last night at dinner, and 
 thought, 
 
 " ' Parthians and Medes, and Elamites, and the 
 dwellers in Mesopotamia, and in Judea, and Cap- 
 padocia, in Pontus and Asia.' 
 
 " There are a lot more of them, and I fear I 
 can't pronounce all the hard words, but you
 
 8o Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 know what I mean. These women are like them, 
 for they all speak in their own tongues ; that is, 
 they talk of their particular hobby." 
 
 Miss Frost laughed. " I can imagine them, 
 I think. I have met most of the types. New 
 York is a regular stamping ground for people 
 with isms. They will amuse you for a while, and 
 it will be a diversion to go out with them. I'll 
 risk their converting you. Some of these women 
 are very nice, if they are queer. Are you ready ? 
 
 " You will meet my brother to-night, I hope," 
 said Miss Frost, as she put her latchkey in her 
 door. " He is such an erratic individual that I 
 am never sure of him. Yes, he is here ; I smell 
 his cigar. My dear Theodore, why didn't you 
 have the gas lighted ? The room is as dark as 
 Egypt. How long have you been here? " 
 
 "An hour or more. I knew you wouldn't 
 let me smoke if you were here, on account of your 
 curtains ; and as for the dark, I am not afraid 
 of it." 
 
 He lighted a match as he spoke, and turned on 
 the gas. 
 
 " By Jove ! " he exclaimed involuntarily, as his 
 eyes fell on Nan. He did not know that anyone 
 was with his sister, and Nan happened to stand 
 before a dark-red curtain which hung between the 
 studio and an adjoining room. She certainly made 
 a striking picture, and Mr. Frost was surprised. 
 
 " I beg your pardon," he said, as he acknowl-
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 81 
 
 edged his sister's introduction. " I didn't expect 
 to see any one, and you surprised me." 
 
 Miss Frost hid a smile. " Teddy " was such a 
 man of the world that she was amused to see 
 how he was impressed by her little protege". 
 
 " You have done some very good things since 
 I was here last, Jess. I have been poking around 
 among your canvases. You'll really be famous 
 if you keep on. The critics did you proud about 
 your last exhibit." 
 
 " I would rather hear you call my pictures 
 good than to hear what the critics say, Teddy," 
 and the dignified Miss Frost patted her brother's 
 broad back. 
 
 Nan began to feel homesick. This being with 
 people who had " folks " was really worse than 
 seeing lorn women. But she managed to swal- 
 low the lump in her throat, and a few moments 
 later when they were seated at dinner she found 
 herself enjoying the conversation. 
 
 Mr. Frost had lately returned from a sojourn 
 abroad, and he talked of everything which had 
 come in his way. To Nan, with her narrow 
 horizon, it all seemed like a bit from the Arabian 
 Nights. Now Mr. Frost was in a gondola at 
 Venice, the next moment he was in a cafe" at 
 Paris, or fishing for salmon in Norway. He told 
 stories of his student life in the Latin Quarter, of 
 building bridges in Arizona, and of shooting big 
 game in Manitoba.
 
 82 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 "What is he?" thought Nan. "Sometimes 
 he talks like an engineer, and sometimes like an 
 artist." The question must have been in her 
 eyes, for Miss Frost turned to her during a mo- 
 mentary lull in her brother's talk, and said, 
 
 "Annice, my brother is a civil engineer by 
 profession, and an artist by birth. He paints 
 better than I do, but spends nine months of each 
 year building bridges and railroads, and the re- 
 maining three months in Paris or Venice, paint- 
 ing pictures. He has just come back from his 
 annual dissipation, and he goes very soon to 
 New Mexico to forget for another nine months 
 that he ever held a brush." 
 
 " We are a very artistic family, Miss Wynkoop," 
 said Mr. Frost. " That is what people always say 
 at this juncture." 
 
 Nan did not know what to say. This man was 
 not like any man she had ever seen. She half 
 believed that he was making fun of her, that he 
 thought she was only a child. At any rate he 
 had been startled out of his self-possession when 
 he first saw her. " What a goose you are, Nan 
 Wynkoop," she thought, giving herself a mental 
 shake. " What difference does it make what he 
 thinks of you ? " 
 
 Mr. Frost was far away again, dining with an 
 Arab sheik, acting as war correspondent during 
 the Chinese-Japanese war, or sketching Indians 
 out on the plains. Nan saw that she need not
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 83 
 
 say anything, and both she and Miss Frost were 
 well content to listen. 
 
 They lingered long over their coffee, which 
 they had in the studio. At last Mr. Frost looked 
 at his watch. " We ought to take Miss Wynkoop 
 to hear something, Jessica. What is on, anything 
 worth while ? " 
 
 " I don't think so, Teddy, and I am quite sure 
 that Miss "Wynkoop would rather stay quietly 
 here than go out. She is tired, for this has been 
 her first week in New York. She is one of us, 
 Theodore." 
 
 He nodded. " I guessed as much. You are 
 not apt to have friends who are not of the same 
 mind. What do you think of New York, Miss 
 Wynkoop ? I believe that is the proper thing to 
 ask." 
 
 " It is too soon to know, is it not? Sometimes 
 it seems very pretty, some parts, I mean. Of 
 course I haven't been about much." 
 
 " You'll have to love it if you wish to keep in 
 my sister's good graces. She thinks there is no 
 town in the world like New York." 
 
 " If there is I haven't seen it." 
 
 " Haven't you seen Paris ? I am homesick for 
 it already. When we are rich, dear child, we'll 
 go there and stay." 
 
 " No, we won't, dear boy. I would rather have 
 ten years of New York than twenty years of 
 Paris."
 
 84 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 " Miss Wynkoop wouldn't. She is going to 
 Paris to study art." 
 
 Nan flushed. He was making fun of her. 
 " How do you know?" she asked sturdily. 
 
 " I see it in your eyes. I'll wager anything 
 you like that you are studying a French conver- 
 sation book, and learning how to say, ' Will 
 you kindly direct me to the Louvre?' Honest 
 now, own up." 
 
 " Don't tease her, Teddy. You must not 
 mind him, Annice. 
 
 " Of course she will go to Paris, but she will 
 come back like the good American she is, and 
 have a studio on Fifty-seventh Street. I dis- 
 covered Miss Wynkoop myself, Theodore, and I 
 expect to be very well satisfied with my find." 
 
 " Where is she studying? " 
 
 " At Cooper. That is very well for the pres- 
 ent, at least." 
 
 " What is she going to paint best?" 
 
 " Portraits." 
 
 " Is she working for fun or in dead earnest? " 
 
 "She is very much in earnest." 
 
 Nan noticed that they discussed her as if she 
 were not present. 
 
 Mr. Frost turned to her. " So you are one of 
 us, and I wish you good speed. Do you know 
 what art means, oftentimes? Are you willing to 
 live in an attic and go hungry, and wear old 
 clothes for art's sake ? Do you understand what
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 85 
 
 Browning meant when he wrote those words 
 about. sitting down to write or paint in poverty, 
 with pity for the rich ? " 
 
 Did she understand them ? They were the 
 very words she had used to Harriet the day 
 when she decided to go to New York. Again 
 she had a suspicion that Mr. Frost was making 
 fun of her. She didn't want him to. Miss Frost 
 she thoroughly understood and trusted, but she 
 had her doubts about the engineer-artist. She 
 consoled herself by thinking that he was con- 
 ceited, but she admitted to herself the next mo- 
 ment that she didn't see how he could help it. 
 
 They did not go anywhere, but sat and talked 
 the evening through. Miss Frost allowed her 
 brother to smoke, with total disregard for her 
 curtains, after Nan insisted that cigar smoke was 
 not at all disagreeable to her. 
 
 It was ten o'clock when she suddenly realized 
 that it was time to go home. Mr. Frost escorted 
 her, and nearly drove her to distraction by his 
 questions about the Christian Home. At last 
 she gave him a graphic description of the place 
 as she saw it, and was rewarded by his saying that 
 she ought to have been a newspaper woman. 
 
 " Come up to dinner again when I get back 
 from the West," he said, as he bade her good- 
 night. " Perhaps by that time you will be able 
 to give me more points about boarding-houses."
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 IT had been a wet, foggy, sticky day, and Nan 
 dragged herself home from the art school and sat 
 down in her corner of the room, a little, wet, be- 
 draggled heap of misery. She had received an un- 
 favorable criticism on her day's work, her head 
 ached and throbbed, and the weather had been 
 most dismal for several days. 
 
 " This is New York," said Nan, kicking her 
 trunk with the toe of her wet boot. " I wish I 
 had never come, so there ! I'll never, never, learn 
 to paint, and after coming down here with flying 
 colors, I shall have to go back and teach school- 
 I would have a good cryingspell if fourteen women 
 weren't likely to come in at any moment. It's 
 hard lines when one hasn't a chance to cry in 
 peace." 
 
 The bell rang three times, and Nan went into 
 the hall to see who was wanted. 
 
 " A gentleman to see Miss Wynkoop," the maid 
 called. 
 
 Nan wondered who it could be, and she forgot 
 to ask Martha the name. She bathed her face, 
 
 smoothed her hair, and ran down in her neat 
 86
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 87 
 
 Scotch plaid shirtwaist and black skirt. She was 
 too disconsolate to care how she looked. 
 
 Mr. Bamford sat near the door, and he came 
 forward eagerly as Nan entered. 
 
 " Why, what a surprise, I had no idea of seeing 
 you," said Nan, saying the first words which 
 came to her lips. 
 
 She knew she was blushing, and she was very 
 angry at herself for it, which made her blush all 
 the more. The truth is, that not five minutes 
 before Mr. Bamford came she had thought, " I 
 know I might marry Mr. Bamford if I wanted 
 to. Perhaps I am foolish not to think of him 
 seriously." 
 
 Mr. Bamford was still holding her hand, and 
 looking into her eyes in a way which was unmis- 
 takable. "You are not looking well, Annice." 
 
 ''Thank you," said Nan, making an effort to be 
 flippant. " Do you call that complimentary ?" 
 
 But Mr. Bamford paid no heed to her remark. 
 "You are too pale, and you are thinner than 
 when you left home. I fear you are working too 
 hard, and if this is a specimen of New York weather 
 I haven't any desire to be a resident." 
 
 " It isn't always so bad. Nor am I such a ghost 
 as you would make me believe." 
 
 Mr. Bamford shook his head gravely. 
 
 " Let us not talk any more about -me, please. 
 How are they all ? " 
 
 The last two words were spoken rather brokenly,
 
 38 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 as Nan realized. She had never been more home- 
 sick than she was just then. As she spoke she 
 could see the old brown house, and its inmates 
 gathered around the supper-table. 
 
 Mr. Bamford was tactful enough not to notice 
 the break in her voice. " Everybody is well, and 
 they are as happy and as contented as can be ex- 
 pected while their Nan is away. All the family 
 sent their love to you." 
 
 " Thank you very much. Now tell me how you 
 happened to come to New York." 
 
 Nan had her voice under control now. She sat 
 erect and at ease, and essayed to direct the con- 
 versation into safe channels. 
 
 " I didn't happen, I just came on purpose, as the 
 children say," returned Mr. Bamford, with a glim- 
 mer of amusement in his eyes. " Why shouldn't 
 I come? I wanted to see you, and here I am." 
 
 " Oh," said Nan comprehensively. She won- 
 dered if she should ask him to dinner. She would 
 if she had boarded anywhere else. But how could 
 she take a man down to dinner among all those 
 women. No ; she decided that she couldn't face 
 such an ordeal. 
 
 " Get your hat and coat, Annice, and come to 
 dinner with me," Mr. Bamford said, as if he had 
 read her thoughts. 
 
 Nan wanted to invent some excuse. She was 
 vexed that he had come, and still more vexed 
 that he did not pretend that he came on business.
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist 89 
 
 " I suppose I must be nice to him," she thought, 
 as she mounted the long stairs. 
 
 She changed her gown, putting on the dark 
 green one that Emma Anna had sent her at 
 Christmas time. Should she put on the pale blue 
 silk front ? The gown was so somber without 
 it. " No ; I shan't make myself look one bit 
 better than I can help," she said, with a con- 
 scious look in the mirror. " He is silly enough 
 about me, without encouraging him." 
 
 "Going out to dinner?" said Miss Jennings, 
 who had just come in. " You are to be congrat- 
 ulated. I wish I were going. I suppose that is 
 your young man in the parlor. He is very nice 
 looking, but I should be afraid he would be very 
 masterful. I hope he won't be frightened by 
 such a pack of women as come in at this time of 
 day." 
 
 " He isn't my young man," Nan replied se- 
 verely. " He is a friend of my family, and he 
 naturally called when he came to the city." 
 
 " Naturally," repeated Miss Jennings, in an 
 aggravating manner. 
 
 Nan opened a box and took out a spick-and- 
 span pair of gloves. " I want him to think that I 
 am rolling in wealth," she thought. " Perhaps I 
 would better put on the blue silk front. I dare 
 say I can manage him if he becomes too enthu- 
 siastic." 
 
 " I hope you are hungry," said Mr. Bamford,
 
 0O Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 as he seated himself opposite Nan at a table at 
 the St. Denis. " I am, I assure you. What do 
 you like ? " 
 
 " Anything and everything, but I have no im- 
 agination." 
 
 Nan had removed her jacket, and the blue silk 
 front was very becoming. The damp air made 
 her hair even more curly than usual. It hung in 
 little rings around her delicate ears, and on her 
 forehead. Mr. Bamford, evidently, was well 
 pleased with his ex-pupil, and Nan herself was 
 not displeased. It was much better to be dressed 
 in her new gown, and to be dining with a nice- 
 looking young man than to be eating boiled 
 mutton and rice pudding with a roomful of tired 
 women. She might as well be as charming as 
 she knew how to be, and repay Mr. Bamford for 
 his kindness to her. So she chatted in most 
 friendly fashion, and gave him an account of all 
 she did and saw from day to-day. But she was 
 careful not to tell him of her discouragements. 
 She kept up the appearance of being very happy, 
 very well satisfied with herself and with art. She 
 managed to speak that small word in a manner 
 which suggested a very large A. 
 
 Mr. Bamford listened to Nan, but he said little. 
 She found herself wishing that he would say 
 more. So long as he was in the restaurant 
 he could not talk about woman's sphere, and 
 such objectionable topics.
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist* 91 
 
 Miss Jennings had called him nice-looking ; 
 he was. Nan wondered that she had never before 
 seen how handsome he was. " He really has 
 very fine eyes, and his smile is quite attractive. 
 I wonder what such a mouth indicates." So 
 absorbed was Nan in her study of him, that she 
 failed to see the mischief in his eyes. 
 
 " Do you like me any better than you did last 
 summer, now that you have studied me ? " 
 
 The smile had spread over his whole face now. 
 
 Nan started, she was so surprised, " I beg par- 
 don," she stammered. " I was wondering, that 
 is, I was studying you, and I forgot that you 
 were not a model." 
 
 . " I don't mind in the least, I assure you. How 
 strange it seems to be here with you. We are 
 the same people who used to be in Macedonia, 
 are we not? You seem more grown up, and, 
 to tell the truth, I am a little afraid of you, 
 Annice." 
 
 Annice. Nan noticed that Mr. Bamford had 
 taken to using her Christian name. She did not 
 like it, for it suggested that he felt that he had 
 come nearer to her. She did not know what to 
 do about it, however, so she did nothing. 
 
 " I have missed you wofully, Annice. I dared 
 not let you know that I was coming, for I feared 
 you would order me to stay at home." 
 
 " It was very foolish of you to come unless 
 you had business. I shall be at home next sum-
 
 92 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 mer, and my friends will be able to see me then, 
 instead of wasting their substance in trips to New 
 York." 
 
 " That may suffice for your friends. I am not 
 one." 
 
 Nan set her teeth, and waited a second before 
 she replied : "If you are not my friend you 
 must be my foe, and I should be sorry to think 
 that of my old teacher." 
 
 There was no one within hearing distance, and 
 Mr. Bamford said, " I am a lonely man, waiting 
 for the woman I love to find out that home is 
 the best place in the world for a woman." 
 
 Nan flushed angrily. They had finished din- 
 ner, and she began to struggle into her jacket. 
 
 Mr. Bamford took it from her. " Let's start 
 right, so you won't crush your sleeves. I know 
 sleeves are not what they were once, but that is 
 a very pretty gown, and should be handled with 
 care." 
 
 As they reached the street Mr. Bamford looked 
 at his watch. " It is not eight yet. Let's go 
 and see something good. Or are you tired of the 
 theater?" 
 
 " No," said Nan, smiling as she thought of the 
 few times she had gone to see a play, in company 
 with other girls, and how they had climbed to 
 the family-circle. 
 
 " Or perhaps you would prefer to go to the 
 symphony concert. Just as you like, Annice."
 
 "Let's start, right, so you won't crush your sleeves," said Mr. Bamford as 
 he took her jacket from her. Page 92. Annice irynko<>i>.
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 93 
 
 " I think I prefer the concert." 
 
 Music always quieted Nan, and she felt that 
 she needed a quietus. It was better to go out 
 with Mr. Bamford than to sit in the parlor and 
 hear him say that he was waiting to have her 
 make a fizzle of art. 
 
 They did not sit in the family-circle, and the 
 music did rest Nan. She was in quite a peace- 
 able frame of mind when they started home. 
 " If he would only leave town soon," she said to 
 her self. 
 
 " What are you going to do to-morrow ? You 
 don't work on Saturday, do you ? Won't you 
 take me up to the Metropolitan museum, and 
 show me how to admire pictures ? That will 
 take the morning. Then we'll have luncheon 
 and go to Staten Island to see those cousins of 
 mine you met last summer. They always ex- 
 pect me to go to see them when I come to the 
 city. How does this program suit you ? I must 
 leave on the six o'clock train ; I shall stop over 
 Sunday with my brother, and reach home bright 
 and early Monday morning. I wish you were 
 going to be there in my classes, Annice." 
 
 " I don't. I would much rather be here. I'll 
 take you to the Metropolitan to-morrow. I go 
 once every week, and I haven't been there at all 
 this week. It will be great sport to make you 
 admire the pictures you should admire." 
 
 " I suppose I am a regular Philistine. That
 
 94 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 is the proper word to use, is it not ? How early 
 may I call for you to-morrow morning ? 
 
 " As soon as you like. We would better go 
 early, for it takes a long time to see even a few 
 pictures." 
 
 As Nan spoke they went up to the steps of the 
 boarding-house. The inmates did not carry 
 latch-keys, but if they expected to be out late 
 they usually explained to the matron, and were 
 given a latch-key. Nan had not provided her- 
 self with a key, for she had not expected to be 
 late. Mr. Bamford rang the bell again and again, 
 but no one responded. 
 
 " What a shame to keep you waiting here so 
 long. It is very chilly, I fear you will take cold." 
 And Mr. Bamford gave the bell a furious pull. 
 
 The light from the other side of the street fell 
 upon Nan's face. " You are thin, Annice. It 
 pains me to see that tired look in your eyes." 
 
 Nan turned away. " Don't," she said, " I am 
 well and happy. I don't need any pity. There 
 comes some one to open the door. I am so glad. 
 Good-night, Mr. Bamford, I have had a very 
 pleasant evening."
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 As Nan feared, the tour of the museum was not 
 a complete success. Mr. Bamford evinced a de- 
 cided disregard for art ; he preferred to sit down 
 and talk with one of its followers. In vain Nan 
 took him from room to room, and she was fully 
 aware that he looked at her instead of the pict- 
 ures. 
 
 " Ah, Miss Wynkoop, good-morning. I thought 
 I should find you here." 
 
 " Good-morning, Mr. Parrish. Mr. Bamford, 
 let me make you acquainted with Mr. Parrish. 
 Mr. Bamford is an old teacher of mine, Mr. Parrish, 
 and" 
 
 " Ah, you are to be congratulated on starting 
 Miss Wynkoop on the path of art, which she is 
 destined to tread with such 
 
 Nan laughed. " You need not take the trouble 
 to fill out the sentence, Mr. Parrish. Mr. Bamford 
 has nothing to do with my art studies. He doesn't 
 care for art at all ; he is a regular Philistine, as he 
 called himself just now. He is devoted to mathe- 
 matics and such disagreeable things. I have taken 
 real delight in making you look at pictures, Mr. 
 
 95
 
 96 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 Bamford, and I fancy I have paid you back for 
 some of the unhappy hours you gave me over 
 my mathematics." 
 
 " You were a very fair mathematician, Annice," 
 said Mr. Bamford, stiffly. 
 
 He teach her art ! He grew rigid at the very 
 idea. He did not approve of this young man, and 
 he took particular pains to call Nan by her Chris- 
 tian name. He did not thank her for calling him 
 her old teacher. He was glad he was older than 
 that airy young fellow who seemed on such very 
 good terms with Nan. What was that they were 
 saying about a miniature? 
 
 " How is the miniature coming on ? It is 
 done, Miss Henshawe wrote me. I haven't seen 
 it lately." 
 
 " Miss Henshawe is very conceited about that 
 piece of work. I told her it was no credit to her. 
 She could thank you for giving her such an inspir- 
 ing subject." 
 
 " What is this, Annice ? Have you had your 
 miniature painted ? " asked Mr. Bamford. 
 
 Nan noticed, with much amusement, that he had 
 resumed his " teachery " manner. 
 
 " One of my friends wanted to paint me, and I 
 consented, because I couldn't get out of her 
 clutches." 
 
 " I should like to see it." 
 
 " Why don't we all go and see it ? " Mr. Parrish 
 suggested. " If Miss Henshawe isn't in her sister
 
 Annice Wyiikoop, Artist, 97 
 
 will be, and she will let us poke around the studio 
 as much as we like." 
 
 To Nan's surprise, Mr. Bamford said he would 
 like to go, and the three walked down to Miss 
 Henshawe's studio in Fifty-seventh Street. 
 
 " Come in," said a voice, in response to Mr. 
 Parrish's rap, and the owner of the voice came to 
 meet them. She seemed quite abashed when she 
 saw the stranger, and apologized for her dusting- 
 cap, which she had forgotten to remove. 
 
 " Never mind the dusting-cap, Miss Minerva. 
 We know it is early to make calls. Is Miss Hen- 
 shawe in? " 
 
 Miss Minerva Henshawe, by the way, was fully 
 fifteen years older than her sister, but she never 
 claimed her prerogatives in name or otherwise. 
 
 " Yes, Clara is in. She is behind the screen, 
 making chocolate for luncheon. You are just in 
 time to take pot-luck with us." 
 
 " We were hoping we would be," said Mr. Par- 
 rish shamelessly. " The chocolate smells awfully 
 good." 
 
 Miss Henshawe came from behind the screen, 
 and greeted her guests with her usual en- 
 thusiasm. 
 
 "You shall see the miniature after we have had 
 our chocolate," she said. " There isn't much else. 
 If I had cheese I would make a Welsh rabbit. 
 Mr. Parrish, you shall make the salad dressing, 
 and, Nan dear, you may cut the bread. You al- 
 7
 
 98 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 ways cut it so thin, like the good little house- 
 wife that you are." 
 
 Mr. Bamford was much edified to see Nan cut- 
 ting bread. Miss Minerva tied a white apron 
 around her, and allowed her to assist in setting 
 the table. From the point of vantage where Mr. 
 Bamford sat, he could see behind the screen, 
 where the operations went on. 
 
 "Come, Mr. Bamford," said Miss Henshawe, 
 hospitably. " Is the salad ready, Mr. Parrish ? 
 Then let's sit by, as they say up in the country. 
 This is Bohemia, Mr. Bamford ; I hope you won't 
 be shocked." 
 
 But that gentleman seemed to be enjoying his 
 luncheon very much, to Nan's great surprise. 
 He put aside his teachery manner when he talked 
 with his hostess, but he assumed it instantly if 
 called upon to reply directly to any of Mr. Par- 
 rish's remarks. 
 
 That gentleman partook largely of the salad 
 which he had dressed, discoursing meantime upon 
 art matters. As he never made a statement which 
 Miss Henshawe did not contradict, naturally the 
 conversation was lively. 
 
 "Is there anything else? If there is I will 
 change the plates," he said obligingly. 
 
 " There are some preserves left, are there not, 
 Minerva?" asked Miss Henshawe. 
 
 " Yes ; I'll get them. I allow no one in my 
 preserve jar."
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 99 
 
 She came back presently with a plate of pound 
 cake, and some rich quince preserves. 
 
 " What a dessert ! " exclaimed Mr. Parrish, 
 appreciatively, as he deftly changed the plates. 
 " I shall be good-natured for a whole week, Miss 
 Minerva. Every summer, Miss Wynkoop, Miss 
 Minerva goes up into the country, no one knows 
 just where, and holds a kind of Elusinian mystery 
 in somebody's orchard. In the fall she comes 
 back with preserves like these. Do you make 
 enough pound cake in the summer to last all year, 
 Miss Minerva? " 
 
 " No ; this cake was made in my cousin's 
 kitchen in Harlem this week. I can't bake cake 
 here," said Miss Minerva, with regret in her 
 voice. 
 
 " Minerva is heartbroken because her dinners 
 come in from restaurants, and because her break- 
 fasts and luncheons are cooked in a chafing-dish or 
 on a gas stove. I believe she sighs for a big 
 range so she can cook ' biled dish ' and bake In- 
 dian pudding." 
 
 " We never had ' biled dish ' at home, Clara. 
 I would like a sizable range, though. I can't 
 seem to get used to cooking on a gas stove." 
 
 " Now for the miniature," cried Mr. Parrish, 
 when the pound cake had been eaten. "When 
 we have seen it and admired it, we will wash the 
 dishes." 
 
 Miss Henshawe led the way back to the studio
 
 loo Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 part of the big room. " If you don't call it good 
 I shall never be able to hold up my head again." 
 
 Mr. Parrish seized the miniature, held it above 
 his head, and dropped on his knees in a dramatic 
 fashion. 
 
 Nan looked at Mr. Bamford. He was actually 
 glowering at the artist. 
 
 " It's simply immense, Miss Henshawe. It is 
 worthy of its subject ; I can say no more." 
 
 Miss Henshawe took the miniature from Mr. 
 Parrish and gave it to Mr. Bamford. He looked 
 at it, as Miss Henshawe afterward said to her 
 sister, as if he were saying his prayers to it. 
 
 He made no comment, however, except to say 
 that it was very like the original, and handed it 
 to Nan. 
 
 " Such a fuss about a miniature," said that 
 young woman, energetically. " I don't think 
 much of it, Clara Henshawe, and I don't intend 
 to help spoil you. Now let's all go and wash the 
 dishes. Oh, Mr. Bamford, pardon me ; I forgot 
 that we are going to Staten Island. But I am 
 coming up soon, Miss Minerva, to have a good 
 old-fashioned visit with you, when Clara is 
 out." 
 
 Nan kissed Miss Minerva, and shook hands 
 with Miss Henshawe and Mr. Parrish. Mean- 
 time, Mr. Bamford was taking a last look at the 
 miniature. 
 
 The visit to Staten Island was anything but
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 101 
 
 pleasant to Nan. Mr. Bamford's relatives seemed 
 to have an impression that there was a great deal 
 between him and Nan, and they took sundry 
 ways of making it known to her. Nan was more 
 than annoyed ; she was angry. She had met 
 Mr. Bamford's young lady cousins the summer 
 before, and she had " asked them to tea," so it 
 was perfectly natural that she should call on them. 
 They asked her very pointedly if she expected to 
 study art next year. Nan knew that she couldn't 
 unless something entirely unforeseen occurred, 
 but she promptly answered, " Oh, certainly. It 
 will take years of hard study to prepare me for 
 my life work." That will impress them, she added 
 to herself. 
 
 It seemed to, for nothing more was said about 
 her plans for the future. Nan and Mr. Bamford 
 were most cordially asked " to stay to tea," but 
 he had his train to make, so they left early. 
 
 Nan went with Mr. Bamford to the station at 
 his earnest request. " What shall I tell your 
 people ? " he asked as he bade her good-by. 
 
 "Tell them that I am busy and happy," said 
 Nan bravely. " And, Mr. Bamford, please don't 
 tell them that I am not looking well. I don't 
 want them to worry about me." 
 
 "All aboard," shouted the official in stentorian 
 tones. 
 
 Mr. Bamford took both Nan's hands. " I'll say 
 nothing that you don't want me to say, little Nan,
 
 IO2 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 for my desire, my only desire, is to stand well in 
 your sight." 
 
 " I don't care for him, and I don't believe I 
 ever can," Nan thought as she waited for a down- 
 town car. " Still, if he keeps on in this way he 
 may make me feel so sorry for him that 
 
 " But I won't," she broke off suddenly. " I shall 
 never marry any man unless I love him better 
 than I love pictures, and that will be loving him 
 very much indeed." 
 
 So absorbed was she that she did not look up 
 when Miss Henshawe came in and took a seat 
 next her. 
 
 " So art is second with you, after all," said 
 Miss Henshawe. 
 
 Nan jumped. " Oh, it is you ! How you startled 
 me. What do you mean ? " 
 
 " Mean ? That Bamford man is head-over-ears 
 in love with you. It is beautiful to see a man 
 so absorbed in some one besides himself." 
 
 " I don't see anything beautiful about it," said 
 Nan crossly, " and there isn't any ' it.' He is an 
 old teacher of mine, and he very naturally called 
 on me when he came to New York." 
 
 Miss Henshawe laughed. " And he very nat- 
 urally is jealous of Mr. Parrish, and he very nat- 
 urally wants to buy my miniature of you." 
 
 Nan jumped again. " How do you know?" 
 " Because while you were saying good-by to 
 Minerva he asked me to sell it to him."
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 103 
 
 "If you ever do " 
 
 " I didn't. You needn't get so excited. I in- 
 tend to keep it to exhibit. That is what I did 
 it for. He is very nice-looking, and I am not so 
 sure that you wouldn't do well to marry him." 
 
 "I shan't. I'll paint all my life if I starve to 
 death doing it." 
 
 " I said that once, but it has occurred to me 
 several times since that I was a fool. After all, 
 life is more than art. That is a well-rounded 
 sentence, and I'll leave it with you to muse over. 
 I get out here. I am going to dine with a happy 
 woman. I'll tell you about her some day. 
 Adieu ! " 
 
 When Nan went to her room after dinner it 
 seemed full of women. All the room-mates were at 
 home, and two other girls dropped in to chat a 
 while. Nan made it evident that she wished 
 to be left alone, and she spent the whole evening 
 over " A Painter's Camp" which she held upside 
 down.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 NAN had become quite friendly with a Miss 
 Madison who sat opposite her at the table. Miss 
 Madison was a middle-aged woman who " wrote 
 for the papers," and always spoke of herself as a 
 " literary woman." " She looks like an old-time 
 blue-stocking," Miss Henshawe remarked, the 
 first time she saw her, and Nan thought that the 
 sentence described Miss Madison perfectly. 
 
 Miss Madison and Nan chatted a great deal, 
 especially at luncheon, when they came in later 
 than some of the other boarders. Nan was al- 
 ways glad when Miss Madison was there, for then 
 she did not so much notice the conversation of 
 the medical students about their " subjects." 
 Miss Madison had only one room-mate, and she 
 was out nearly every evening, so Nan often spent 
 an evening with her. 
 
 Miss Madison was a theosophist, and she at 
 once began to try to convert Nan to her faith. 
 She often invited the girl to attend the theo- 
 sophical meetings with her, and Nan, who had 
 begun to have a keen relish for all kinds of New 
 York life, said that she would be glad to go. 
 
 The first thing which struck Nan's eyes when 
 104
 
 Annie e Wynkoop, Artist. 105 
 
 they entered the room where the meeting was to 
 be held was a large portrait of Madam Blavatsky. 
 The picture had a queer attraction for Nan, for 
 the eyes seemed to move. 
 
 Miss Madison excused herself a moment, and 
 went to speak to some acquaintances. Nan im- 
 proved the opportunity to look about and see 
 how the people looked. She wished she could 
 sketch them ; they belonged to a new type. 
 
 Miss Madison came back presently, and the 
 " meeting went in." The leader read a few selec- 
 tions from the Book of Silence. Next a man went 
 to the platform and read a paper on something 
 which pretended to explain something about the 
 symbolism of the Greek Cross. Nan could not 
 understand it at all. As Grandma Wynkoop 
 would have said, she could not " make head or 
 tail of it." Miss Madison sat with a rapt ex- 
 pression on her face, and Nan wondered if the 
 fault were hers, if she were stupid. She tried to 
 catch a sentence occasionally and remember it. 
 But by the time she had learned it another would 
 strike her as being more ridiculous, and she would 
 try to remember that. At last she came away 
 with nothing but a reference to " the sound of the 
 soundless sound." These words were uttered in 
 a most impressive manner. Nan gathered also 
 that the present time was a most momentous 
 period, and that, as the end of the century drew 
 nearer, strange happenings might be expected.
 
 io6 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 Madam Blavatsky, or H. P. B. as the speaker 
 called her, was even now sending messages to the 
 faithful, who were exhorted to keep their loins 
 girt. 
 
 Nan several times stifled a wild desire to laugh. 
 As she told Miss Jamieson afterward, she could 
 have stood it better if she could have poked some- 
 body at the funny places. She could not poke 
 Miss Madison, for obvious reasons. 
 
 After the paper was finished several men and 
 one woman discussed it, but Nan did not get any 
 light. 
 
 As they reached the street, Miss Madison asked, 
 " Did you enjoy it ? You must know something 
 about theosophy to enjoy such a meeting. It 
 was an unusually fine one. As you go deeper into 
 theosophy you will see light breaking in on you 
 every step of the way." 
 
 " And hear the sound of the soundless sound, 
 I suppose," thought Nan. " I enjoyed it," she 
 said aloud, "and how I did want to sketch some 
 of the faithful," she added to herself. 
 
 "Come up to my room, and I will give you 
 some theosophical literature," said Miss Madison, 
 as they went into the house. 
 
 Miss Madison always kept a photograph of 
 Madam Blavatsky on her mantel. Nan stood 
 before it. The eyes had the same peculiarity as 
 those in the portrait in the hall, they followed 
 one around the room.
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 107 
 
 " That portrait of the great adept presents her 
 in one of her most gentle and sympathetic moods," 
 said Miss Madison, looking over her book- 
 shelves. 
 
 " How long ago did she die ? " Nan asked, 
 thinking she ought to say something. 
 
 " She departed from her physical body in 1891," 
 replied Miss Madison impressively. 
 
 " Oh ! " said Nan. 
 
 " It was the greatest crisis we have ever been 
 through, but we have weathered it. In fact, there 
 have been new life and energy since her departure. 
 No doubt that it was best for theosophy that she 
 went. She had made all her preparations ; she 
 knew that she must soon depart from her physical 
 body. No doubt she is using in other, higher 
 ways, the power which she formerly expended 
 in maintaining her body. She is, no doubt, train- 
 ing a new instrument. As Mr. Christiansen said, 
 we may expect wonderful revelations soon. I 
 wish you would go with me to the next meeting. 
 I don't know just what the subject of the paper 
 will be, but it will be an application of the philos- 
 ophy of the transient to the elucidation of the 
 changeless. It will be very helpful, and I should 
 like you to hear it. 
 
 " Now you need a course of reading, and I will 
 give you a brief one. Read ' Theosphy simply 
 Put,' ' The Ocean of Theosophy,' ' the Key to 
 Theosophy,' ' Septenary Man,' ' Isis Unveiled,'
 
 io8 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 and the ' Light on the Path.' The last is a 
 helpful devotional book. I haven't all the books 
 I mentioned, but I will give you three, and I 
 will get the others for you." 
 
 As Nan came down the stairs Miss Jamieson 
 met her. " Did you go? " she asked. 
 
 " Yes. Look at all this literature I had to 
 take it, or break Miss Madison's heart. I can't 
 see how such a level-headed woman as she seems 
 to be can believe in this sort of thing." 
 
 " Nor I," assented Miss Jamieson. " She is 
 probably delighted that you went with her. She 
 used to invite me, but I never went, and I think 
 I offended her." 
 
 " She talks as if I wanted to believe it, and 
 loads me down with literature. I think a good 
 course in theosophy would drive me crazy. My 
 head is full of a jumble of Karma, the Microcosm 
 of the Macrocosm, the Upanishads, and a lot 
 more words I can't pronounce. I don't see why 
 these people in this house always insist on tak- 
 ing me to their ' doings.' Miss Christian Scientist 
 I forget her name, asks me every few days to 
 go to her church with her." 
 
 " Oh, they know that you have only lately 
 come to the city. They think that you are im- 
 pressionable, and that you will make an easy 
 convert. We have a spiritualist here too. She 
 is a new-comer, though." 
 
 " I shan't go to her meetings, no matter how
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 109 
 
 much she asks me. That much is sure. But the 
 Christian Science woman is so sweet and so sure 
 that she never can get ill and die, that she inter- 
 ests me. She talks to me every chance she has. 
 She says she is thinking good thoughts about me 
 all the time, and I can't be ill or sad. Thoughts 
 are things, you know. She says she was very 
 seriously ill, and that ' the science ' cured her all 
 at once." 
 
 " Humph ! I should like to ask her what she 
 had. Perhaps people are cured of nervous dis- 
 eases, that is, diseases which they think they 
 have. Miss Watson says she would never, under 
 any circumstances, have a physician, and lots of 
 them would rather die than have a doctor. It is 
 great fun to hear Miss Watson and the medical 
 students argue. If she is right there would be 
 no need of any of them, would there? I asked 
 Miss Watson once if she didn't expect that some- 
 thing would have to happen to her to take her 
 out of the world." 
 
 " What did she say ? " 
 
 " Oh, something to the effect that if faith were 
 perfect enough there would be no death. I sug- 
 gested that the world might be uncomfortably 
 full after a while, if every body kept alive, but 
 she went on eating Charlotte russe, with that 
 calm, sweet expression on her face, and I almost 
 wished I had a hobby if it would make me so 
 happy.
 
 HO Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 " But there is no danger for me ; I have seen 
 too many hobbies mounted to want one long. 
 But you would better be careful, or some of these 
 people will pick you up and set you on their 
 steeds and gallop away with you." 
 
 " I wish they would leave me alone. There is 
 Miss Jordan, the vegetarian woman. She actu- 
 ally drives me wild. Why doesn't she stay in her 
 room and eat apples and potatoes, instead of 
 coming to the table and telling us all sorts of 
 things about our roast beef. Then there is the 
 widow, Mrs. McPherson, she wants me to drink 
 hot water instead of coffee." 
 
 "Yes, I know them all. I'm sorry for you, for 
 I have been through all you are going through, 
 except the theosophy. That I refused, point 
 blank." 
 
 " People are always asking me to take flats 
 with them," Nan went on. " I've had three 
 offers from women in this house, and three girls 
 at the art school have asked me to take a studio 
 with them next year." 
 
 " Don't go with any of them. You are much 
 too young for that sort of thing. Girls are al- 
 ways getting the studio mania. They think if 
 they have a low couch covered with a Bagdad 
 rug, some Japanese screens, an old copper tea- 
 kettle, and some pieces of pottery, the stuff will 
 make artists of them. As for flats, every self- 
 supporting female in New York has had one or
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. in 
 
 means to have one. Every now and then a girl 
 disappears, and it is always safe to say that she 
 has taken a flat. She is sure to come back, a 
 sadder, if not a wiser, woman. So don't let any 
 one talk you into a studio or a flat scheme. You 
 would much better have your time free than to 
 be cooking and marketing. It is all very well to 
 have an apartment if you have some one to keep 
 house for you, as Miss Henshawe's sister does 
 for her. You see I am afraid that somebody 
 is going to have too much influence over you." 
 
 " You needn't worry ; I have a will of my own, 
 as you may find out some day. If I do fly off 
 at a tangent it won't be a theosopical one, I assure 
 you. I really wish you would go next time. It 
 is great fun." 
 
 " I won't, though. I shall not waste good time 
 which I might spend in sleep."
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 NAN'S little hoard of money was exhausted the 
 first of April. Besides the amount which was to 
 take her home, and which she would not touch, 
 under any circumstances, she had the four dollars 
 for her board that week, and about half a dollar 
 for emergencies. She had known that this time 
 was near, but she would not face the worst till 
 she must. A slight illness, and the consequent 
 doctor's bill, had shortened her stay by one week, 
 and ten dollars loaned to an impecunious art 
 student, who now frankly confessed her inability 
 to pay her debts, meant the loss of two weeks 
 more to Nan. Evidently she must go home at 
 once, unless she could find something to do. But 
 .what could she do? She put the shabby little 
 purse in her pocket, and went to look up Miss 
 Jamieson. 
 
 She was alone, and Nan stated her dilemma. 
 
 " Of course you must not go home now. It is 
 only about six weeks till closing time, and you 
 must do the full year's work. What is the matter 
 with borrowing from me? " 
 
 Nan shook her head decidedly. " No, never, 
 but I thank you just the same. I didn't come to 
 
 112
 
 Annie e Wynkoop, Artist. 113 
 
 you to have you offer to lend me money, but I 
 thought you might be able to think of something 
 I can do to help myself." 
 
 " Let's see what we can find ? Where is the 
 Herald. We'll look over the wants. What can 
 you do? " 
 
 Nan shook her head dolefully. " Nothing but 
 daub paint. I've spent all my money and I can't 
 ever come back, and I have learned just enough 
 to show me that I don't know anything. At the 
 same time, I love painting better than ever. I will 
 come back and study, even if it takes me years 
 to earn money enough. I'll even teach school 
 to earn it. I said I never would, but I will. I'll 
 teach all next year and save enough money to 
 pay my board here another year. I'll go up a 
 flight higher to a room with more women in it, 
 if necessary. I don't believe I would love paint- 
 ing so much if I had no gift for it." 
 
 " Of course you wouldn't," said Miss Jamieson, 
 absently. She was running over the columns of 
 the Herald. " You couldn't keep books a little ? " 
 
 " No ; I hate figures, and I don't know the first 
 thing about bookkeeping. I told you that I can't 
 do anything, so there's no use in looking. I'll go 
 home and brush up my studies a little so that I 
 can pass an examination for a teacher's certificate. 
 Don't take any more trouble." 
 
 " There seems to be nothing here for you. You 
 would better advertise." 
 8
 
 114 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 " For what ? " 
 
 " I'll think of something. I believe in the law 
 of supply and demand. There must be some- 
 thing in this big town for a bright girl like you 
 to do. You have your afternoons, and if you 
 can make ever so little it will help you out. I 
 wish you knew anything about bookkeeping, I 
 might get some work in our house. Why don't 
 you talk to that Miss Jennings, in your room? 
 She gets her living somehow, and seems to 
 know how to get along without giving much time 
 to it. She paints a water color portrait now and 
 then, or does a crayon portrait. Winter before 
 last she actually taught a class in calisthenics 
 in night schools, and she didn't know any more 
 about calisthenics than I do. She went to a 
 teacher and paid twenty-five dollars to be coached 
 for the position, and she got along very well, not 
 to say anything of making three dollars an hour. 
 She has confidence enough for anything. I went 
 down one night to see her teach, and she carried 
 the affair off like a. specialist. 
 
 " The next thing she did was to teach clay 
 modeling, and I suppose she learned how to 
 model by teaching it. She writes a little, too, I 
 think, for I have seen letters from publishers at 
 her plate. Could you write at all ? " 
 
 " No, I never thought of such a thing. I might 
 possibly illustrate some day, though ; I have been 
 working at pen-and-ink all winter."
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. Il 
 
 " Why don't you try to sell some of your 
 sketches? " 
 
 " They are not good enough." 
 
 " How do you know ? Has any one told you 
 so?" 
 
 " No, but I simply can't go to editors and ask 
 them to look at my work." 
 
 " You'll get over that nonsense before you 
 make your living by art. You must have more 
 faith in yourself. It is more than half the battle. 
 The world is very apt to take you at your own 
 estimate. Are you going? " 
 
 "Yes; I am so tired and gloomy I'm going to 
 sleep and forget who I am." 
 
 " Don't get the blues, whatever happens. Keep 
 turning things- over in your mind, and we'll both 
 watch the advertisements. We'll be sure to find 
 something to keep you here." 
 
 A couple of evenings later Miss Jamieson tapped 
 at Nan's door. " Come down to the parlor ; I 
 want to talk to you." 
 
 " Come in. They are out, every woman of 
 them. I was going to a lecture at Cooper, but 
 when I found they were going out, I stayed in to 
 celebrate." 
 
 " I think perhaps I am on the trail of some- 
 thing for you," and Miss Jamieson took some 
 clippings from her purse. " There doesn't seem 
 to be anything just desirable, but this might do. 
 It's a lazy woman, I suppose, who wants some
 
 n6 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 one to attend to her correspondence. She is in 
 Brooklyn, but you would better answer it. You 
 write a fashionable hand, and she will like that. 
 Put on your green gown and let your hair stick 
 out around your ears, and she can't resist you. 
 Even if it brings you only two or three dollars a 
 week, you would better take it." 
 
 " But two or three dollars wouldn't pay my 
 board, even if I lived on the roof." 
 
 "No; but we'll find something else. Let's see 
 some of your pen-and-ink work." 
 
 Nan obediently brought her sketches, and 
 Miss Jamieson looked at them critically. 
 
 " I don't see why they are not good," was her 
 verdict. " Pick out some of your best things and 
 send them to editors. Some of this work is ex- 
 cellent. That small youngster offering a toad- 
 stool to a toad is very clever. Send it to some 
 paper which has a children's corner. You are too 
 afraid to be successful. I'm going downstairs to 
 ask Miss Seymour if she knows of any place where 
 you can get illustrating to do. She works for a 
 publishing house. She is a proof-reader, and she 
 may know of something for you. Meantime, you 
 are not to pack your trunk. If I find Miss Sey- 
 mour in I'll come back and report to you." 
 
 Miss Seymour was in, and presently Miss 
 Jamieson came back with some papers in her 
 hands. 
 
 " I have it," she announced triumphantly. " The
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 117 
 
 very thing you want. Miss Seymour says this 
 paper, The Educational Headlight, teacher's jour- 
 nal, you know, wants a ' special artist,' and the 
 editor asked her people if they knew of some one. 
 She says she likes your looks, and she likes your 
 sketches, which I took down without your knowl- 
 edge. You may go to this editor man, and say 
 she sent you. So you must take your sketches 
 and go to see him to-morrow. The work is 
 easy ; they want flowers and triangles and other 
 geometrical things, and decorative heads for 
 Arbor Day and Fourth of July and such occasions. 
 You can do them if you only think so. Now I 
 must go down and darn stockings. Good luck to 
 you ! " 
 
 Nan felt like a girl in a story book as she waited 
 for the editor. He was by no means a formidable 
 youth, but he had a " teachery " manner, which 
 reminded her of Mr. Bamford. The teacher- 
 editor seemed pleased with the work Nan showed 
 him, and he bought the toad picture at once, say- 
 ing it would do nicely for teachers to reproduce 
 on the blackboard, and it would correlate with a 
 lesson on the toad which he intended to use in 
 the next number of this paper. He then gave 
 her some suggestions which he wished her to 
 follow, and politely escorted her to the elevator. 
 
 "If I only suit," thought Nan, as she went 
 home. She got out her materials and went to 
 work with a will. "At any rate, I will have some
 
 iiS Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 money for my toad picture, and it will be the first 
 I ever earned. It won't be the last by any 
 means." 
 
 After an hour or two she went over to the 
 Astor library to get some hints for illustrations 
 of Esquimo children, and she spent the evening 
 over her picture, as Miss Tarbell called it. Miss 
 Tarbell was much interested in Nan's new venture, 
 for she was a subscriber to The Headlight, and 
 kept the bound volumes on her desk. 
 
 The next afternoon Nan drew a dandelion in 
 blossom, a dandelion gone to seed, besides cutting 
 up the blossom, and drawing all the parts. One 
 of the art students who lived in a suburban town 
 furnished the dandelion, and promised to bring 
 Nan any flowers she needed. Nan made, also, a 
 border of dandelions conventionalized, an initial 
 letter, and a tail piece, working in the long-suf- 
 fering dandelion. This work was finished in 
 Miss Jamieson's room in the evening, for her 
 room-mates were out and Nan's were in. 
 
 " I feel that I ought to steep some dandelions 
 and make a tea," said Nan, as she wiped her pen. 
 " I can't think of anything else to do. I suppose 
 this is correlation, about which the editor talked 
 so much. He talked three quarters of an hour, 
 and I can remember only two words, pedagogy 
 and correlation. I hope I looked as if I knew 
 what they meant. Correlation means that you 
 have pictures of dandelions and sing songs about
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 119 
 
 them, and speak pieces about them, and have a 
 botany lesson on the dandelion. I really want 
 to be pedagogical and correlative. I think I must 
 drink some dandelion tea." 
 
 " You would better come out to the drug store 
 and have some soda with me," laughed Miss 
 Jamieson. " It's only nine o'clock, and I'm very 
 thirsty." 
 
 They had their soda, and then they walked up 
 to one of the little parks which were gay with 
 tulips and hyacinths. The trees were beginning 
 to show their green ; spring was in the air. Late 
 as it was, a few children were playing tag, their 
 mothers were seated on benches enjoying a brief 
 rest. Young lovers sat with their arms around 
 each other, perfectly oblivious of onlookers. 
 The electric lights showed their faces as plainly 
 as daylight, and Nan, as usual, studied them as 
 she passed. She was getting to have a passion 
 for faces, and sometimes she forgot herself and 
 stared, so absorbed was she. 
 
 After a half hour Nan and Miss Jamieson walked 
 home. " Yes ; the city is lovely now," said Miss 
 Jamieson, in reply to some remark of Nan's, 
 " but in a few weeks it will be like a furnace. 
 You'll get away, though, before it is really hot. 
 We people who have to stay here all summer 
 have nothing good to say for New York." 
 
 " I'm afraid I'll never come back, and I hate to 
 think of leaving," said Nan, mournfully.
 
 I2O Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 " Oh, you'll be on your feet the first thing you 
 know, with your pictures and correlation. Keep 
 up your courage. You are too young to have 
 the blues." 
 
 When Nan carried her work to the editor he 
 was pleased with it, and he kindly told her that 
 she bade fair to suit them. He gave her a 
 new assignment, which was to illustrate a lesson 
 on bees. She was to draw a drone, a queen bee, 
 a cell, a piece of honeycomb, besides making 
 more initial letters and head and tail pieces, 
 wherein the busy bee was to figure. 
 
 A mathematical lesson was also to be illustrated, 
 and she was asked to make gill, pint, and quart 
 measures, and the various dry measures. These, 
 with a hint for a blackboard sketch for closing 
 exercises, completed the editor's orders. As she 
 left he presented her with an autograph copy of 
 his monograph on Pestalozzi, which Miss Wyn- 
 koop promptly gave to Miss Tarbell. 
 
 This new work took considerable time, for Nan 
 could not make a satisfactory decoration for clos- 
 ing exercises. She consulted Miss Jamieson, 
 but although she was sympathetic, she had no 
 views on the subject. At last Nan finished the 
 design, and submitted it. The editor made a few 
 criticisms, and offered some suggestions, which 
 Nan followed out at once, and the design was 
 accepted. 
 
 " There will be nothing more for a week," said
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 121 
 
 Mr. Foote. " Perhaps you would like a check for 
 the work you have done.'' 
 
 Nan thought she would. It was on the day of 
 the week when her board was due, and she had 
 just thirty-seven cents in her purse, besides the 
 money put aside to take her home. 
 
 She pocketed the check for eight dollars with 
 thankfulness. It meant two weeks' board, and an 
 opportunity for two weeks' study. The editor 
 promised to let her know when he needed her 
 again, and she hoped that would be soon. 
 
 Nan had walked a great deal of late, because 
 she couldn't afford car-fare, but now she felt so 
 rich that she went up to see Miss Henshawe. 
 
 That enthusiastic young woman embraced her 
 and inquired where she had kept herself. Nan 
 told the history of the last two days. She felt 
 more hopeful now, and she could afford to tell 
 how low her finances had been. 
 
 " Why, you poor thing," cried Miss Henshawe. 
 " Why didn't you come to me ? I've been get- 
 ting orders, and I'm simply rolling in wealth. 
 You look thin. Do you get enough to eat at that 
 house ? Are you sure ? At any rate the food is 
 not what you ought to have. I am afraid your 
 people will think that you have changed. It's so 
 fortunate that you dropped in just now, for Min- 
 erva and I have been talking about you, and we 
 wanted to see you. In fact, we have a plan in 
 which you are concerned. Minerva is going to a
 
 122 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 wedding next week. An old school friend of hers 
 is to be married, and Minerva is to be bridesmaid. 
 It's a ridiculous match, but it is sweet, too. This 
 man is a widower with four children, and his wife 
 is dead." 
 
 " Naturally," assented Nan. 
 
 Miss Henshawe laughed. "Where was I ? O, 
 yes ; this woman, Serena McDowell what a 
 name is going to marry her old love and mother 
 all his four children. Minerva is going to be 
 bridesmaid, as I told you before. This narrative 
 of mine has something to do with you, though 
 you don't see the point yet. Now here it comes. 
 Minerva will be away a month, for while she is 
 west, she is going to visit some more friends and 
 a host of relations. She insists that she can't 
 leave me alone, and she says she will feel perfectly 
 easy about me if you will come and stay with me. 
 Say you will come. We will have great fun." 
 
 Nan hesitated. "You are perfectly sure that 
 you are not doing this to help me?" 
 
 "Nonsense! Didn't I tell you that Minerva 
 and I had the whole thing planned before I knew 
 that you were broke ? " 
 
 Miss Henshawe occasionally indulged in a little 
 slang. 
 
 "We will have a beautiful time," she went on. 
 " I can cook several things in a chafing-dish, and 
 quite often they are fit to eat. I hope you know 
 something about cooking, but if you don't, never
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 123 
 
 mind. We can go out to dinner every night. 
 There is a house in the next block where we can 
 get good table board." 
 
 " I'll come if you will let me pay half the ex- 
 penses." 
 
 "That wouldn't be fair, for you are coming to 
 chaperon me. But you may pay half the ex- 
 pense of the culinary department, since you are 
 so very independent." 
 
 " I am. I have eight dollars and thirty-seven 
 cents. No, eight dollars and thirty-two cents ; 
 it cost me five cents to get up here. I owe no 
 man anything, neither any woman, except the 
 matron, and I shall pay her to-night for last week's 
 board. I am the special artist of The Educational 
 Headlight. Who says I have not a career? " 
 
 " You have, if you don't marry and settle down. 
 Sometimes I hope you will, and sometimes I 
 hope you won't. I believe Minerva's old-maid 
 friend's marriage has set me off into a romantic 
 state of mind." 
 
 " No ; it hasn't. I knew you were romantic 
 when I first met you. By the way, I wonder why 
 people always say marry and settle down. When 
 I marry I shall soar instead of settling down. 
 And I shall never marry any man unless he loves 
 paints as well as I do." 
 
 " Don't, I beg you, ever fall in love with an 
 art student. A man art student is good for noth- 
 ing. There is Basil Parish, he is an absolute
 
 124 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 cumberer of the ground. He really has talent, 
 and he might amount to something if he would 
 cut his hair and go to work in earnest. But he 
 spends most of his time dusting his china and 
 bric-a-brac. A regular old maid ! You haven't 
 been to see his studio yet ; what a shame. I'll 
 get Minerva to take us before she goes. He is 
 very proud of his studio, and his things are so 
 much nicer than mine that I turn green with envy, 
 though I wouldn't have him know it for the world. 
 And Minerva goes about and says how much 
 better his arrangements are than mine, till I feel 
 like pinching her. It's great fun to see him mak- 
 ing tea in a leaky copper kettle which he picked 
 up in some old junk-shop down town." 
 
 Nan declined Miss Henshawe's invitation to 
 remain for dinner. It was the night when she 
 wrote her usual weekly letter home, and she never 
 neglected this duty. As she ate her dinner she 
 was thankful that she could go to stay with Miss 
 Henshawe, for she felt that she needed a change.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE change from the boarding-house to the 
 studio was an excellent thing for Nan, who had 
 been running down for several weeks. If she had 
 been at home her mother would have brewed 
 home-made bitters for her, made out of divers 
 roots and herbs. This she always dispensed in 
 the spring to such members of her family as were 
 ''complaining." Nan was glad that she need not 
 take the bitters, but she felt that she needed 
 something, for she had not her usual strength. 
 After a few days with Miss Henshawe, however, 
 she began to improve, and Miss Henshawe told 
 her she looked much better. 
 
 They did their own cooking, and their dinners 
 were a success, thanks to Nan. She very soon 
 saw that Miss Henshawe's culinary knowledge 
 did not extend beyond chocolate, salad dressing 
 and Welsh rarebit, and Nan took complete charge 
 of the kitchen department and the marketing. 
 At home she was considered an artistic young 
 lady who knew next to nothing about cooking, 
 and when Mrs. Wyncoop heard that Nan was 
 doing the catering and cooking for herself and 
 Miss Henshawe, she remarked, with much pity in 
 125
 
 126 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 her tone, " Poor children." But Miss Henshawe 
 and her friends praised Nan's efforts so much that 
 her head was nearly turned. 
 
 Miss Minerva left her little room to Nan, and 
 the girl thoroughly enjoyed it. It made her think 
 of her own little room at home, and when she 
 had pinned up some of her sketches she could 
 almost imagine herself under the roof of the brown 
 house. She told herself that if she did come back 
 next year she would not go back to that board- 
 ing house. She would find some other way to 
 live, even if she had to take a hall-room and do 
 light housekeeping. Miss Frost had tried to 
 frighten her out of this plan by telling her that 
 she would become queer and talk to herself, but 
 she thought she might better be too lonely than 
 to have too much society. 
 
 She had found her room-mates quite agreeable, 
 and had managed to get through the winter very 
 comfortably. Miss Tarbell and Miss Stearns 
 were perfect ladies, and Miss Jennings was by no 
 means objectionable. But Miss Stearns had left, 
 and gone to live in a flat with some friends, and 
 for a few days the empty bed had been occupied 
 by transients. Nan bore it with as much philos- 
 ophy as she could command, till a new specimen, 
 who called herself Miss Du Bois, arrived. She 
 was a most unprepossessing individual, who was 
 untidy to a degree, and who, to the disappoint- 
 ment of her three room-mates, never spent an
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 12J 
 
 evening out. She was always at home, seated 
 at the table reading books from the circulating 
 library. She kept the light burning till midnight 
 for several nights, till Miss Tarbell remonstrated, 
 when she took the lamp in the closet and read as 
 long as she pleased. Nan grew very nervous. 
 She feared the woman would fall asleep and 
 knock the lamp over. She never slept till Miss 
 Du Bois went to bed, and once in bed she was 
 likely to rise and roam about the room. Once 
 Nan awoke in a fright. Miss Jennings was bury- 
 ing her face in her pillow and shaking like a leaf. 
 Nan sat up in bed too scared to speak. " What 
 is the matter ? " she asked, as soon as she could 
 find her voice. 
 
 " It's that terrible thing, Miss Du Bois. She 
 was standing at the foot of my bed, looking at 
 me." 
 
 "Are you sure you weren't dreaming," whis- 
 pered Nan, patting Miss Jennings as if she were 
 a frightened child. " She is in bed now." 
 
 "Yes; I didn't dare move till she went away. 
 I shall never, never pass another night in this 
 room unless she leaves. I believe she is insane." 
 
 Miss Jennings refused to go back to her bed, 
 so Nan made room for her beside her. The next 
 morning the three, for Miss Tarbell joined them, 
 went to the matron, and asked to have Miss Du 
 Bois removed. The matron promised to make 
 the change, and Miss Du Bois was not there the
 
 128 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 next evening. Still, Nan had a fear of other 
 transients, and she was glad to go with Miss 
 Henshawe. 
 
 Nan worked very faithfully during these last 
 few weeks, for she felt that she might not soon 
 have another opportunity for study. Besides, she 
 did considerable work for The Educational Head- 
 light. The editor was planning his fall numbers, 
 and Nan spent some of her spare time in drawing 
 pumpkins, for a lesson on that vegetable. She 
 also made decorative heads for Thanksgiving and 
 Christmas. She enjoyed the work, and felt that 
 she was improving. 
 
 Soon after she went to stay with Miss Hen- 
 shawe, she received a letter from the Brooklyn 
 lady who had advertised for an amanuensis. 
 Nan had forgotten that she had replied to it, and 
 she was surprised at a request to call at once. 
 Nan went that same afternoon, dressed in her best 
 clothes, as Miss Jamieson had advised. She found 
 that the lady, whose name was Mrs. Richardson, 
 had a few notes to write every day, and her 
 household accounts to keep, and she thought she 
 was overburdened. Nan wrote some letters, filed 
 others, added a few columns of figures, and Mrs. 
 Richardson expressed her satisfaction. When 
 Nan left she had agreed to spend two hours on 
 Tuesdays and Fridays of each week, for which 
 she was to receive three dollars. 
 
 " I can live on this money, and what I can
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 129 
 
 make working for The Educational Headlight ^ and 
 
 I believe I shall dare come back next year," said 
 Nan, as she hailed a car which would take her to 
 the bridge. 
 
 She found her visits at Mrs. Richardson's quite 
 amusing. The lady's husband often came into 
 the boudoir, where Nan sat at her desk. He was 
 a very small man, and his wife was a large and 
 very imposing woman. " Mr. and Mrs. Wilfer," 
 Nan called them at once. He always addressed 
 his wife as Precious, and she, in turn, always called 
 him Treasure. He looked over the expenses of the 
 preceding week, on Tuesday, and invariably said, 
 " Precious, we are spending too much money." 
 At this juncture, Precious would put her hand- 
 kerchief to her eyes, and say she knew that she 
 was an impractical little thing, and that she never 
 ought to have married a man like Treasure. This 
 always brought Treasure on his knees, and a tender 
 scene followed which was very embarrassing to 
 the young lady at the desk. 
 
 Nan and Miss Henshawe got a good deal of 
 fun out of the Richardsons. Miss Henshawe, as 
 head of the house, declared that she was Treas- 
 ure, and if Nan had anything particularly good 
 for dinner, would insist that Precious was spend- 
 ing too much money. If Nan went out and was 
 uncertain about the time of her return, she would 
 pin on the screen, which they called their bulletin 
 board, a note like this : " Treasure, I have gone 
 9
 
 130 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 to Miss Frost's. Back as soon as I can. Pre- 
 cious." 
 
 Altogether, the two girls enjoyed their house- 
 keeping. Nan thoroughly liked Miss Henshawe, 
 for she found that there was much sense behind 
 all the affectation. As Nan told her, she was very 
 sensible when in the bosom of her family, when 
 she forgot to put on airs. 
 
 Miss Frost was a frequent visitor to the studio, 
 more for Nan's sake than Miss Henshawe's, how- 
 ever. They often dined together, Miss Frost and 
 Miss Henshawe taking turns at playing hostess. 
 Mr. Frost stopped on his way to France, and he 
 threw new life into the rather dull existence of 
 the three women. Miss Henshawe frankly ac- 
 knowledged that she simply worshiped him, and 
 she took it for granted that Nan did. Nan did 
 not worship him, she was not even sure that she 
 liked him. He made her feel very small and in- 
 significant and country-bred, and it takes a large 
 stock of the Christian graces to make one like 
 such a person. 
 
 Nan came home one afternoon after her two 
 hours with Precious, to find both Miss and Mr. 
 Frost in the studio, and Miss Henshawe in the 
 act of displaying her pictures, Nan's very own 
 pictures. The portraits were standing on the 
 couch, in the order in which they were painted, 
 and Miss Henshawe was pointing out the improve- 
 ment in the work since September.
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 131 
 
 Nan was angry. Her poor little pictures ! She 
 had firmly refused to let Mr. Frost see her work, 
 and now Clara Henshawe was showing the things 
 of which she was most ashamed. Nan slipped 
 out of the studio, hoping that no one had seen 
 her, and shut herself in her room. The Frosts did 
 not see her, but Miss Henshawe did, and she fol- 
 lowed her. 
 
 "Are you ill, Nan ? Oh, say, you are not angry 
 because I showed your pictures? How silly you 
 are. I am proud of your progress, and I just got 
 them out, that is all. It was all my fault. The 
 Frosts had nothing to do with it. If you don't 
 stop looking at me that way I'll drown myself 
 and be ' a body, a moist, damp, unpleasant body,' " 
 and Miss Henshawe struck a dramatic attitude. 
 
 Nan laughed, Miss Henshawe was so ridiculous. 
 
 " It looks so vain of me, as if I wanted to show 
 my poor little pictures. I don't mind Miss Frost, 
 but I do mind that big Frost man. He has been 
 everywhere, and seen everything, and done every- 
 thing, and what can he see in my miserable little 
 daubs? " 
 
 " Sits the wind in that quarter ? " thought Miss 
 Henshawe. " He seems to enjoy looking at them. 
 He says you have a future, and he is the last man 
 to encourage a girl to go on with art unless he 
 thinks she ought to. Wait, and I'll tell you what 
 I heard him say. I was lugging out more can- 
 vases, he was looking at that portrait of the
 
 132 Annie e Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 Italian girl and he kept looking at it, and whis- 
 tled. He always does that when he is pleased. 
 Then he said, ' Jess, my dear, you knew what 
 you were about when you brought this little girl 
 down from the country.' 
 
 " ' She has it in her,' said Miss Frost. 
 
 " ' She has it in her, and, what is more to the point, 
 she can bring it out on canvas. Paris, I should say, 
 after a year or two more. Watch her closely, and 
 don't let her get any mannerisms ; young painters 
 are so apt to copy someone's faults. She has a 
 straight-out-from-the-shoulder style of painting 
 which I like. Oh, yes, she has it in her, but she 
 is too good-looking for a single woman, and she'll 
 marry and spoil it all.' 
 
 " So there, Miss Annice Wynkoop." 
 
 " No, I won't marry and spoil it all," said Nan. 
 " Since you really overheard all this, you dear old 
 eavesdropper, I must believe Mr. Frost meant it. 
 And he knows too much about pictures to be 
 entirely mistaken. Clara Henshawe, I am coming 
 back next year. I don't know how I shall live, 
 but I'm coming as sure as the autumn comes." 
 
 " Good girl. You'll get along, with health and 
 courage, and I'll be proud of you yet. Did you 
 do any marketing ? " asked Miss Henshawe, sud- 
 denly coming down to practical life. 
 
 " My dear, I forgot it. I'll go right out." 
 
 "No, I'll go. You look utterly used up. Lie 
 still, and as soon as the Frosts are gone I'll rush
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 133 
 
 out and get something that I know enough to 
 cook. I believe that Brooklyn trip tires you more 
 than anything else you do." 
 
 Nan was so tired that she was obedient. She 
 lay quietly, but her thoughts were very busy 
 building air-castles. Mr. Frost's praise meant a 
 great deal to her, and she felt that she was repaid 
 for her hard work of the winter. " Oh, I must 
 come back next year, I must," she cried, with her 
 face buried in the pillow. " I want to come back 
 more than I wanted to come at first. I can paint, 
 I knew I could, and I am so glad and thankful." 
 
 When Miss Henshawe called Nan to dinner 
 the table presented a festive appearance. There 
 was one splendid red rose in a tall jar by way 
 of decoration, and the substantial part of the feast 
 consisted of roast chicken and green peas. On 
 the tiny buffet Clara had placed her one cut-glass 
 dish, which was filled with strawberries. 
 
 " Why, it's a spread," cried Nan. " Clara Hen- 
 shawe, you don't mean to say that you cooked 
 that chicken ! " 
 
 " Delicatessen store," replied Miss Henshawe, 
 laconically. " It's in honor of you. I am so 
 puffed up with pride and conceit over Mr. Frost's 
 opinion of your work that I had to do something 
 to celebrate. I could have hugged that man ; he's 
 an angel." 
 
 " Perhaps he would have enjoyed the hugging," 
 said Nan, beginning to carve the chicken.
 
 134 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 " I was afraid he would prefer someone else." 
 
 " I don't know anyone but you who has any 
 desire to be so demonstrative. For my part, I'm 
 much obliged to him for this chicken. I'm as 
 hungry as a bear. The peas are very nice, and 
 you didn't burn the potatoes." 
 
 "You are so patronizing. I'll burn them yet, 
 if you miss anything. I'm really improving in 
 my cooking ; I can see it whether you do or not. 
 Mr. Frost sails Wednesday." 
 
 " So I understood. Your sudden changes of 
 subject are sometimes a trifle perplexing, Clara." 
 
 " He and Miss Frost are going sketching up 
 the Bronx Saturday, and we are invited. That 
 is, I suppose, Miss Wynkoop is invited, and Miss 
 Henshawe is asked because it wouldn't be polite 
 to leave her out. I'm going, whether I'm invited 
 or not." 
 
 " It is good for you to be humble," said Nan, 
 passing a saucer of berries. " Is it a kind of a 
 picnic ?" 
 
 " Yes, I imagine so. There will be a row on 
 the river, and more or less painting by the 
 geniuses of the party, and a general good time. 
 What shall we wear ? " 
 
 " Blue serge jacket and skirt and a shirt waist. 
 It is so comfortable to have only one dress. It 
 saves one's brain for other problems. Now you, 
 who have several dresses, will lie awake to-night 
 thinking which to wear."
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 135 
 
 " If I were as good-looking as you are, Nan 
 VVynkoop, I wouldn't think twice about clothes, 
 but as it is, or as I am, rather 
 
 " Really, Clara, I'll wash the dishes without all 
 that flattery. Don't be so exceedingly personal, 
 that's a dear, good child." 
 
 " I'm glad you are handsome, and I don't see 
 any harm in mentioning it, now and then. As I 
 often tell you, you deserve no credit for your 
 good looks. I'll dry the dishes for you, then I'll 
 show you the work I did to-day. It's good in its 
 humble way, though no one has raved over it."
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 "A PERFECTLY ideal day," was Miss Henshawe's 
 verdict, as she reached the studio on the evening 
 of the day she called " Bronx day." " It was 
 simply perfect, wasn't it, Nan ? Will you give 
 me that little yellow pillow ? It's in the big 
 chair. I hate to bother you, but I'm so comfort- 
 able that I'd rather do it than move." 
 
 " You have at least seven pillows on that couch," 
 said Nan, throwing her the yellow one. 
 
 " I need eight, and this one just fits into the 
 most tired place. Wasn't it a lovely day ? " 
 
 " I don't know," said Nan, almost crossly. " I'm 
 all stung with mosquitoes till I shouldn't recog- 
 nize myself if I looked in the glass, I've taken the 
 skin off my hands rowing, and I quarreled with 
 Mr. Parrish. I believe I'm cross." 
 
 " I know it, child. I have realized it for the 
 last three-quarters of an hour, and I suspected it 
 all the way down town. What is the matter? 
 Did Mr. Frost make love to you ? " 
 
 "Clara Henshawe!" 
 
 " You needn't yell at me like that, I merely 
 asked for information. I'm sure I thought he 
 did ; he looked like a man who was making love- 
 '36
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist* 137 
 
 At least, he looked as I suppose a man looks 
 when he makes love. It is so long since I saw 
 one do it I have almost forgotten, more's the pity. 
 I don't see why you look so indignant. You 
 might rather feel complimented at the suggestion. 
 I wish he would fall in love with me, he would 
 have a prosperous wooing." 
 
 "Clara Henshawe, I don't see how you can say 
 such brazen things. You make me blush for 
 you." 
 
 " Oh, you needn't take the trouble. I don't 
 see any harm in my saying things when I think 
 them. I simply adore Teddy Frost, bless him !" 
 And Miss Henshawe blew a kiss from the tips of 
 her fingers. 
 
 " What did you go and blister your hands for ? " 
 Miss Henshawe said after a few moments' silence. 
 " I saw you rowing as if you meant to get your 
 living by it. I sat still and let Basil Parrish row 
 me around." 
 
 No answer from Nan, and Miss Henshawe 
 started afresh. 
 
 " Did you and Mr. Frost quarrel ? " 
 
 " No ; what an idea. What would we quarrel 
 over ? I hope when I quarrel I'll know enough to 
 select some one of my own caliber, like Mr. Par- 
 rish, for instance." 
 
 " Then, what in goodness' name ails you ? Are 
 you ill?" 
 
 " No ; Clara, if you must know. I feel a little
 
 138 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 sad to-night. This seems like the end of so much 
 to me. Miss Frost is going away next week, and 
 I leave, myself, very soon. I don't know that I 
 shall ever come back. Of course I want to see 
 my people, and I long to spend a summer home, 
 but this life suits me so entirely that my heart 
 is broken when I realize that this may be the last 
 of it." Nan's voice was rather shaky before she 
 finished speaking, and she gathered up her jacket, 
 hat, and gloves, and went to her room and threw 
 herself on her bed. She lay there an hour or so, 
 thinking, thinking. At last she rose and went 
 out to Clara. 
 
 "I was very selfish to leave you. I know you 
 are lonely." 
 
 " Never mind. I had a nap while you were 
 gone. But I am wide-awake now and ready for 
 a talk. Lie down here, there is plenty of room, 
 and I'll give you half my pillows. 
 
 " Nan, I believe that man loves you." 
 
 Nan jumped to her feet. " What man ? " 
 
 " Of whom were we talking a little while ago ? 
 Mr. Frost, of course." 
 
 " Clara, I don't see why you persist in talking 
 in this fashion. I'm not so foolish as to think 
 all you think. Your imagination runs away with 
 you." 
 
 "Nothing of the kind. I can tell the signs. 
 I've seen Theodore Frost a great many times 
 during the last four years, but I have never seen
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 139 
 
 the look in his eyes that I saw to-day more than 
 once, and when he was looking at you, too." 
 
 " Then he is a flirt. Perhaps he thinks that I 
 am a green little girl from the country, and he 
 can amuse himself with me. Clara, I wish you 
 hadn't put that idea into my head." 
 
 "I didn't ; I put a very different idea there, or 
 I tried to ; but you wouldn't harbor it. /didn't 
 say hard things about somebody who has just 
 given me a perfect day." 
 
 " I didn't want to say hard things till you made 
 me. I didn't really think them. It is just this 
 way, Clara. Miss Frost really likes me, and she 
 has been more than good to me. Mr. Frost is 
 very devoted to his sister, and he tries to be 
 especially nice to her protegee. This, I repeat, is 
 all there is of it, and " 
 
 " What do you mean by ' it ? '" 
 
 " What you have just been talking of, of course. 
 Clara, don't be so hateful. I haven't a soul here 
 but you, and you make me very uncomfy." 
 
 Miss Henshawe turned and smoothed the tum- 
 bled head. " It shan't be made uncomfortable. 
 The big man doesn't like it, and he didn't look 
 at it as if he wanted to say all kinds of things, 
 and nobody shall ever hint at such a thing again." 
 
 "You are too ridiculous, Clara. I don't know 
 why I like you. But I do, and I shall be wanting 
 to see you in Macedonia long before you come." 
 
 " Good child. Is Mr. Bamford there ? "
 
 140 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 " I suppose so, yes. He always is. Why ? " 
 
 " I was wondering if he left during the sum- 
 mer?" 
 
 " No ; he and his mother keep house in Mace- 
 donia." 
 
 " What are you going to do with him this sum- 
 mer?" 
 
 " Nothing. Why, again ? " 
 
 " Oh, because I'm afraid he'll make you stay 
 up there. That man has an awful will. If he 
 liked me and I didn't like him, I should be afraid 
 of him." 
 
 " I'm not. He hasn't the shadow of a claim on 
 me. If he begins to take matters for granted, 
 and set the Macedonians to thinking we are en- 
 gaged I'll make it very plain that we are not." 
 
 " Poor Mr. Bamford ! " 
 
 " No ; it's poor Nan Wynkoop. I don't see 
 why he should set his heart on me, when there 
 are plenty of girls in Macedonia who would be 
 very nice to him. I suppose I've got to hear a 
 great deal of nonsense about woman's sphere. 
 No, I won't. I'm going to be as hateful as I 
 can." 
 
 " Poor Mr. Bamford ! " 
 
 " Clara, you must be in a sentimental mood. 
 You always are ; you must be more sentimental 
 than ever." 
 
 " I am, a little. Nannie, wouldn't it be nice if 
 we could go abroad this summer?"
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 141 
 
 " I haven't imagination enough to consider 
 such a thing. I don't suppose I'll be able to 
 go for forty-seven years. I hope you will, 
 though." 
 
 " Didn't Mr. Frost tell you that he wished you 
 were going ? " 
 
 " Yes. What of it ? He wanted to be polite." 
 
 " Of course. Didn't we have a nice day, Nan? 
 Own up, now." 
 
 " Of course we did. I told them so. } hope I 
 know enough to show that I am grateful for my 
 mercies." 
 
 " It was nice. There was the row on the river, 
 and the lunch al fresco, and then we all sketched, 
 and sat around and told stories ; then we had din- 
 ner at that dear little French restaurant. O dear, 
 when shall we five meet again ? Next fall, I sup- 
 pose. Are you asleep, Nan?" 
 
 "Almost. It wasn't polite of me, when you 
 were talking. But I can imagine what you were 
 saying." 
 
 " Oh, you haven't lost much. It's time we were 
 going to bed, Annice Wynkoop." 
 
 " So it is. I'm more tired than if I had painted 
 all morning and been to Brooklyn in the after- 
 noon." 
 
 The Frosts were to sail on Wednesday, at three 
 o'clock. Nan was coming up from school at 
 noon, when she saw a carriage standing before
 
 142 Annicc Wynkoop^ Artist. 
 
 her door. As she stepped into the vestibule she 
 ran against Mr. Frost. 
 
 " Oh, well met, Miss Wynkoop. I've been 
 ringing your bell for the last five minutes. Jessica 
 is in the carriage ; we stopped to get you and 
 take you to the steamer to see us off. You'll go, 
 I hope." 
 
 Miss Frost put her head out of the carriage, 
 and added her request to her brother's. 
 
 " Of course, I shall be glad to go," Nan replied. 
 " I'll run up and leave my traps," for she had a 
 book and some brushes in her hands. 
 
 She was only gone a moment, but in that mo- 
 ment she had smoothed the rebellious hair, 
 changed her gloves, and brushed her dress. 
 
 Miss Frost took her hand in hers, and held it 
 for a block or two before releasing it. 
 
 " We were so afraid you would be out," she 
 said. " It was stupid of me not to think of this 
 before. I wish you were going with me, but one 
 of these days you shall." 
 
 "Oh, that is too much to hope for, even for 
 such a castle-builder as I am," said Nan, smiling 
 back into Miss Frost's eyes. 
 
 " ' Hitch your wagon to a star, 1 " quoted Mr. 
 Frost. " You have simply got to study in Paris, 
 so you may as well get accustomed to the idea. 
 You see your friends will insist on expecting 
 great things from that palette of yours." 
 
 " It's a most uncomfortable feeling to know
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 143 
 
 that one's friends are so complimentary that they 
 expect too much of one," said Nan. 
 
 " Modesty is a refreshing spectacle in this de- 
 generate age. Jess, my girl, take your last look 
 at New York ; we are almost at the wharf." 
 
 " I know it. I'll stand on the deck and watch 
 the dear old city fade out of sight." 
 
 " Nonsense ! You might rather stand with me 
 in the bow of the boat and watch the old world 
 dawn on you. I shan't draw a natural breath till 
 I see Paris." 
 
 A few moments later the three stood on the 
 deck together. There was plenty of time, and 
 as Nan had never before been on an ocean-liner, 
 Miss Frost and her brother showed her all over 
 the ship. Presently other friends of Miss Frost's 
 came on board and she was deluged with flowers 
 and baskets of fruit. 
 
 "And I never so much as brought you a carna- 
 tion," said Nan to her in a whisper, "and you 
 have done so much for me. I wish I had whole 
 bushels of sweet wild flowers from our meadows 
 at home." 
 
 " I would rather have a bunch of flowers from 
 your meadows than these, they don't mean any- 
 thing. These people send them because every- 
 body sends flowers to everybody when they sail. 
 I've sent them myself. But your wild flowers 
 would be sent because you loved me, I flatter 
 myself."
 
 144 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 " I do," said Nan. " I think about you by day 
 and dream about you by night. You won't for- 
 get me while you are away ? Whenever I hope 
 for any success in my work you are somehow 
 woven in with it. I don't believe I ever can do 
 anything unless I am near you." 
 
 " Why, child, I didn't dream that I was all this 
 to you. You dear little Nan Wynkoop." 
 
 " Why are you calling Miss Wynkoop names, 
 and why do you have tears in your eyes ? This 
 will never do. I shan't take a teary woman to 
 Paris with me. Go and speak to the Atkins, Jess, 
 they have just come on, and in the meantime I'll 
 take Miss Wynkoop for a promenade, so that 
 she'll get an idea what pacing a steamer's deck is 
 like, before she sails- for Paris. We have just 
 fifteen minutes left before the call to go ashore." 
 
 " Oh, let me say good-by to Miss Frost and 
 go now. I'm afraid I shall be left." 
 
 " No ; in that case you would be taken. If 
 you go ashore you'll be left. Don't worry. I'll 
 see that you get off in time. Now we'll pretend 
 we are in mid-ocean, on our way to Paris." 
 
 They walke d only a few rods, however, then 
 they stood looking seaward. Nan sniffed the salt 
 air, and felt adventurous, as adventurous as she 
 did on that spring morning when she decided to 
 go to New York. She would, she must go to 
 Paris. The hope was worth living for ; mean- 
 time,
 
 Annicc Wynkoop, Artist. 145 
 
 Mr. Frost's voice brought her to herself. 
 
 " I beg pardon, Mr. Frost." 
 
 " I was asking you the name of that town of 
 yours up in the hills." 
 
 " Macedonia." 
 
 " Macedonia. When I was a little fellow and 
 used to go to Sunday-school, we sang a tune begin- 
 ning, 'There's a cry from Macedonia, come and help 
 us.' I shall remember your town by that tune." 
 
 " It's a great town," said Nan, for the sake of 
 saying something. 
 
 " Would a bit of Paris reach you safely if di- 
 rected to you at Macedonia, N. Y.? Say a bit of 
 a sketch which might give you some sort of a 
 poor idea how Paris will look to you by and by." 
 
 " Oh, yes, thank you very much. It would 
 reach me. There, I must go ! See, people are 
 going ashore." 
 
 " There is still time, but if you are nervous I'll 
 take you now." 
 
 " I am a little nervous. Oh, there is Miss 
 Frost." 
 
 The two women clasped each other, then Nan 
 went down the gangway, and in a moment she was 
 on the wharf, waving her hand to Miss Frost. Just 
 then came the call, " All aboard and all ashore." 
 Mr. Frost shook hands, said his good wishes for 
 a pleasant summer, and disappeared up the gang 
 plank. The great ship started on her way, and Nan 
 went home, seeing visions and dreaming dreams. 
 10
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 NAN had borne the separation from home and 
 her people very well, but once on the train she 
 could scarcely wait till the old brown house was 
 reached. Long before the train neared her sta- 
 tion, she closed her bag, closed her book, but- 
 toned her jacket, and sat ready to leave the car. 
 The station lay about a mile beyond the Wyn- 
 koop farm, and Nan flattened her nose against 
 the window to get a glimpse of the thirty-acre lot, 
 as the train skirted past it. The stone fence was 
 bordered with wild cherry trees, whose fruit was 
 already turning red. Nan smiled as she remem- 
 bered the dresses she had torn and the shoes she 
 had " scuffed " in climbing those trees. She could 
 not see the house from the train, but she could 
 get a glimpse of the barn, and she saw the cows 
 coming down the road to be milked. " The dear 
 home," she said to herself, and happy tears filled 
 her eyes. 
 
 When the train stopped at her station her 
 father was there, standing by the head of the old 
 white horse. Nan smiled. Billy had long ago 
 ceased to be able to run away. There were sev- 
 eral people on the platform, whom Nan knew, but 
 146
 
 Annies Wynkoop, Artist. 147 
 
 she passed them without recognition, and rushed 
 up to her father, throwing her arms around his 
 neck. 
 
 " It seems good to see you, Nan, child," Mr. 
 Wynkoop said, " and I declare you seem glad to 
 see me. I didn't know but I might be too up-coun- 
 try for such a citified young lady. Stand still, 
 Billy, will you ? You look taller than you did 
 last fall, but aren't you a little peaked ? " 
 
 " I am thin, but I'll soon get back any flesh I 
 have lost, now that I am home again." As she 
 spoke Nan put her foot on the step of the old 
 " Democrat " wagon. 
 
 " Wait a minute, Nannie. Mr. Bamford is here. 
 He came with a fine rig from the livery to get 
 you. I told him that it was all right, he could 
 take you and I would take the trunk." 
 
 " He will do nothing of the kind. Who wants 
 his fine rig? I'm going with you, of course. If 
 he is anxious to take something he can take the 
 trunk," said Nan, speaking with some temper. 
 
 " Ssh ! There he comes. You haven't lost 
 your spunk, I see." And Mr. Wynkoop looked 
 as if he would have been sorry had Nan come home 
 without it. 
 
 " Welcome home, Annice ! " Mr. Bamford was 
 going to take both Nan's hands, but he got a frigid 
 shake from one. She was angry at his coming to 
 meet her and escort her home in state. She knew 
 that in Macedonia it would be equivalent to an
 
 148 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 announcement of their engagement, and she could 
 fancy the people looking from windows along the 
 road and commenting upon them. 
 
 "You are looking better than when I saw you 
 in New York last winter," Mr. Bamford remarked, 
 as he and Nan stood together while Mr. Wyn- 
 koop was looking after her trunk. " Will there 
 be room in the wagon for both you and your 
 trunk? You would better let me drive you 
 home?" 
 
 " Oh, yes, there is plenty of room, I couldn't 
 think of letting you take so much trouble," Nan 
 replied in a manner which would have caused Miss 
 Henshawe to fall into hysterics. 
 
 The trunk was in the wagon at last, and Nan 
 climbed in, assisted by the professor. 
 
 " Good evening, Mr. Bamford. Come in some 
 time when you are passing, and I will show you 
 my pictures. 
 
 " There ! I am even with him for calling me 
 Annice so that every one on the platform could 
 hear it, and making such a show of coming after 
 me," said Nan to herself. 
 
 " You were pretty hard on the teacher," said 
 her father as they drove away. " Get up, Billy. 
 Ma and the girls will be wondering where we are 
 staying." 
 
 " He needs setting down." Nan referred to 
 Mr. Bamford, not to Billy. " It isn't his place to 
 meet me and drive me home. I've never given
 
 Annite Wynkoop, Artist. 149) 
 
 him any reason to think he has any rights where 
 I am concerned. I wouldn't be placed in a false 
 position, and that is why I was so short with 
 him." 
 
 Mr. Wynkoop turned and stared at the young 
 woman by his side. Last summer she would not 
 have spoken in this decided fashion. Then she 
 made fun of the teacher and caricatured him, but 
 he had supposed " it would make a match." He 
 was surprised at this turn of affairs, but he was 
 not disappointed. As he frequently told his wife, 
 he didn't want any of his girls to marry unless 
 they were sure they wanted to. One thing he 
 knew, Nan had changed during the last year. 
 
 She had changed, and she knew it. If she had 
 ever been in doubt about her feeling toward Mr. 
 Bamford, she was no longer undecided. She re- 
 spected him, and if he would have continued only 
 a friend she would have liked him ; but he could 
 never be anything more. A face came up before 
 her, and crowded out the thought of every other 
 man. It was a face which was hard to read, and 
 which wore a dozen different expressions in an 
 hour, but it would always be the one face in the 
 world to her. The last few days had wrought a 
 great change in Nan. She was a woman now ; 
 she loved. It was an awful thing to confess to 
 herself that she had given her heart where it had 
 not been asked. It might mean a life of crushing 
 sorrow, but Nan accepted it. Her life might be
 
 150 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 bare and lonely, but it would be sweeter than if 
 she had never had this experience. She would 
 do her work in the world to the best of her 
 ability. She would be a good woman, and no 
 one should know that she had a story locked in 
 her heart. 
 
 Nan kept going over this ground all the way 
 home. Billy stopped occasionally to browse at 
 the bushes along the roadside, so the journey 
 took some time. Nan answered her father when 
 he spoke, but her train of thought was not inter- 
 rupted. 
 
 Charlotte met them at the top of the hill, and 
 Nan got out of the wagon and walked with her 
 the rest of the way. Charlotte was evidently very 
 glad to see Nan, and she bore her no ill-will for 
 going to New York. Emma Anna and her 
 mother stood at the gate. Nan kissed Emma 
 Anna first, but she wound her young arms about 
 her mother's neck and kept them there, while 
 they said words to each other which the others did 
 not hear. Harriet was not there, and Nan missed 
 her. It was the one thing lacking in her home- 
 coming. 
 
 After bathing her face and brushing her hair 
 in her own room, Nan went down to supper. 
 Times might be hard with the Wynkoops, but 
 the mother had furnished the equivalent to the 
 fatted calf. Nan praised everything, and ate 
 almost to her mother's satisfaction.
 
 Annie e Wynkoop, Artist. t$t 
 
 It seemed to Nan that everyone in the family 
 looked thin and worried, especially her mother, 
 and she asked if anything was wrong. 
 
 " Ma's been kind of peaked all spring," Mr. 
 Wynkoop replied, "but she'll be all right now 
 that she's got her baby back." 
 
 After supper Nan went out into the tangled 
 old flower garden. Nothing changed there from 
 year to year. The myrtle came up every spring 
 and bordered the flower-beds ; the purple fleur- 
 de-lys bloomed by the back gate, and .the old- 
 fashioned pink roses put forth their sweetness 
 every year, and the ribbon-grass did its best to 
 crowd everything else out. 
 
 " It's all in a tangle," said her mother, who had 
 come up behind her. " I'd have liked to clear it 
 up before you came, but I couldn't seem to find 
 the time." 
 
 " I wouldn't want it changed, mother. It looks 
 just right to me. We'll work in it together and 
 take out some weeds. I see you are going to 
 have plenty of nasturtiums by-and-by. I love 
 the dear, peppery things. Oh, I'm glad, glad, 
 glad, that I'm going to be home so many 
 weeks." 
 
 " I'm glad that you care for your home, Nan- 
 nie. It's a plain place, but I have taken a great 
 deal of comfort here." 
 
 The air was very sweet and fresh, and Nan 
 was loath to return to the house. It had been
 
 152 A nnice Wynkoop, A rtist. 
 
 very hot in the city a few days before she left, 
 and she had longed for the breeze from her own 
 hills. She walked on to the barn, and then into 
 the barn-yard, where her father was milking. Her 
 mother went to the house and came back with a 
 glass, so that Nan could have a drink of warm 
 milk. " You will soon get the roses back in 
 your cheeks if you drink milk enough," she said. 
 
 Nan drank the milk, then she and her mother 
 strolled around the garden, looking at the vege- 
 tables, and talking over the happenings of the 
 year. It began to grow dark, the stars came out 
 one by one, and the noises of the night began to 
 be heard ; the bull-frogs peeped in a neighboring 
 pond. 
 
 " Emma Anna and Charlotte were reading by 
 the sitting-room lamp when Nan went in, but 
 they put their books aside 
 
 " I've had a splendid walk," and Nan sank down 
 in the depths of the roomy old lounge. " I'm a 
 regular country-girl, and I'm glad of it. When I 
 get 'through studying I'm going to live where I 
 can hear bull-frogs and see lovely shadows. I 
 can't wait till morning, I want to do things. 
 I feel very young to-night, and I want to do all 
 the nice things I used to do. Is it too late to 
 make a willow whistle? I want to make one, 
 and sit on the big gate-post and toot on it and 
 scare old Billy. I want to eat sassafras and 
 birch and wintergreen berries, anything Indian
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 153 
 
 and woodsy. I want to make a corn-stalk fiddle, 
 and a wigwam out of the whole stocks of corn- 
 stalks, and I want a pumpkin so I can make a 
 jack-o'-lantern. I'm not sure of it that I don't 
 want to make mud-pies. It's good to be home, 
 and to be just Nan Wynkoop. I'm tired of being 
 grown-up Miss Wynkoop. Do you think I'm 
 crazy, mother ? " 
 
 Mrs. Wynkoop leaned over from the Boston 
 rocker and patted the girl's shoulder, and Mr. 
 Wynkoop put , aside the county paper, and list- 
 ened to the " youngest," as she told of all the ex- 
 periences of the last few months. 
 
 When the clock struck nine Mrs. Wynkoop 
 sent Nan to bed. Charlotte came to her door 
 and insisted on unpacking her trunk. This was 
 almost too much for Nan; Charlotte had always 
 been so dignified, and had treated Nan like a 
 child. Charlotte handled Nan's canvases with 
 much respect, and said she was anxious to see the 
 pictures by daylight. When the trunk was empty 
 she said good-night, but came back to add that 
 she was glad that Nan was home. . 
 
 Nan opened the little white bed, meaning to 
 fall asleep at once. But instead she opened a 
 portfolio, and took from it a parcel, carefully 
 wrapped and sealed. On it was written : " May 
 12, 189 . Not to be opened for one year." 
 
 "I'll open it just this once, and seal it again," 
 Nan said, apologizing to herself. "After to-night
 
 154 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 I will be very good and put all this behind 
 me." 
 
 It was a portrait, done from memory, but a 
 very faithful likeness of the face which had 
 haunted Nan on the drive home. 
 
 " I' m silly ; I know I am silly ; but he will 
 never know, and it makes me very happy to have 
 the picture. But I will put it away for a whole 
 year, and I'll try to get over this. I'll know by 
 the time the year is over whether I can be cured 
 or not." 
 
 Nan sealed the parcel and put it in the bottom 
 of her trunk. I am afraid that she sat for a long 
 time at the window when she should have been 
 asleep. To sit in the moonlight and think is not 
 the surest way to teach oneself to forget things 
 which should be forgotten. But Nan was not a 
 perfectly sensible young woman. The model 
 young woman would never have painted the por- 
 trait in the sealed parcel. 
 
 Nan awoke in the morning with a sense of loss 
 which surprised herself. Her dreams had been of 
 painting great pictures, and of straying through 
 long galleries lined with paintings. She awoke 
 to find herself in her little green-and-white room, 
 and to realize that toil must come before any 
 triumph could be possible. She gave herself a 
 mental shake, and she soon had her bearings. 
 
 The day was bright and sunny, and she felt her 
 spirits quicken. It was good to be alive ; work
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 155 
 
 was good for* woman as well as for man. She 
 was glad that so much hard toil lay ahead of her. 
 
 No one but Mrs. Wynkoop was downstairs, 
 and she was making biscuits for breakfast. She 
 was surprised to see Nan down so early, and 
 anxiously inquired if she had slept well. Nan 
 went through the rooms, opening windows, and 
 letting in the sunshine. Emma Anna came down 
 presently, and laid the table for breakfast, while 
 Charlotte tied her head up in a gingham apron, 
 and swept the sitting-room. The biscuits were 
 done by the time Mr. Wynkoop had milked, and 
 Nan went to call him to breakfast. 
 
 After the meal the family demanded the pic- 
 tures, and Nan unpacked them and set them 
 around the room. She felt that her people were 
 disappointed. All the pictures were portraits, 
 which seemed to surprise Mr. Wynkoop, and he 
 asked if she had painted any scenery. Mrs. Wyn- 
 koop remarked that no doubt the pictures were 
 well painted, but the models must have been very 
 plain. She wished she had a landscape to hang 
 in the parlor, and if Nan ever painted any fruit- 
 pieces she would like one for the dining-room. 
 Anna Raymond had a fruit-piece, with the most 
 perfect pears and grapes, and she couldn't begin 
 to paint as well as Nan. 
 
 Nan resolved that the first thing she painted 
 would be a fruit-piece to hang in the parlor. She 
 knew that she had made great improvement dur-
 
 156 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 ing the year, yet she could understand the disap. 
 pointment of her father and mother. Harriet 
 would see the improvement, and Nan felt that she 
 could not wait till she came. 
 
 She came in the afternoon, and Nan met her 
 long before she reached home. They sat down 
 by the roadside and talked till a shower came up 
 and drove them home. 
 
 Nan took Harriet up to her little room, where 
 she had shown her pictures on the day when she 
 decided to go to New York. There were better 
 pictures now, and Harriet was quick to see the 
 change. 
 
 " Oh, Harriet, you are such a comfort to me. 
 The others are disappointed ; they expected pic- 
 tures which they could show to the neighbors and 
 hang in the parlor, and instead they are negro 
 men and Italian boys and homely women, as I 
 overheard mother saying to Emma Anna. I was 
 so proud of the way I painted the skin of that 
 colored man, and I got such a splendid criticism 
 on it. The instructor held it up before the class 
 and said it was excellent. I was as proud as a 
 peacock, and all the girls were jealous. But I am 
 sorry that mother is disappointed, and I wish I 
 had painted some plaques with flowers for her 
 to show to the neighbors." 
 
 " I understand you, and I understand father and 
 mother," assented Harriet. " They are just a 
 little proud of the daughter who has been study-
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 157 
 
 ing art in New York, and they want to show your 
 work when people come in. Mother has been 
 saying that she hoped you would paint a fruit- 
 piece to hang in the dining-room." 
 
 " I wish you had told me." 
 
 " I wish I had, but I didn't suppose you would 
 care so much about her disappointment." 
 
 " Harrie ! Have I been so selfish?" 
 
 " No ; but I knew you were absorbed in your 
 work. You can paint something for mother now." 
 
 " I will, I'll paint a fruit-piece at once. There 
 is nothing to paint yet but cherries, but I'll do 
 peaches and grapes later. I'll do a great big pic- 
 ture, and she shall have any kind of fruit that 
 grows if she likes. Dear mother ! Harriet, have 
 you noticed how worried they all look ? " 
 
 " No ; I have seen no change. Perhaps I 
 wouldn't notice it, for I see them every week. 
 No one is ill, but they all are more or less poorly, 
 as father says. Every one of us would look and 
 feel better if our prospects were brighter." 
 
 " It would encourage them if I took the Pine 
 Ridge school, I know." 
 
 " No, Nannie ; that needn't be. It is an un- 
 necessary sacrifice. You must go back to New 
 York. I have set my heart on that. You are the 
 only one in the family who has any talent, and 
 we must not tie your hands. It's an awful thing 
 to want to express oneself and not to be able, to 
 have something crying out within one to be said
 
 158 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 and done, and to have no way to say or do it. I 
 have felt that for ten years, but I can't write or 
 paint or make a statue. I have the creative in- 
 stinct, and no means of expressing myself. You 
 have both, and you shall learn to express your- 
 self. It shall be my one luxury to help you do 
 this. I have been corresponding with Miss 
 Frost, and I am satisfied that any money I 
 invest in you will bring me a good rate of inter- 
 est. I stood back this year and left you to help 
 yourself, because I wanted to see if you loved 
 your art enough to suffer for it. I think you do. 
 So you must go back. We shall do very well 
 here at home, and you must not worry. Per- 
 haps, by and by, you may be able to help us 
 more than you could now, and with much less 
 sacrifice to yourself. So rest this summer and 
 get all your strength back, so you will be ready 
 for next year's work." 
 
 " Harriet, you are the soul of generosity. I'll 
 go back very gladly, but I can't let you pay all 
 my expenses. I can do a great deal for myself, 
 and I shall let you make up what I lack. Even 
 that seems too much to take. You have nothing 
 in your life but hard work, and you should use 
 your money to bring some brightness to yourself." 
 
 " I'll have the brightness when you are a suc- 
 cessful artist. I talk this over with you at once, 
 for I want you to have your mind at rest. You 
 look tired, and I hope you'll do nothing but live
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 159 
 
 out of doors and be lazy till you are sure you are 
 entirely rested. I'm glad to have you at home 
 once more, pussy ; " and Harriet kissed Nan 
 good-night in a shamefaced way. The Wyn- 
 koop family had a terror of any demonstration. 
 
 Nan began the " fruit-piece " at once, and it 
 was soon hanging on the dining-room wall. This, 
 with two " flower-pieces," which she presented to 
 Emma Anna and Charlotte, were exhibited to 
 the neighbors by her family as the fruit of her 
 winter's work in New York. 
 
 These visits of the neighbors were a great trial 
 to Nan. They presumed that of course she 
 would stay at home and teach. Several girls 
 wished to take painting lessons, and no doubt 
 she could " get up " a class. Harriet gave out at 
 once that Nan was going back to New York in 
 September, and everybody wondered how Har- 
 riet could afford it. It was understood that Nan 
 must have used all of her Aunt Annice's money, 
 " board was so high in New York, and paints cost 
 considerable." 
 
 The paintings of fruit and flowers were very 
 much admired, and, toNan's surprise, she had sev- 
 eral orders for similar pictures. This work brought 
 her quite a little revenue, which she hoarded 
 up toward next year's expenses. She could 
 paint a picture in a little while, and she worked 
 at fruit and flowers when she was in no mood to 
 do what she called legitimate painting.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 NAN had been at home several days before 
 Mr. Bamford called. He met her with a some- 
 what constrained manner, and he seemed ill at 
 ease. Nan was sorry that she had been so short 
 to him on the day of her return, and she tried to 
 make amends by being very pleasant now. 
 Naturally, she talked of her winter's work, and 
 when Mr. Bamford asked to see her pictures she 
 brought some of them down. 
 
 " Don't you think I have improved? I am not 
 asking this because I am vain, but I have worked 
 very hard, and I hope there is improvement. 
 You are not like the neighbors around here, who 
 call a spray of golden rod on a panel of red plush 
 a work of art." 
 
 " There is no doubt that there is much im- 
 provement. You are all artist. As for me, I am 
 only a man, and I can't find it in my heart to be 
 glad. I thought perhaps this year would prove 
 to you that you had no particular talent for 
 painting, and you would be willing to come home 
 and be a woman instead of an artist. The world 
 needs more women ; it can do very well without 
 
 artists. I hoped I must own that I hoped 
 1 60
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 161 
 
 you would not succeed. But you have, and your 
 art is all in all to you. I can see it in your 
 eyes. You are changed, and I love you better 
 than ever, Annice." 
 
 " Don't, Mr. Bamford, please don't talk in this 
 way. Let us be friends as we used to be. When 
 you look so distressed I feel that I have wronged 
 you. And yet, I can't see how I have done 
 anything wrong. Last spring, when I first 
 began to be sure that you were fond of me, I 
 tried to show you that I did not return your 
 feeling." 
 
 " You are not to blame, Annice. You need not 
 be pained because of anything you have done. 
 Perhaps I have hurt my own cause by pressing 
 my suit too soon. If I had waited ' 
 
 " It would not have made any difference," said 
 Nan, speaking kindly, but firmly. " I am sorry, 
 but this is the truth. Really, Mr. Bamford, you 
 think too much of me. You are worthy of a 
 better wife than I could make." 
 
 " I suppose I must give you up. I felt the 
 moment I saw you that I had lost ground. You 
 were not so sure of your feelings when I saw you 
 last winter, were you ?" 
 
 " No ; I was not so sure." 
 
 " I knew it. Some one has come between 
 us. Is it that long-haired artist I met in the 
 museum ?" 
 
 Nan froze instantly. " That long-haired artist, 
 ii
 
 1 62 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 as you call him, is nothing to me, nor has he any 
 desire to be more than a friend. Nothing, no one 
 has come between us, Mr. Bam ford ; we never 
 were anything to each other." 
 
 " If you had never gone away you might have 
 learned to love me. Is it not so? " 
 
 " I don't know. I might have thought I did. 
 I have learned much beside painting ; I under- 
 stand myself better than I did. In all proba- 
 bility I shall never marry ; I shall live for my 
 work. I don't say this because I mean to sacrifice 
 life for art, but I cannot explain. You are a good 
 man, Mr. Bamford, and you deserve to be happy. 
 Forget me and find a better woman than I shall 
 ever be." 
 
 " No ; I cannot do that. I shall hope against 
 hope. You are not to blame because I choose to 
 wait. It is my own fault if I'm disappointed at 
 last. I can't give you up, Nan. I loved you 
 when I first saw you in my classes, and I thought 
 what a lovely woman you'd make in a few years. 
 Since then I have had no plans, no hopes, which 
 did not include you. But courage, Alan Barn- 
 ford, it may be yet. As I said, I shall wait and 
 hope." 
 
 " You are very foolish to do so, and I have 
 told you frankly that I shall not change. It 
 doesn't make me feel very comfortable." 
 
 " Ah, are you afraid of me ? Do you fear that 
 I shall yet win the day ? "
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 163 
 
 "Not in the least, Mr. Bamford. I told you 
 that I understand myself." 
 
 " It's the zeit geist the spirit of the times," 
 said Mr. Bamford, taking a new tack. " It's in 
 the air, a revolt from the old established condi- 
 tions. Men and women were created to love and 
 marry, but nowadays women must go out into 
 the world and win name and fame for them- 
 selves. They would be much happier by their 
 own firesides." 
 
 Nan flared up. " Don't make me angry, Mr. 
 Bamford. I have heard all this before; it sounds 
 very familiar. Who is the better judge of what 
 a woman needs, she herself, or some man who 
 does not understand a woman ? There is no re- 
 volt against marriage, there is no new woman, 
 but women are more in earnest, and they think 
 twice before accepting marriage as the only open 
 door. As for fame fiddlesticks ! I am not after 
 fame. I believe that God has given me a talent, 
 and I mean to cultivate it. This is my duty, till 
 some other duty shows itself to be nearer." 
 
 " Would you marry a man if you loved him ?" 
 
 " Of course I would if he were worth loving." 
 
 " Wouldn't you put your art before him and 
 sacrifice him ?" 
 
 " No ; if I loved a man I should probably be , 
 aware of that fact. If there is such a man in the 
 world to-day he may trust me to do my duty to 
 him when the time comes."
 
 164 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 Nan was getting very tired of this. She moved 
 over to the window, and drew in a branch of the 
 Japanese honeysuckle, burying her face in its 
 sweetness. She walked over to the old piano, and 
 played a few tinkling notes as her hands dropped 
 on the yellow keys. Mr. Bam ford sat bolt-upright 
 on the horsehair sofa, and, as he showed no sign 
 of departing, Nan essayed to introduce a new 
 topic of conversation. 
 
 But it was of no avail. Whether she talked of 
 the magazine club, or the church choir, or the new 
 assistant who was to be in the high school in the 
 fall, Mr. Bamford answered only in monosyllables. 
 Harriet came downstairs, and Nan made such a 
 peremptory sign to her through the open door, that 
 she came in. 
 
 Mr. Bamford unbent, and deigned to enter into 
 conversation. He gave Harriet a valuable list of 
 books on sociology for the library committee to 
 consider, and he discoursed cheerfully upon the 
 prospects of a new organ in the church. The 
 evening ended by duets between Harriet and Mr. 
 Bamford. Nan did not sing, but she sat and wove 
 quite a little romance about Harriet and the 
 teacher. It would be a most sensible match, 
 for he was much nearer Harriet's age than her 
 own. 
 
 She suggested this to Harriet after Mr. Bam- 
 ford had gone. The two girls strolled out to the 
 hay field and sat down in the fragrant hay. Har-
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 165 
 
 riet laughed as if the idea were ridiculous, and 
 settled herself comfortably in the hay. 
 
 " Why not, Harrie ? He is really very nice, and 
 he would make a good husband." 
 
 " Marry him yourself, Nan. You have the 
 opportunity, and I haven't. Not that I want it," 
 she added. 
 
 " It would be an excellent match," Nan went 
 on. "He really is too good for me, and that makes 
 him almost good enough for you. I think he 
 would make an acceptable brother-in-law." 
 
 " Really, Nan, you are too kind and generous. 
 I know he would be ever so much obliged to you 
 if he knew your plans." 
 
 " He might well be. You know a great deal 
 more than I do. You play and sing, and I scarce- 
 ly know one tune from another. I would advise 
 you to be nice to him, Harrie." 
 
 " Are you going to keep on with that idea? I 
 might get enough of it after an hour or two. See 
 if that will extinguish you." And Harriet got 
 up and covered Nan with an armful of hay. 
 
 " Thank you, Harriet. It is very sweet. Oh, 
 what wouldn't some of those poor girls in New 
 York give for the chance of being in a hay field 
 on a July evening, watching the dearest little 
 moon in the world rise over the tops of the trees." 
 
 " Be careful, or you'll paint a landscape this 
 time." 
 
 Nan laughed, and brushed the hay away. " It's
 
 1 66 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 glorious out here. Why didn't we bring Emma 
 Anna and Charlotte ? " 
 
 " They wouldn't come. They think, if they, 
 know where we are, that we are wasting our 
 time." 
 
 " Yes, of course. I can imagine what they are 
 doing. Charlotte is reading something improving 
 and wooden, like Gibbon's Rome. She was half 
 way through when I came home. Emma Anna 
 is knitting on that very florid afghan and reading 
 the Delineator at the same time. Mother prob- 
 ably sits in the Boston rocker too tired to do 
 more than sigh, ' Dear me.' Father, it is safe to say, 
 sits in the back door ; he is the most sensible one 
 of the lot. Why don't they all go and sit in the 
 porch, since they won't come down to the hay 
 field. How do you like that ? " and Nan buried 
 Harriet in the fragrant hay. 
 
 " It's absolutely blissful. I shall be asleep in 
 two moments if you don't talk to me." 
 
 " What shall I talk about, the professor ? " 
 
 "No. Nannie, have you a beau in New York? 
 That is the proper word according to the Mace- 
 donian dictionary." 
 
 "No, I haven't. Why?" 
 
 " Oh, I was just wondering. I heard Emma 
 Anna and Charlotte discussing the possibility. 
 Their reasons were that the professor had not 
 been here much, and you received letters in ' big 
 handwriting ' from New York."
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 167 
 
 " The big handwriting is Clara Henshawe's. 
 No, there is no beau. Probably the postmaster's 
 daughter has been wondering. I told Clara how 
 curious she was, and it amused her very much. 
 So now she sends me two postal cards every week, 
 written in French. On the last one she suggested 
 that I loan the postmaster's daughter a French 
 dictionary. You'd find Clara very amusing, 
 Harriet." 
 
 "She is coming, isn't she?" asked Harriet 
 sleepily. 
 
 " Yes ; in August. I can imagine how she will 
 affect Emma Anna and Charlotte ; but she isn't 
 such a goose as she seems on first acquaintance. 
 Are you asleep ? " 
 
 " Almost. I suppose we ought to go in. 
 Charlotte must have read twenty pages of Gibbon, 
 and Emma Anna has made a green and purple 
 and rose-colored square for the afghan. They 
 are probably waiting for us to come in so they 
 can lock up the house. It's a shame to go in, for 
 it is only ten." 
 
 " Poor things ! I wish they could get more out 
 of life," said Nan. " I've lost every hairpin but 
 one. Some cow will find them in her hay next 
 winter." 
 
 Harriet and Nan stopped at the well for a drink. 
 Nan let the bucket down to the bottom of the 
 well, and when the water came up it was cold as 
 if it had been iced. " It's better than soda from
 
 1 68 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 the corner drugstore," said Nan appreciatively. 
 " I'll get a pitcher and take some in. Father 
 always finishes up with a visit to the well, and I'll 
 save him the trouble." 
 
 As Harriet said, the afghan and Gibbon were put 
 away, and Emma Anna was locking the front door 
 and the parlor windows, while Charlotte wound 
 the clocks. Mrs. Wynkoop had gone up-stairs, 
 tired with jelly-making and ironing. 
 
 " Didn't you get cold sitting out in the hay 
 field? " asked Emma Anna of Nan. 
 
 "No; it was delightful out there. You should 
 have come with us. I don't see why you stay in 
 the house so much. I despise a house in summer. 
 You work too hard, Emma Anna. Don't you 
 ever take a play-spell ? " 
 
 " Why, yes, Nan. I never work evenings, un- 
 less I am very much rushed. I rest working on 
 my afghan." 
 
 " Oh," said Nan. " I suppose the afghan is to 
 her the same as a picture is to me," she said, going 
 into Harriet's room. " I don't see how any one 
 who has Emma Anna's taste about dressmaking 
 can concoct such a piece of villainy as that afghan. 
 What will she do with it when it is done ? " 
 
 " Put it over the parlor sofa, I suppose," said 
 Harriet wickedly. " It's shabby enough to need 
 it." 
 
 "That parlor is dreadful, Harrie. I'm an un- 
 grateful wretch to say anything, but it drives me
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 169 
 
 almost to desperation. It always did, but it 
 looks even worse than ever. What did mother 
 buy that horse-hair furniture for ? " 
 
 " I don't know. It was very fine when she got 
 it, I dare say. I know it's dreadful, Nan. It 
 doesn't need the artist's eye to see that. But we 
 can't do anything about it. We simply can't af- 
 ford anything new, and if we could I wouldn't 
 break mother's heart by telling her that this isn't 
 perfectly desirable." 
 
 " No, I wouldn't either. I hadn't thought of it 
 from her point of view. But to sit in that room 
 with its horse-hair furniture and hideous carpet 
 and marble-topped table, and hear Mr. Bamford 
 discourse on woman's sphere, is ' worse than seven 
 times eight and seven times seven.'" 
 
 "What is that?" said Harriet, letting down a 
 quantity of black hair. 
 
 " Why, don't you know Marjorie Fleming ? She 
 said that ' the most Devilish thing is seven times 
 seven and eight times eight. It is what nature 
 itself can't endure.' Clara is always saying it, 
 and I know she will want to say it when she sees 
 our parlor. I can fancy her standing before 
 those two vases and letting her vocabulary run 
 away with her. Of course she can't say any- 
 thing while she is here, but she will suffer all the 
 more. I'll keep her in the sitting-room when we 
 are in the house." 
 
 " The parlor never seems to strike the pro-
 
 170 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 fessor unpleasantly. I suppose he would cheer- 
 fully sit there every evening if you would let 
 him." 
 
 " There you go, harking back to the professor 
 again. You are determined to have him in the 
 family, I see. Marry him yoursel', lassie." 
 
 "All joking aside, Nan, I really wonder if you 
 are very sure that you are not making a mistake. 
 He is a good man, and his like is not met every 
 day." 
 
 " I am very sure, ohi, prudent Harriet. Seri- 
 ously, I am very sure that I know I am not mak- 
 ing a mistake, and I know why I am sure. Does 
 that satisfy you ? " 
 
 " It ought to, surely. I'll drop the matter, 
 Nan. I think you know your own mind."
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 NAN found difficulty in getting suitable models 
 for her work. Her own family was too busy to 
 sit for her, and she felt that the neighbors thought 
 her portraits of little importance compared to her 
 pictures of roses and hollyhocks. Occasionally 
 she borrowed a child long enough to get a satis- 
 factory portrait, but children were shy of the 
 little attic studio. Nan had always been a favorite 
 with small folk, but her year in New York, and 
 the fact that she had pictures of " darkies and 
 Eyetalians," invested her with a sort of mystery 
 and dread. 
 
 Grandma Wynkoop came early in July, and 
 Nan immediately decided that here was a model 
 to be thankful for. Grandma called the whole 
 affair " fol-de-rol," and said she would rather have 
 a good photograph any day than a " smelly " 
 oil-painting. Still, she agreed to sit to Nan. If 
 she would spend money on such things, she 
 oughtn't to lose what she had learned. So, every 
 morning the old lady climbed to the studio and 
 let Nan pose her. At first, they disagreed about 
 the dress. Nan wanted to drape her in a black 
 
 lace shawl, and arrange her hair in puffs at the 
 171
 
 IJ2 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 temples. But Grandma insisted on being " taken " 
 in her new silk dress, and she also insisted on 
 wearing her false front. Nan was in despair. 
 She abominated the new silk dress. Grandma 
 had a gay eye, and her dress was of purple, with 
 black polka dots. The false front, which was 
 her especial pride, and which she had "just paid 
 five dollars for," transformed the really hand- 
 some old lady, giving her a vicious expression. 
 " Grandma," pleaded poor Nan, " you are so much 
 handsomer in black lace and with your own white 
 hair. Let me paint you as you are, not as that 
 false front makes you look." 
 
 But the old lady was firm. She would be 
 taken as she wished to be taken, or not at all. 
 She didn't care to set up-garret like a wooden 
 image, anyway. A photograph was a good deal 
 quicker, and no doubt it would be a sight more 
 like her. 
 
 Nan began to weaken. Models were scarcer 
 than ever, and grandma must be held at any 
 price. So she effected a compromise with the 
 old lady. She would paint one picture, just as 
 she wished, polka dot silk and all, if grandma 
 would let her paint her a second time draped in 
 the lace mantle, and wearing her own hair, and 
 an ancestral tortoise-shell comb. Mrs. Wynkoop 
 yielded after Nan had solemnly promised that 
 she would never show the second picture to any- 
 one in Macedonia.
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 173 
 
 This settled, Nan began work in earnest. But 
 it was not all smooth sailing, by any means. She 
 would get grandma posed just as she wanted her, 
 when she would jump up and fly to the window, 
 or insist that she must go downstairs and get a 
 drink. Nan would implore her to let her go for 
 the water, but then the old lady would invent 
 some other excuse to get back to the sitting- 
 room, where Emma Anna sat sewing. She liked 
 to know just what everybody in the town had to 
 wear, and she always enjoyed being with Emma 
 Anna. 
 
 Nan found that the best way to keep her quiet 
 was to talk to her, so she spun long yarns about 
 her life in New York and the people she had met. 
 These narratives did not proceed very rapidly, for 
 grandma always insisted upon knowing the his- 
 tory of every person Nan mentioned. " What 
 are his or her circumstances ? " was the first ques- 
 tion. There was much similarity about the cir- 
 cumstances of Nan's friends, for they were all 
 self-supporting women, and grandma remarked 
 that New York must be full of women trying to 
 do men's work. 
 
 Grandma did not hold with the " new woman," 
 if there is such a person, and she was orthodox 
 and conservative enough in her views to delight 
 even Mr. Bamford. She had as little regard for 
 a man who did a woman's work as for a mascu- 
 line woman, and she asked a great many ques-
 
 174 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 tions about men who made pictures for their 
 living. When Nan first mentioned Mr. Parrish's 
 name she inquired if he was a beau of hers. Nan 
 promptly repudiated such an idea, and then 
 grandma turned her head, spoiling the pose, to 
 ask if Nan had a beau in New York. 
 
 "No," said Nan, laughing. " Grandma, things 
 are different from what they were when you were 
 young. Young men and young women work and 
 have good times together, and they don't think 
 of falling in love." 
 
 " Humph ! I know they are a flirtatious lot ! " 
 
 " No, it is not flirting ; it's ' Nan was going 
 
 to say camaraderie, but she remembered that 
 grandma wouldn't understand it, so she substi- 
 tuted friendliness. 
 
 " Fiddlesticks ! " said the old lady. " That's 
 what I call it. The world will be full of old 
 maids and old bachelors if this friendliness keeps 
 on." 
 
 Nan posed her again and went on painting, 
 leaving her with the last word. 
 
 " Annice, are you going to marry that school 
 teacher ? " 
 
 " No, grandma." 
 
 " Why not ? " 
 
 " Because I don't want to. I don't care 
 enough about him to marry him. How would 
 you have liked to marry some man you didn't 
 love instead of grandpa?"
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 175 
 
 " I didn't stop and weigh matters ; no one did 
 in them days. We got married as a matter of 
 course. Jonas Wynkoop your father is named 
 for him came a-courting me. He was well-to- 
 do and good-looking, and he sang bass in the 
 choir. I was twenty, and lots of girls married 
 before that age, and I took him. We always got 
 along first-rate together, Jonas and I, and I 
 wasn't stopping to think whether we were con- 
 genial or not. We were too busy, I with my 
 housework and Jonas with his farm. We worked 
 and saved and made money and raised six chil- 
 dren. All of them did well except your pa; he 
 don't seem to have any faculty, and he don't take 
 that after me nor your grandpa. Well, Jonas 
 has been dead these thirteen years, and here I am, 
 as lively as I was ten years ago, and having my 
 picture took. How are you getting along. 
 Annice? " 
 
 " Nicely ; just sit still five minutes longer, and 
 I'll give you a rest." 
 
 Grandma was never satisfied with the picture. 
 It was too faithful to suit her. As she said, she 
 might as well look in the glass if Nan was going 
 to paint her just as she was, and she insisted that 
 Nan hadn't made the false front " crimpy " 
 enough. Nan promised to mend that fault, and 
 while the old lady stood there she painted out a 
 wrinkle or two, whereat grandma went back to 
 her pose.
 
 176 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 "You'll make a right smart painter some day, 
 Annice, if you keep on. I shouldn't wonder if 
 you'd get as much as twenty-five dollars for a 
 picture by and by." 
 
 Nan told some prices which " men who painted 
 pictures for a living" got for their portraits. 
 
 " For the land's sake ! It must pay them better 
 than doing men's work. I suppose that is why 
 they stick to it. I don't suppose women ever 
 make very much for their pictures ; they never 
 get so well paid as men. It ain't in the nature of 
 things." 
 
 " Why not, grandma?" asked Nan. 
 
 " Because it ain't, child. It ain't to be ex- 
 pected." 
 
 " But, grandma, suppose women's work is 
 equally good." 
 
 " It don't matter. Women's women and men's 
 men. You can't change what has always been." 
 And Nan got no elucidation of this much-vexed 
 question of equal pay for equal labor. 
 
 " If you'll marry the school teacher, I'll give 
 you a plush parlor set when you go to house- 
 keeping." Grandma spoke as if this offer would 
 clinch the bargain. 
 
 Nan laughed, much to the old lady's indigna- 
 tion. "You'll see the time when you'll be glad 
 to have such a parlor set as that would be." 
 
 " I never expect to have a parlor to put one 
 in."
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 177 
 
 " No parlor? Oh, I suppose you'll have one of 
 those studio rooms I've read about in books, full 
 of old tin pans and trumpery, old furniture and 
 fol-de-rol. I'd be self-respecting enough to say 
 I'd have a parlor, even if I didn't see where it was 
 coming from. Your ma ain't got much get-up 
 about her, but she's got a proper parlor." 
 
 Nan often wished for Miss Henshawe to share 
 the fun. It took the mornings of two weeks to 
 complete the picture, and Nan found her grand- 
 mother most piquant company. The old lady 
 had most decided views upon all subjects, 
 and she announced them with much conviction. 
 Sometimes they almost fell out, and grandma 
 would go downstairs and stay so long that Nan 
 would coax her back by a promise to make the 
 cheeks redder or to paint out another line in the 
 face. 
 
 At last the picture was done, and Nan carried 
 it down to her grandmother's room. She sur- 
 veyed it critically, said the dress looked as if it 
 were real silk, and that no doubt Nan had done 
 her best, considering how far she had gone, but 
 that, except for the dress and the breast-pin, she 
 would never have known who it was if she hadn't 
 sat for it. 
 
 " I'm sorry you are not pleased, grandma, and 
 I am sure the next picture will be better. You 
 know I am to paint your lovely hair. You know 
 you promised." 
 
 12
 
 178 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 " Yes, child, I know. But I can't go through 
 all that again right away. I'll make my visit at 
 your Uncle David's, and I'll come back in Au- 
 gust and finish out my visit here. Then you can 
 take me looking as old as you please, only you 
 mustn't ever show it hereabouts." 
 
 " Miss Henshawe will be here then, and we'll 
 have real good times together. You'll like her." 
 
 " I don't know whether I'll like her or not, but 
 I am curious to see some more of these painting 
 people. I'd like to see some of those men who 
 get such big prices for their pictures." 
 
 When Nan went to her grandmother's room to 
 say good-night, she called her in and told her to 
 draw the shades. Nan obeyed, and the old lady 
 opened her trunk and took out a box marked 
 " Prepared Mustard Plasters." 
 
 "What is the matter, grandma? Are you ill? 
 Why don't you let mother make a mustard plas- 
 ter? Hers are better than prepared ones." 
 
 "Who said anything about mustard plasters? 
 I'm after my money. I keep it between these 
 layers of mustard plasters, and I'd like to see 
 the burglar who would think of looking here 
 for it. There are two ten-dollar bills and one 
 five ; that makes twenty-five dollars. It's all for 
 painting my portrait. When you get rich from 
 your pictures remember that your grandmother 
 paid you the first money you ever got for paint- 
 ing a portrait."
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 " It is too much," Nan began. 
 
 " No ; it ain't. You worked hard enough, I 
 guess you earned it. Do what you please with 
 the money. I hope you'll have lots more of it 
 from your pictures. I'd rather see you marry 
 than be a painter, but I suppose I'm old-fashioned. 
 You seem to have lots of push and spirit, and 
 I'm glad of it. I shouldn't wonder if you take it 
 after me. Maybe I'd be painting pictures and 
 writing books if I had to live in this age. There, 
 child, don't thank me. You are welcome. If you 
 hadn't been you wouldn't have got the money." 
 
 Nan put the money with the little hoard she 
 was saving toward next year's expenses. This 
 was a great increase, and it was none the less 
 welcome because unexpected.
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE middle of August brought Miss Hen- 
 shawe. She had spent the summer at her old 
 home in Maine, and she had left Miss Minerva 
 there, pottering among her flower-beds as happy 
 as a queen. 
 
 Nan drove old Billy to the station to meet Miss 
 Henshawe. " Isn't it lovely ! so peaceful and rest- 
 ful," was her first exclamation. " Do you know, 
 I think I shall grow here, grow artistically I mean. 
 The surroundings are favorable for growth, don't 
 you think ? " 
 
 " I think they are favorable for standing still 
 artistically," said Nan, chirruping to Billy, who 
 showed his usual indisposition to move. " I hope 
 you have come prepared to be sensible, Clara 
 Henshawe. I don't like the way you are starting 
 out." 
 
 Miss Henshawe laughed good-naturedly. " I'll 
 get over this. But really, it's a dear, delightful 
 old place. I feel rested already. Hills always 
 rest me." 
 
 " I don't like them. I'd give all the Catskills 
 sometimes for a whiff from the sea. I sit here 
 and dream of salt water till I can smell it, almost. 
 180
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 181 
 
 Hold the horse, will you. while I go into the post- 
 office. 11 
 
 " What a lot of people ! What is going on ? " 
 
 " Nothing. They always congregate at the 
 post-office. Some people get a letter now and 
 then, and the others come to see if anyone else 
 gets letters." 
 
 " O, there is Mr. Bamford." 
 
 Miss Henshawe's voice was pitched so high that 
 Mr. Bamford heard her, and he came up to the 
 buggy and shook hands. When Nan came back 
 with the mail they were chatting as if they were 
 the best of friends. Nan took the reins, but Miss 
 Henshawe was in the midst of a description of her 
 summer, and of course Nan had to wait till she 
 came to a full stop. 
 
 " I suppose I shall see you often while I am 
 with Annice," said Miss Henshawe cordially, when 
 at last, they drove away. 
 
 " I shall be very happy to call soon," and Mr. 
 Bamford went back into the post-office, feeling 
 very well satisfied with himself. It was some- 
 thing to be appreciated, even if by the wrong 
 woman. Nan had looked particularly attractive 
 that afternoon in a broad-brimmed hat and a 
 dainty blue muslin. Mr. Bamford could almost 
 imagine her a womanly woman with no thought 
 of a " sphere." 
 
 " You seem to have letters," remarked Miss 
 Henshawe.
 
 1 82 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 " Yes ; one from Paris, from Miss Frost. The 
 post-master's daughter hated to let it go so soon. 
 Poor girl, it was inconsiderate of me to call for 
 the mail as soon as it was in." 
 
 " What is in this parcel ? That has a ' furrin ' 
 look too. Open it, do." 
 
 Nan did. It proved to be a sketch a bit of 
 the Bois de Boulogne, and it was signed 
 " T. B. F." 
 
 "Teddy Frost. Oh, the darling, that he is ! I'd 
 give all my back hair to have him send me some- 
 thing, and you take it as a matter of course. 
 What is this on the back?. 'In memory of our 
 day at the Bronx.' I declare, this is very senti- 
 mental. I feel it my duty to tell Mr. Bamford all 
 about this." 
 
 " My dear Clara, this, as you are pleased to call 
 it, is none of Mr. Bamford's business, to speak 
 plainly. We may as well understand this at 
 once." 
 
 Miss Henshawe gave a little whistle. " Did I 
 put my foot in it when I asked him to call?" 
 
 " No ; he calls now and then, enough to keep 
 up appearances, but he and I understand each 
 other." 
 
 " Nan, I'll wager sixteen tubes of paint that 
 you liked him before you met 
 
 Miss Wynkoop's hand was placed gently but 
 firmly over her friend's mouth. " Don't you dare, 
 on your life, finish that sentence. If you attempt
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 183 
 
 to I'll drive Billy over the stone wall and do my 
 best to break your neck. That is our house just 
 ahead." 
 
 " I'll never say anything again, unless I ask 
 you first if it is proper. There is your grand- 
 mother sitting on the porch." 
 
 "Yes; and she has dressed up in your honor. 
 When I left she had on a nice-looking lawn 
 wrapper, and her own hair, and now she has on 
 all her war-paint, and looks hideous. Wait till I 
 show you her to-morrow without that false front, 
 before you form any opinion of her." 
 
 " I must say she doesn't look like your grand- 
 mother, that is all. It's very pretty here, Nan, 
 and the house looks comfy and homelike. I 
 am anxious to see your little green-and-white 
 room." 
 
 A few moments later Miss Henshawe stood 
 within it, getting rid of the dust of travel. 
 
 " It's like you, Nan. Now I want to see the 
 little attic studio, but I'll wait till morning for 
 that. I mustn't have everything in one day. 
 What a glorious sunset you have from your little 
 window. I shall be very happy here." And 
 Miss Henshawe kissed Nan impulsively. 
 
 Miss Henshawe had wondered whether the Wyn- 
 koop family would not be somewhat " put out " 
 at having a guest from the city. But she soon 
 saw that they were perfectly at ease. They met 
 her cordially, but there was nothing to indicate
 
 184 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 that they felt any embarrassment. Only grandma 
 had made an effort to " dress up." Mrs. Wyn- 
 koop, Emma Anna, and Charlotte, wore muslin 
 dresses. 
 
 Grandma immediately inquired after the health 
 of Miss Minerva. After being assured that she 
 was well and happy, the old lady started out on 
 a genealogical excursion. 
 
 "Are you any relation of Silas Henshawe ? " 
 
 " I don't know. I never heard of him. Who 
 was he ? " 
 
 " He was the son of Pelatiah Henshawe, and 
 his father was Obadiah Henshawe. They came 
 from Maine way, and most probably you all are 
 related. They were the only family of Hen- 
 shawes I ever knew, and Silas, he died in States 
 prison. He forged." 
 
 Miss Henshawe choked behind her napkin, and 
 Nan's eyes were dancing. 
 
 " How unfortunate if Silas was a relative of 
 mine," said Miss Henshawe. " I'll ask Minerva if 
 she knows anything of the family history." 
 
 " Silas Henshawe didn't look unlike you," per- 
 sisted grandma, " and now that I think of it, you 
 have the same nose." 
 
 " Silas must have been an artist in his line, and 
 that is another point of resemblance," said Nan, 
 mischievously. 
 
 " No ; he wasn't an artist, he was a stonemason, 
 iand he'd a done better if he'd stuck to his trade
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 1 8$ 
 
 and let forging alone. Some of his family didn't 
 know enough to read, let alone writin', and it 
 would have been better for Silas if he'd had no 
 schooling. No, no ; he wasn't an artist ; people 
 didn't make pictures and call it work, in those 
 days." 
 
 " Isn't your grandmother a treat? "said Miss 
 Henshawe, when she and Nan went out on the 
 porch after supper. " She is as good as a play. 
 She told me about the picture you painted of her, 
 while you were out of the room a moment before 
 supper." 
 
 " Yes ; I did a dreadful one to please her, but 
 I'm going to do a good one to please myself. I 
 depend upon you to keep grandma quiet while I 
 paint." 
 
 After the farm had been thoroughly explored 
 by Miss Henshawe on the morning after her 
 arrival, she turned her attention to the studio and 
 examined everything Nan had done since she 
 began to paint. Grandma heard their voices, and 
 came up to inquire if they wanted her to sit for 
 her picture. 
 
 " Yes, yes ; we'll take her while she is willing, 
 it is so seldom that she is," said Nan. " I have a 
 canvas ready." 
 
 So grandma sat down, and Miss Henshawe 
 draped her shoulders in the black lace mantle, and 
 posed her. Nan began to draw at once, and by 
 dinner time she had made satisfactory progress.
 
 1 86 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 Miss Henshawe talked, and worked on some em- 
 broidery, thus keeping grandma quiet. 
 
 After a day or two Nan became absorbed in her 
 picture. " It is going to be the best thing I ever 
 did," she said to Miss Henshawe, who fully agreed 
 with her. 
 
 Grandma sniffed contemptuously when she 
 looked at it, and said it was even worse than the 
 first one. She asked Miss Henshawe why she did 
 not take her picture. She had taken a great fancy 
 to Miss Henshawe, and she followed her about the 
 house. She felt acquainted with her at once, be- 
 cause she had known Silas, and Miss Henshawe's 
 nose was like his. 
 
 " Miss Henshawe, or Clara, is a nice girl. She 
 said I was to call her Clara," said Grandma to Nan 
 one morning as they sat shelling peas in the 
 kitchen. " I wonder why she never got married ? " 
 
 " I'm sure I don't know, but there is time 
 enough yet." 
 
 " I don't know about that ; she must be twenty- 
 five, and when I was young a girl well-nigh gave 
 up hope at twenty-five." 
 
 " Gave up hope of what, grandma ? " 
 
 " Why, of getting married, of course. That's 
 what we were talking about. Is she going to 
 marry that Parrish man she talks about so often ? " 
 
 " Mercy, no. They are only good friends." 
 
 " Humph ! Where is Clara ? I thought she was 
 talking to the teacher out on the steps."
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 187 
 
 " She was, and no doubt she is talking to him 
 now. They have gone driving." 
 
 " Just as like as not that will make a match, 
 and you might have had him as well as not. Per- 
 haps he's going with Clara just to give you a 
 lesson." 
 
 " Oh, Grandma Wynkoop, don't be such a 
 matchmaker. He probably takes her driving be- 
 cause he wants to. Now the peas are done, and 
 it's time to paint. Let's go up-stairs." 
 
 " Let's wait till Clara comes." 
 
 "Why? I can't lose this morning. You'll 
 think more of Clara than you do of me, if you are 
 not careful, and I shall be jealous." 
 
 " I guess not. I guess if you are not jealous 
 about the teacher you won't be about your old 
 grandmother. Did Mr. Bamford ask you to go 
 riding with him this morning? " 
 
 " No ; he did not. He hasn't asked me to drive 
 with him this summer, and he won't ask me, and 
 I'm glad of it. I'll give him and Clara my bless- 
 ing and dance at their wedding. Don't move, 
 grandma, and I'll let you rest in five minutes." 
 
 Miss Henshawe came after a while. She 
 stopped to look over Nan's shoulder. " Good ! 
 Grandma, you mustn't be vain, but you are a 
 handsome old lady. Nan will get praise for this 
 picture." 
 
 " Did you have a nice ride ? " asked grandma 
 sententiously.
 
 1 88 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 "Yes ; thank you. The natives stared as if they 
 thought I had a beau. I believe that is the cor- 
 rect word, Nan. I almost know what they said 
 when we had passed. ' I declare, the teacher is 
 waiting on that artist woman from New York.' 
 ' Waiting on,' is the proper expression, isn't it, 
 Nan, or is it ' going with ' ? " 
 
 " Both are correct," said Nan, mixing more 
 paint. "They are synonyms." 
 
 " I thought so. As I saw the neighbors were 
 looking, I was very much absorbed in the teacher, 
 and looked at him as if I thought he was good 
 enough to eat. I hope he liked it." 
 
 " I think he did. He appreciates any one who 
 appreciates him." 
 
 " Poor man. He really is very nice, and we are 
 going to the ' doings ' at the Methodist church. 
 What is it, a lawn party ? " 
 
 " It's an ice-cream festival," said grandma, 
 " and Harriet, she said she'd take me. You going, 
 Nan ? " 
 
 Nan shook her head. " I don't know, grand- 
 ma. If Harriet doesn't get home in time to take 
 you, I'll go. I'm glad you are going, Clara ; it 
 will give you an excellent chance to see Mace- 
 donia and its suburbs." 
 
 Nan was especially glad that Clara was going 
 to the festival with Mr. Bamford. That would 
 convince the Macedonians once and forever that 
 the teacher was not waiting on " the youngest
 
 Annicc Wynkoop, Artist. 189 
 
 Wynkoop girl." Of course there would be people 
 who would say that "she couldn't get the 
 teacher," but she was quite willing to leave them 
 to their own opinion. She was going back to New 
 York, and she could afford to let the neighbors 
 theorize about her. 
 
 Miss Henshawe's two weeks lengthened to 
 four, and when at last she went to New York, it 
 was to settle a place to live and work in during 
 the next year. Her household goods had been 
 in storage during the summer. She and Nan 
 and Harriet had talked ways and means, and 
 Miss Minerva had written numberless pages on 
 the same subject. It was settled at last that the 
 Henshawes should take a larger apartment, and 
 that Nan should be with them. Miss Henshawe 
 had dwelt on the desirability of Nan's living with 
 some one staid and elderly like Miss Minerva, 
 who, as she explained to Mrs. Wynkoop, was not 
 one bit like her. Harriet said that she would 
 never consent to having Nan spend another year 
 in that boarding-house, and she heartily fell in 
 with Miss Henshawe's plan. 
 
 Nan drove that young woman to the station 
 one day early in September, and saw her on the 
 train which was to bear her back to New York. 
 Mr. Bam ford was there to say good-by, and Miss 
 Henshawe invited him to New York. " I'll give 
 you a better luncheon this time," she said, as the 
 car moved away, "and Mr. Parrish shall not
 
 190 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 dress the salad." She kissed her hand to Nan, 
 and was soon out of sight. 
 
 Nan and Mr. Bamford walked together over to 
 the post-office ; then he helped her into the 
 buggy and handed her the reins with his most 
 courtly bow. 
 
 " When do you go ? " he asked. 
 
 " In about two weeks, if Miss Henshawe finds 
 a place for us all. We are to be together, you 
 know. It will be much pleasanter for me." 
 
 " Your mother used to worry over you a great 
 deal last winter." 
 
 " I am sorry to hear it. I was safe and happy ; 
 there was no need for her to worry." 
 
 " I suppose you will paint a great picture this 
 year." 
 
 Nan laughed and flicked a fly off old Billy's 
 ears with her v/hip. " I don't expect to paint a 
 great picture, but I hope to find myself much 
 further along toward painting a great picture 
 than I am now. Art is long, you know, Mr. 
 Bamford." 
 
 " So I have always heard. Good-afternoon, 
 Miss Annice. I shall be up to see you before 
 you go." 
 
 " Good afternoon. I shall expect you." 
 
 " Come on, Macduff," she said when she got 
 out of hearing. " Your visits cannot worry me 
 now ; I'm beyond them. Your views on the 
 woman question can't keep me from painting a
 
 Annie e Wynkoop, Artist. 191 
 
 very good portrait, of Grandma Wynkoop. I'm 
 not vain, I hope, but I would like to hear what a 
 certain somebody would say about that picture. 
 There, Billy, take your time. You shall stop and 
 eat grass to your heart's content." 
 
 Nan let the reins lie loosely in her lap, and 
 Billy jogged along at a snail's-pace. The girl in 
 the wagon was enjoying herself to the utmost. 
 It was good to be alive and beneath the open sky 
 on a day like this. It was good to feel the young 
 blood in her veins and the desire to work. 
 
 " I'm glad I'm Nan Wynkoop and no one else, 
 Billy. It may seem very foolish of me to say this, 
 but you can never tell. I'm full of life and full 
 of hope. I'm happy. I'm going back to New 
 York to work another year. I have no dread of 
 anything, not even of Mr. Bamford's parting call. 
 See how emancipated I am, Billy?"
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 GOING to New York the second time was a 
 much easier matter than it had been a year be- 
 fore. As she sat in the train which was fast 
 carrying her from Macedonia, Nan wondered how 
 she had mustered up the courage to start when 
 she had so little money, no friends, and no expe- 
 rience. True, money was even scarcer than it 
 was a year ago, but she had a number of warm 
 friends, and she had much encouragement that 
 her work was full of promise. The hardest part 
 of the battle was won, she told herself. She 
 knew her ground, and she could work with less 
 waste of nervous force. Besides, her surround- 
 ings were to be more pleasant than they were 
 last year. She would be happy with Miss Minerva 
 and Clara. 
 
 Miss Henshawe and Mr. Parrish met Nan, 
 and that gentleman relieved her of her bag, 
 looked after her trunk, and they all drove home 
 together in great style, though Miss Henshawe 
 advised him to save his money and patronize the 
 " elevated." 
 
 "After all this gallantry I can't do less than 
 ask you to stay to dinner, Basil," Miss Henshawe 
 192
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 193 
 
 said when they reached her door. " Nan, he is 
 simply wild with jealousy over my studio. He 
 came in night before last and gnashed his teeth 
 so that Minerva heard him 'way out in the 
 kitchen. For we have a kitchen this year, Nan, 
 and Minerva is happy. So am I now that you 
 are here," and having reached the studio by this 
 time, Miss Henshawe grabbed Nan by the waist, 
 and danced a fantastic dance. 
 
 " There, look about you, and tell me if I haven't 
 done well," she said, when at last she released 
 her. 
 
 " Wait till I go and see Miss Minerva," and 
 Nan ran to the door to meet her. 
 
 Miss Minerva received her with open arms, and 
 at once carried her off to look at her kitchen. 
 " I am prouder of it than Clara is of her studio, 
 and why not, when it is my studio. It is most 
 important that Clara should have proper food, 
 but it was hard to cook it on a little gas-stove. 
 See this cupboard, and this, and see what a nice 
 range I have. Oh, I shall take good care of you 
 girls this winter." 
 
 When Nan went back to the studio Mr. Parrish 
 was examining an old cabinet which Miss Hen- 
 shawe had picked up at a bargain. He main- 
 tained that the shape was good, but that it was 
 not real mahogany, while she as stoutly insisted 
 that it was. 
 
 Miss Minerva announced dinner, and hostilities 
 '3
 
 194 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 ceased for a while. It was a nice little dinner, 
 and daintily served. Nan thought of the myriads 
 of women at the boarding-house, and was properly 
 thankful for her mercies. 
 
 " Did you work this summer, Miss Wynkoop ? " 
 Mr. Parrish asked abruptly, when he had drank 
 his soup. 
 
 Miss Henshawe answered for her. " You would 
 think she worked if you could see the picture 
 she painted of Grandma Wynkoop. It's far and 
 away the best work she ever did." 
 
 "What's the matter with my seeing it? It's 
 here, isn't it, or will it be when the baggage 
 comes? Don't ask me to carve, Clara. Really, 
 I am very nervous this evening." 
 
 " I didn't mean to ask you. Thank goodness, 
 I know how to carve. I'm as proud as a peacock 
 of that picture of grandma." 
 
 "And she did it all by herself, too, didn't she ? " 
 
 " Of course she did. I shall hang it up in the 
 studio, and Nan can't help herself, for I am her 
 natural guardian now." 
 
 " I'm going to stay till the expressman comes, 
 and unpack that picture. Oh, by the way, the 
 great, the only Theodore Frost is in town." 
 
 Miss Henshawe dropped her fork. " How do 
 you know? And, Basil, I don't know what you 
 mean by speaking of him in that manner." 
 
 Mr. Parrish ignored the reproof. " I know he is 
 in town, for I saw his name among the arrivals
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 195 
 
 on the Majestic yesterday ; and, moreover, I met 
 him to-day exactly in front of the Hoffman House, 
 to be accurate. I told him that you were back 
 here, and that Miss Wynkoop would be here to- 
 day." 
 
 " Is Miss Frost here, too ? " asked Nan, who 
 had not spoken for some time. 
 
 " Yes ; so he said. I believe you love her 
 almost as much as Miss Henshawe loves Teddy." 
 
 " I wish you wouldn't be so spiteful, Basil. It 
 will never make you paint one half as well as Mr. 
 Frost. There is the bell. No ; Minerva, I'll go. 
 Perhaps it is the expressman." 
 
 It was the expressman, and as soon as dinner 
 was over Miss Henshawe made Nan take out the 
 portrait. " We'll have our coffee in the studio, 
 after we have the picture," she said. 
 
 " It's mighty well done, and no mistake," said 
 Mr. Parrish cordially. " I congratulate you, Miss 
 Wynkoop." 
 
 " Oh, she has it in her," quoted Miss Hen- 
 shawe, with a wicked look at Nan. " There is 
 another ring. Now I wonder who is coming, and 
 we have these coffee cups around." 
 
 She opened the door to admit Miss and Mr. 
 Frost. " Why, I declare, I am so surprised, and 
 so glad. Yes ; Miss Frost, Nan is here." 
 
 " My dear child, I'm so glad you came back to 
 us," and Miss Frost kissed the girl on both cheeks. 
 
 " When you are through with Miss Wynkoop,
 
 196 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 Jessica, I should like to shake hands with her; 
 that is, if there is anything left of her. 
 
 " I'm awfully glad they didn't keep you up in 
 Macedonia, Miss Wynkoop. I need not ask you 
 if you rested, for I can see that you did, but I 
 think you did some work as well. May I look at 
 this ' portrait of an old lady ' ? " 
 
 Miss Henshawe immediately constituted her- 
 self show-woman. " It is Grandma Wynkoop, 
 and I tell Nan it is the best thing she ever 
 did." 
 
 Mr. Frost seemed to pay no attention to Miss 
 Henshawe's remarks. " Come here, Jessica," he 
 said. They stood for a moment looking at the 
 picture, then he said : " Van Alstyne ! Oh, by 
 all means. You must arrange it somehow. 
 
 " Your grandmother is a fine old lady, and her 
 grand-daughter has made a good portrait. May 
 I ask if you had any criticism on that work ? " 
 
 " No, I worked alone all summer. I am glad 
 you like it. I ought to have done fairly well with 
 it, for it was the second one." 
 
 " I see," was Mr. Frost's reply. 
 
 " Now I think it time that you looked at my 
 studio," said Miss Henshawe, trying to pout. 
 
 " Why, surely. This is the new studio, Jess, 
 we must say something very nice about it." 
 
 Miss Henshawe proudly conducted the whole 
 party all over the apartment. Mr. Frost declared 
 himself in love with the kitchen, and he related
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 197 
 
 some of his culinary experiences while out in 
 Arizona. 
 
 Mr. Parrish, not to be outshone, gave his method 
 of cooking Lobster a la Newburg in a chafing-dish. 
 
 Nan smiled and wondered what Grandma Wyn- 
 koop would say if she had heard these " painter- 
 men " comparing notes on cookery. 
 
 Miss Frost drew Nan aside and talked over 
 plans for next year. Or, rather, she told the girl 
 she wanted to see her soon at her studio, when 
 they would talk over plans. 
 
 " But, my dear Miss Frost ; there is nothing to 
 do but to go on as I did last year. Of course, I 
 shall be a great deal better off now that I am 
 living here with Clara." 
 
 " Come to me to-morrow at four. That is a 
 good child. I have much to say to you. Don't 
 forget." 
 
 " I won't," Nan answered softly. 
 
 Miss Frost went back to the others, who were 
 admiring Clara Henshawe's new purchases. Mr. 
 Frost set her mind at rest by assuring her that her 
 cabinet was the real thing. 
 
 " There ! I told you so," she said triumphantly 
 to Mr. Parrish. " Mr. Frost ought to know if 
 any one does. You are so jealous, Basil." 
 
 " Faith, and I don't blame him. It's a dream 
 of a studio. I'm going to send you a couple of 
 pieces of queer-looking pottery I brought with 
 me. They will look well on that cabinet. There
 
 198 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 is a piece of Delft which I want to send to you, 
 Miss Wynkoop. With your name, I dare say 
 you'll appreciate something from Holland." 
 
 Nan thanked him, though Miss Henshawe cut 
 in before she had finished her polite little speech. 
 
 " Oh, Nan is Dutch. Nearly everybody up in 
 Macedonia is Dutch. They have no end of stuff 
 brought from Holland old chairs, stout enough 
 to have held a generation of burghers, funny, 
 long, narrow mirrors, with a picture taking up 
 half the space. Mrs. Wynkoop gave me one 
 which had been in the Wynkoop family ever so 
 long. She was so conscientious she said she 
 wasn't sure that it came from Holland. But I 
 have no compunctions. I say it did. I'll get it ; 
 it hangs over my dressing-table." 
 
 When the mirror had been duly admired, Miss 
 Henshawe went on with her description of Mace- 
 donia. 
 
 "You ought to go there," she finished by say- 
 ing to the Frosts. " It is like a place in a story- 
 book. You would enjoy it particularly, Mr. 
 Frost. You ought to stay in your own country 
 for one summer instead of going to the old world. 
 I enjoyed Macedonia, and I am going there again 
 next summer." 
 
 " Really ! Then I think I shall have to desert 
 Paris," smiled Mr. Frost. 
 
 "You needn't be so sarcastic. You would en- 
 joy it. And as for amusement, there is a great
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 199 
 
 deal going on. I really was very dissipated. 
 The school-teacher took me driving quite often; 
 I went to two ice-cream festivals and was invited 
 out to tea a number of times. Then there is the 
 sewing society ; that's a function, I assure you. I 
 sewed on the new carpet for the Presbyterian 
 church, but I sewed it on the wrong side, or, 
 rather, I sewed it on the right side, which 
 proved to be the wrong side. A stern-visaged 
 matron in a black alpaca basque ripped it out. 
 She looked at me as if I were a creature from 
 another planet. I never sewed on a carpet be- 
 fore ; how should I know which side was the out- 
 side?" 
 
 " Is that all you did for the community in all 
 the time you were there?" inquired Mr. Parrish. 
 "You were there fully four weeks." 
 
 " I know I was, but I was urged to stay, and 
 the Wynkoop family wouldn't have asked me to 
 stay if they hadn't wanted me to. I did other 
 things for the good of the community, Basil. I 
 sang alto in the choir. I stood next the teacher, 
 who is the basso profundo, and once, when Har- 
 riet Wynkoop had the headache, I played the 
 organ. Oh, it is a great town, I assure you." 
 
 " I don't think it is just polite to make fun of 
 Macedonia, Clara." This from Miss Minerva, 
 who came from the kitchen just in time to hear 
 the last words. 
 
 " Oh, Nan doesn't mind. She isn't a bit like
 
 2oO Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 the Macedonians. She is as urban as if she had 
 always lived in New York. Some of the Mace- 
 donians thought she was ' stuck up/ I fear. They 
 think if you paint for your living you are queer 
 and one-sided. You mustn't think that every- 
 body in Macedonia is provincial, for it isn't so at 
 all." 
 
 "That's right, Clara, fix it up. I know Miss 
 Wynkoop's feelings are hurt, though she won't 
 own it probably." 
 
 " No, they are not. Nan called my attention 
 to a great many funny things. I repeat that my 
 young friend, Miss Wynkoop, is quite urbane." 
 
 The Frosts rose to go when Miss Henshawe 
 ended this monologue. 
 
 " Come, Teddy, Miss Wynkoop is tired and we 
 must not keep her up. To-morrow at four, 
 Annice." 
 
 "What does Miss Frost want of you?" Miss 
 Henshawe asked of Nan as they brushed their 
 hair together that night. 
 
 " I don't know, Clara." 
 
 " Depend upon it that something is in the 
 wind. And let me give you a hint ; if she wants 
 to make any arrangemeuts for you, you would 
 better let her. It isn't well to be too inde- 
 pendent." 
 
 " I am independent, and I can't help it. I was 
 born so. I am glad, though, that I am inde- 
 pendent."
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 201 
 
 " Humph ! There is such a thing as having too 
 much of a good thing. Good-night. I hope 
 you'll sleep well in your new quarters." 
 
 Miss Frost was alone when Nan called next 
 day, and she began at once to talk of ways and 
 means, as she had promised. 
 
 " Nan, I want you to study with Van Alstyne." 
 
 " Miss Frost, there is no use in my crying for 
 the moon. I beg your pardon. I don't wish to 
 seem flippant, but it is simply impossible." 
 
 " There is nothing impossible about it. I saw 
 him this morning, and I talked to him about you. 
 He is a great friend of Theodore's and of mine. 
 There is no reason why you should not study 
 with him." 
 
 Nan flushed a deep red. " Don't place me in 
 a position where I must say no to anything you 
 want me to do, Miss Frost. That would hurt 
 me more than I can say." 
 
 " My dear child, don't be silly. Excuse me ; I 
 should say don't be over-conscientious. It is a 
 very simple matter. Your sister Harriet wrote 
 me to place you with the teacher I thought best 
 for you, and that she would pay for your lessons." 
 
 " But Van Alstyne ! I have heard about his 
 prices," interrupted Nan. " They are beyond 
 Harriet's purse. She is the soul of generosity, 
 but she has no idea how these first-class teachers 
 charge." 
 
 " Please understand me Annice. I can make
 
 202 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 a special arrangement with Van Alstyne. Both 
 Theodore and I have sent many pupils to him, 
 and" 
 
 Nan shook her head. " No, Miss Frost, I 
 really don't think I ought to do anything like 
 that now. I'll keep on as I began, for the pres- 
 ent, at least." 
 
 " You will give up that afternoon work, I hope, 
 Nan. It is taking your strength, and you might 
 rather spend your time in picture galleries." 
 
 " You mean my illustrating ? I can't give it up. 
 It doesn't take much time, and it really is quite 
 a help. I did quite a little while I was home, 
 and in one month I made twenty-two dollars. 
 Really, Miss Frost, the work is very simple, or I 
 could not do it at all." 
 
 " Are you going to Brooklyn as you did last 
 spring." 
 
 "Yes; I hope so. Mrs. Richardson is in the 
 country now, but I hope she will want me when 
 she comes back. That work helps me a little 
 too." 
 
 It was Miss Frost's turn to shake her head. 
 " It is bad economy. You might rather work 
 with all your might while you work." 
 
 "If I help myself a good deal I can perhaps 
 study here two years more instead of one. That 
 is what I am hoping for." 
 
 " Oh, you poor child, I see you are bound to 
 have your way. I won't torment you, but any
 
 Annice Wynkoop^ Artist. 203 
 
 time you are ready to change your mind and go 
 to Van Alstyne let me know." 
 
 When Miss Henshawe succeeded in drawing 
 from Nan what Miss Frost wanted of her, she 
 told her very plainly that she was a precious goose 
 to refuse to go to Van Alstyne.
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 NAN was thoroughly rested by her long summer 
 at home, and she threw herself into her work with 
 all her strength. 
 
 The illustrating for the Headlight went on, and 
 while the returns were slight, Nan considered it 
 well worth doing. Mrs. Richardson returned 
 early in September, and she sent at once for her 
 amanuensis. Nan was glad of this source of 
 revenue, though she grudged the two afternoons 
 a week. Still, even the most talented art student 
 must live, and to live one must have some money, 
 be it ever so little. 
 
 Nan had been fortunate in one respect. She 
 had been particularly exempt from mortifying 
 experiences which beset many girls whom she 
 knew. But a most bitter one came to her early 
 in her second year in the city. As Miss Hen- 
 shawe told her, if she had taken Miss Frost's ad- 
 vice and given up the Brooklyn business, it would 
 never have happened. 
 
 Soon after Nan resumed her work with Mrs. 
 Richardson, her stepson, Vivian, came home. 
 He had been traveling abroad during the previous 
 204
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 205 
 
 year, and Nan had not known of his existence. 
 He soon found it convenient to lounge in and out 
 of his stepmother's boudoir while Nan was busied 
 with correspondence and accounts or was painting 
 menu cards. This last was a new use to which 
 Mrs. Richardson had put her. 
 
 Nan was, of course, aware of Vivian Richard- 
 son's presence as he passed in and out, but she 
 never gave him a second thought. She soon saw 
 that he had given her many. " He wants to flirt, 
 I suppose," she thought, " but Pll be so stupid 
 that I won't pretend to see it." This plan worked 
 very well for a little while, but the young man 
 made so many bids for her attention that she 
 could no longer feign blindness. One day under 
 pretence of looking for sealing-wax on his mother's 
 desk, he put a scrap of paper before her. On it 
 he had written. " I love you. Where can I meet 
 you ? Pity me." 
 
 Nan's face flushed with anger, but Mr. Richard- 
 son mistook the signal. Quick as a flash she 
 scribbled on the back of an envelope, " I despise 
 you." 
 
 M. Richardson, who had taken a picturesque 
 attitude, with his arm resting on the mantelpiece, 
 read the words, and vowed a vow to have ven- 
 geance on the girl who had presumed to snub him. 
 He was used to having his addresses met in a very 
 different fashion. Who was this girl that she had 
 dared tell him that she despised him ? When he
 
 2o6 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 was ready to make a dignified exit, he left the 
 room, still nursing his wrath. 
 
 Nan finished her task as usual, but she felt dis- 
 turbed. She was sure that Mrs. Richardson had 
 seen the by-play. She wished she knew what had 
 really happened, and she had half a mind to tell 
 her. She concluded not to do so, however, and 
 went home to pour her story into Clara's sym- 
 pathetic ear. 
 
 That lady was rather inclined to be amused, and 
 she thought that Nan had been too hard upon the 
 young man. 
 
 " How could you resist any one with such a pic- 
 turesque name?" she laughed. 
 
 " It's no laughing matter, Clara. I'll have to 
 stop going to Mrs. Richardson unless he keeps 
 out of the boudoir, and I hate to lose the money 
 she pays me." 
 
 Meantime, Mr. Vivian Richardson had thought 
 out his scheme of revenge, He delicately in- 
 timated to his stepmother that her amanuensis 
 was " making eyes at him." A hint was enough 
 for Mrs. Richardson. She flew into a rage and 
 assured her son that she would protect him from 
 the wiles of that forward upstart. This, with 
 other names, equally misapplied, was hurled at 
 poor Nan, who would not have recognized herself 
 by Mrs. Richardson's description. 
 
 Mr. Vivian Richardson lighted a cigar and, 
 assuring himself that revenge was quite as sweet
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 207' 
 
 as it was said to be, went out to have a game of 
 billiards. 
 
 Mrs. Richardson met Nan as usual and satis- 
 fied herself that the menu cards she had taken 
 home to paint were satisfactorily finished before 
 she opened fire. Nan was well into the week's 
 accounts before Mrs. Richardson said, in icy 
 tones : 
 
 " Miss Wynkoop, I am disappointed in you." 
 
 Nan dropped her pen and wheeled around. 
 She did not say anything. Mrs. Richardson 
 might refer to the menu cards, or, possibly, her 
 accounts. 
 
 But the next words left no room for doubt. 
 " I regret that you have so far forgotten your 
 position as to try to attract the attention of my 
 son." 
 
 Nan's head swam. For an instant she felt that 
 she must throw the inkstand at her. Her 
 mother's daughter in such a position ! She had 
 her temper under control in a moment, and rising 
 at her desk, she said in fairly calm fashion : 
 
 " Mrs. Richardson, I have heard quite enough. 
 It is your son, not I, who has forgotten himself 
 when he presumed to try to attract the attention 
 of a self-respecting girl. I should never have 
 thought twice of his existence if he had not 
 thrust himself before my attention." 
 
 " Oh, it won't do to take this turn. You are a 
 poor girl, and it would no doubt be a fine thing
 
 208 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 for you to attract the attention of a gentleman 
 like Vivian." 
 
 " Gentleman ! He has no claim to the name. 
 I have been basely insulted in your house, Mrs. 
 Richardson. I consider my engagement with 
 you at an end. I won't tell you what I think of 
 your son and of your treatment of me, for I don't 
 care to put myself on a level with you. You 
 may send a check for the amount due me to 
 this address ; " and Nan laid her card on the 
 table by Mrs. Richardson's side and swept out of 
 the room, a most irate young lady. 
 
 Mrs. Richardson rang for her maid and was 
 helped to her room, where she indulged in what 
 she called hysterics. It was a close enough imita- 
 tion to frighten Treasure when he came up to see 
 his Precious. When, at last, he gathered the 
 story between Mrs. Richardson's sobs, he was 
 unsympathetic enough to say that probably the 
 girl was right, Vivian was an ass. 
 
 If the young lady with an unusually high color, 
 who was on her way to New York, could have 
 heard his opinion, it would, no doubt, have com- 
 forted her. She laughed several times over the 
 affair, a " hystericky " laugh, as she owned to her- 
 self. She wished she was home with Miss Mi- 
 nerva ; she would comfort her. The way seemed 
 endless, but at last she reached the studio. Clara 
 sat painting, but Miss Minerva was out. 
 
 " You are home early," Miss Henshawe ob-
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 209 
 
 served. No answer, and she looked up. " Oh, 
 my dear Nan, did that old cat 
 
 " Yes, she did. Clara, I feel so humiliated. I 
 can't stand it." 
 
 Miss Henshawe put away her paints and 
 brushes ; then she went over to the divan and sat 
 down by Nan. " Now tell me all about it," she 
 demanded. 
 
 Nan obeyed. She laughed sometimes and 
 sometimes she cried a little before the story was 
 finished. 
 
 " I don't see why you should care," was Miss 
 Henshawe's verdict, as she stroked the Titian-red 
 hair which she so much admired. " Of course 
 the boy isn't worth minding, and as for the 
 woman, I think you are even with her. Now put 
 the whole affair out of your mind. Probably it 
 is a good thing that it happened ; you were tiring 
 yourself too much by that trip and work. It cost 
 you much more in strength than it was worth to 
 you in money. I'm going to tease Minerva to 
 give us something extra good for dinner." 
 
 When Nan talked the affair over with Miss 
 Minerva after dinner, she told her she would not 
 think of it again; Nan was not to blame, and she 
 had conducted herself like a lady. 
 
 Miss Minerva and Nan were in the kitchen 
 " doing " the dinner dishes ; Clara was entertain- 
 ing which means quarrelling with Basil Parrish 
 in the studio. The sound of their voices rasped 
 4
 
 2io Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 on Nan's nerves. She would not join them, 
 though Miss Henshawe came twice to call her. 
 She couldn't join them; she was out of touch 
 with them. 
 
 After a while she went to her little room, 
 meaning to fall asleep at once and forget her 
 troubles. But sleep would not come at her call. 
 She lay awake till midnight going over the 
 Richardson affair. Sometimes she laughed and 
 the next moment she would bury her face in her 
 pillow and sob. She felt wounded ; she could 
 not forget this, her first real trouble. She wanted 
 some one to talk to some one even more sym- 
 pathetic than Minerva Henshawe. She wanted 
 her mother. At that moment she loathed New 
 York, and she would gladly have put it behind 
 her. She tried to comfort herself by thinking of 
 her work, but she did not care for her pictures 
 then. She rose and lighted the gas and looked 
 at them, but to no purpose. 
 
 " They are daubs, every one of them," she 
 said. "I can't paint, and I don't care if I can't." 
 She crept out into the studio. Perhaps her 
 chef d'aeuvre, the portrait of Grandma Wynkoop, 
 would seem worth havingdone. But, no ; grandma 
 looked as if she might be saying some sharp 
 thing. Yet somebody had praised it, somebody 
 who ought to know when a portrait was good. 
 " They say these things to encourage me," Nan 
 said, as she turned out the gas in the studio and
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 went back to bed. " I ought to be teaching school 
 this very minute. If not this very minute, nine 
 o'clock this morrow morning. Oh, dear, what a 
 pity that children grow up. I wish I were a little 
 girl again." 
 
 She fell asleep after a while, but she awoke 
 several times before morning, and went over the 
 affair again. When she awoke in the morning, it 
 was with a consciousness of a weight on her 
 mind. She made a failure of eating her break- 
 fast, and called down a scolding from Miss Hen- 
 shawe for letting such a silly thing as that Rich- 
 ardson affair worry her. 
 
 Nan went to the art-school, and did her work 
 in some fashion, she scarcely knew how. It was 
 criticism day, and the instructor was in what the 
 students were wont to call " a mood." He dis- 
 pensed his remarks very freely, and when he 
 came to Nan's easel, he made no comment for a 
 moment. " It's coming," thought poor Nan. " I 
 deserve it ; I know I can't paint." 
 
 " Miss Wynkoop, there is no excuse for such 
 work from you," he said curtly, and passed on. 
 
 She sat with bowed head, feeling as if she had 
 been struck, when the girl whose easel stood 
 next to her said, " That was a compliment worth 
 having." 
 
 Nan raised her eyes, " A compliment ? " she re- 
 peated. " I feel as if he had boxed my ears." 
 
 " You are very foolish. It was a compliment
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 to your every-day work, a great compliment. I 
 wish he had said it to me." 
 
 It was time for the class to stop work, and Nan 
 wearily gathered up her paints and brushes, and 
 put them in her locker. She felt as if she never 
 wanted to see them again. 
 
 A number of the art students were in the car 
 she took. Ordinarily, she enjoyed the ride up- 
 town, and did her share of the conversation, 
 but to-day everything jarred on her. After a 
 luncheon with Miss Minerva, she went to see 
 Miss Frost, but found that she was out of town 
 and would not return till evening. Nan stood 
 undecided ; she did not want to go home, though 
 there was some work to be done for the Headlight. 
 She couldn't work ; there was no sense in making 
 the attempt. She walked along in an aimless 
 way, hardly knowing in what direction she went. 
 After a few moments, she found herself passing a 
 small church. Beside the door was the invita- 
 tion, " Come ye apart, and rest a while." Nan 
 went in and sat down not far from the door. 
 One or two people, evidently strangers in the 
 city, were looking at the windows. Now and 
 then a quietly-dressed woman walked in, perhaps 
 dropped on her knees a moment, and then went 
 out again, the calm expression on her face prov- 
 ing the truth of the words over the door : " This is 
 the house of God, the very gate of heaven." 
 
 Nan lowered her own head. She did not frame
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 2 13 
 
 any petition, but in some way she made known 
 to the pitying All-Father that she was lonely and 
 downcast, and that she needed help. When, 
 after a moment, she raised her head, she did not 
 leave the church. Presently the organist slipped 
 before the organ and began his daily practice. 
 The music soothed her, and she still kept her 
 seat till the practice hour was over and the 
 organist locked his instrument. 
 
 She walked home with a lighter step than she 
 had come. Life was still worth living. She 
 could look up, and out, and beyond. To Miss 
 Henshawe's great relief, she did justice to her 
 dinner, and when some artistic people called, she 
 did her share of the entertainment. 
 
 When she went to her room that night she 
 treated the pictures with the usual respect. 
 
 The first mail in the morning brought a check 
 from Mr. Richardson, fiere, for thirty-one dollars. 
 He explained that he had taken the liberty of 
 adding twenty-five dollars to the amount due Miss 
 Wynkoop. No doubt she had been much annoyed 
 by the affair of Tuesday, and he hoped she would 
 accept this little bonus as a testimony of his re- 
 spect. 
 
 " He has even worse taste than I gave him credit 
 for," said Nan, passing the note and check over 
 to Miss Henshavv. " No doubt he means well 
 enough. Do these people think that money is 
 everything to a working woman? "
 
 2 14 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 Nan returned the check, with a brief note, de- 
 clining Mr. Richardson's bonus, and requesting 
 him to send her a check for exactly six dollars, 
 which he did by return mail. 
 
 Nan cashed the check and put the money in 
 her well-worn little purse. That ended her ac- 
 quaintance with the Richardson family.
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 As Nan neared her own door one afternoon 
 she saw an old lady standing in the vestibule of 
 the opposite house. Her hands were full of par- 
 cels and small satchels, and she carried in addition 
 a large pot of sweet rose geranium. She seemed 
 to be trying to find her way into the apartment 
 house, for she peered at the names under the bells 
 and carefully examined the number on the door, 
 comparing it with a number on a slip of paper in 
 her hand. Then she rang the janitor's bell, but 
 to no purpose ; evidently that functionary was out. 
 
 Nan watched her for a moment, than she ran 
 across the street to offer her assistance. The little 
 old woman's figure looked familiar, and as Nan 
 spoke she turned, and said : " Will you tell me 
 how to get into these pesky flat houses? I want 
 to find my granddaughter, Annice Wynkoop. 
 She's an artist, perhaps you have heard of her. 
 I know this is the right number, or it ought to be, 
 for the next one is 66. If 67 doesn't come next 
 to 66, I'd like to know why If I could find my 
 spectacles, I'd read these names better; but I 
 can't seem to make 'em out." 
 215
 
 2i6 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 " Yes ; I have heard of your granddaughter," 
 said Nan. " The truth is, I know her very well, 
 but I don't think much of her." 
 
 Grandma turned indignantly on the speaker, and 
 then she did not need her spectacles to help her. 
 
 " Why, Nan Wynkoop ! " 
 
 " Why, Grandma Wynkoop ! How did you 
 ever happen to drop down here. I'm so surprised 
 I can't believe my eyes." 
 
 " I don't see why I shouldn't come to New York 
 if I want to. It's a free country, ain't it? " 
 
 " Of course, I'm very glad to see you, but I 
 wish I had known you were coming." 
 
 " Why ? Your pa wanted me to write you, but 
 I was afraid you'd make up some excuse and try 
 to keep me to home." 
 
 " No ; I wouldn't, only I would have met you, 
 and you wouldn't have had so much trouble to 
 find me. Come over to the flat. You are on the 
 wrong side of the street." 
 
 Nan took the bags and bundles, but grandma 
 wouldn't give up the flower pot. In a few mo- 
 ments Nan had the old lady resting in a large chair 
 in the studio. 
 
 Both Miss Henshaw and Miss Minerva were out, 
 so Nan had all the honors to do. She lighted the 
 alcohol lamp and made tea for grandma, the old 
 lady looking her approval. 
 
 " It's the best thing I've tasted since last night. 
 I was so flustered that I couldn't eat my break-
 
 " Why, Grandma Wynkoop! How did you ever happen to drop down here? 
 -Page 216. Annice TT"/ynfcoo|>.
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 217 
 
 fast. Your ma put me up a lunch, but the cars 
 jolted so that I couldn't eat. He wanted me to 
 get out at Poughkeepsie and get a lunch, but 
 I thought there was no use in wasting money 
 when I had more lunch than I could eat in my 
 bag." 
 
 " Who is he, grandma ? " 
 
 " Oh, that's telling. Yes, I'll have another cup. 
 That's a pretty teapot. Do you know what it 
 cost ? " 
 
 " No ; but it probably cost a good deal. Clara 
 is very extravagant about china, and she is collect- 
 ing teapots. Won't you have something more ? 
 Now, lie down on this couch and rest." 
 
 " I never lie down in the daytime, you know 
 that very well. The tea rested me. Do you 
 know where the Henshawes get their tea ? I 
 wouldn't mind taking a half-pound of that to your 
 ma. I am comfortable, I tell you. No, I don't 
 want a footstool. My, how many jim-cracks there 
 are in this room. I should think it would keep 
 you busy dusting it." 
 
 " It wouldn 't get dusted very often if Miss 
 Minerva didn't do it. Now, Grandma Wynkoop, 
 I want to know how you came, and who you came 
 with." 
 
 " I came on the cars, of course. Did you think 
 I walked ? " 
 
 " Who did you come with? " 
 
 " Haven't I got 'sense enough to come alone ?
 
 21 8 Annie e Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 Couldn't your pa or your uncle David put me on 
 the train at Macedonia?" 
 
 " I know you didn't come alone ; and, besides, 
 you said something about he wanting to get 
 luncheon for you." 
 
 " It was the teacher, if you must know. Ain't 
 he got a right to come to New York if he wants 
 to?" 
 
 " Certainly, I have no objections. If you came 
 with Mr. Bamford why didn't he see that you 
 reached here safely ? " 
 
 " Because I wouldn't let him. I told him that 
 I didn't know how you would feel about his 
 coming, and I'd come alone. He was mighty set 
 about coming with me ; but teacher or no teacher, 
 I had my way. So he put me in one of those 
 things with two wheels, with a man sitting up in 
 the air behind, what do you call 'em ? " 
 
 " Hansoms?" 
 
 " Yes ; homely would come nearer the truth. 
 I felt as if I was locked up in a cupboard with 
 those doors shut in front of me. The teacher, he 
 told the driver where to drive, and he gave him 
 money, and away we went in great style, me a-jolt- 
 ing till I thought my bonnet would come off. 
 When we got pretty near your number I told the 
 man to let me out. But says he, ' the young man 
 told me not to let you out till you were at the right 
 place. ' ' Never mind,' says I, ' what the young 
 man said. You are dealing with the old woman
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 219 
 
 now.' He kind of grinned at that, and he opened 
 the cupboard from behind some way, and I got 
 out. I walked along till I came to 66. That 
 number I saw very plainly, but I couldn't make 
 out the 67 on the next one. Then I looked at 
 the names, but I couldn't find any Henshawes. 
 Just as I was looking for my spectacles you came 
 along." 
 
 " You were on the wrong side of the street, 
 grandma. You were on the side where the even 
 numbers were ; we are on the odd side," 
 
 " I guess the whole thing is odd enough. I 
 couldn't find a knocker nor a door bell or any- 
 thing, but one bell that said janitor, and I pulled 
 that for good, but nobody came." 
 
 " To-morrow, I'll show you how to get into an 
 apartment house. It is quite an intricate affair. 
 Are they all well at home ? " 
 
 " Yes ; all but your pa. He's got a felon on his 
 finger, and of course, it had to come right in the 
 time when he ought to be drawing his cord wood. 
 Your pa is unlucky. Your ma sent you some 
 jelly, and Charlotte made you a chocolate cake. 
 The things are in my trunk up to the depot." 
 
 " I'll go out and get an expressman if you will 
 give me your check." 
 
 " I've got it tied up in a corner of my pocket 
 handkerchief, but the trunk ain't a-coming here, 
 Nan." 
 
 "Why not?"
 
 220 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 " Because I ain't a-going to stay here. I'm 
 going to put up at the Astor House." 
 
 " The Astor House ! Why it's way down town. 
 You have got to stay here. There is plenty of 
 room." 
 
 " No doubt you and the Henshawes think 
 there is plenty of room, but I ain't used to sleep- 
 ing in a folding-bed in a room about as big as a 
 quart cup. " 
 
 " You needn't sleep in a folding-bed. We 
 haven't one in the apartment, for we all despise 
 them. You shall have my room, and I'll room 
 with Clara." 
 
 " No ; I don't mean to put anybody out. I'm 
 a-going to the Astor House. That's where your 
 grandpa and I put up when we came down in 
 1864. We were at the Astor House four days, 
 and I tell you they sent in a bill. But it was 
 worth it. Such polite servants! If you just 
 moved your little finger they seemed to know 
 what you wanted. Oh, it was very stylish! I 
 want to go there again, but I don't mean to stay 
 there. I've just got my interest money, and I 
 mean to have a good time once in my life. I'm 
 going to Central Park, and to Greenwood burying- 
 ground, and I'm going to take a carriage, a real 
 carriage, not one of those hansom things, and 
 drive around the town to my heart's content ; I 
 don't care if it costs as much as a dollar. I want 
 to see the Brooklyn Bridge and the statue of
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 221 
 
 Liberty, and I mean to have a good time. Your 
 grandpa and I had a good time. We ate in 
 restaurants, and we heard Beecher preach, and 
 we went to a show. It was East Lynne, and your 
 grandpa and I both cried. We didn't let it get 
 out in Macedonia that we'd been to a theater, for 
 it wouldn't have done. Your grandpa was deacon 
 in the church. Yes ; we had a good time, but it 
 cost considerable. I remember it was in the fall, 
 just after thanksgiving, and we came down on 
 the turkeys, and we went back on the year- 
 ling." 
 
 The Henshawes came in just then from a calling 
 expedition. They were both pleased to see Mrs. 
 Wynkoop. Clara's welcome was very flattering 
 to the old lady. Miss Minerva was, of course, 
 less enthusiastic, but grandma felt " drawn to 
 her," as she afterward explained to Nan. The 
 pot of rose geranium which grandma had been 
 holding all this time, proved to be for Miss 
 Minerva, who accepted it with cordial thanks. 
 After an hour's chat, grandma rose, saying she 
 must be going. Nan looked quite nonplussed, 
 for she knew how strong was the old lady's will, 
 and that if she had set her heart upon "putting 
 up " at the Astor House, nothing short of lock 
 and key would stop her. Nan followed Clara into 
 her room and hastily explained the situation. 
 
 Miss Henshawe sat down on the bed and 
 laughed till she cried. " Isn't it too funny ? Oh, I
 
 222 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 always said she was as good as a play. Don't 
 worry, Nan ; we'll circumvent her somehow." 
 
 " You don't know Grandma Wynkoop as well 
 as I do." 
 
 " Leave her to me. I'll keep her from going to 
 the Astor House to-night, and we'll trust to luck 
 for to-morrow." 
 
 " I'm real glad you came to-night, grandma, for 
 you'll see some one you are curious about." 
 
 " That Frost man who gets so much for his 
 pictures, and goes out West to dig holes in the 
 ground ? " 
 
 " No, he is out West now, digging holes. I'm 
 sorry that you can't see him. But Mr. Parrish is 
 coming to dinner, and you'll find him very enter- 
 taining. If you'll tell me where Mr. Bamford is 
 I'll send for him to come to dinner." 
 
 " Why, he's going to stop for me at half-past 
 five to take me to the Astor House. He never 
 puts up there, but he said he'd go if I was set on 
 it, and I am. But perhaps he'll stop to supper." 
 
 " I am sure he will. Now you come into Nan's 
 room and freshen yourself up a bit before dinner. 
 It's quite a trip from Macedonia." 
 
 " I don't mind the trip. I've traveled a good 
 deal in my time. My husband, Nan's grandfather, 
 and I went to Buffalo twice. Is this where Nan 
 rooms ? Of course she'd have pictures and such 
 stuff about, or it wouldn't be Nan. How is she 
 doing? Is she improving ?"
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 223 
 
 " Yes ; that child is a genius. It is a pity that 
 she has to think about ways and means so much. 
 She illustrates for some papers, and does some 
 other work afternoons. It tires her and takes the 
 time which she might rather spend on her work." 
 
 " Humph ! I thought Harriet was paying her 
 way this year." 
 
 " Nan takes as little help as possible ; she does 
 quite a good deal toward her expenses. It would 
 be a pity if the child should break down, for she 
 has great gifts." 
 
 " It would be poor economy. I'll see if I 
 haven't some money in an old stocking when I 
 go home. I don't understand Nan, but, if she's 
 bound to paint all her life, I want her to have a 
 good chance. Sometimes I think it's better to 
 give your money away while you are alive, and 
 can see it do some good, than to leave it for folks 
 to quarrel over." 
 
 " I am sure you are right," Miss Henshawe as- 
 sented. " Poor Nan is having rather a hard time, 
 though she won't own it. She is very independ- 
 ent." 
 
 " She takes that after me. I would have been 
 a regular new woman if I had lived now. I don't 
 know but I might have been an artist. Don't tell 
 anybody this ; it is between you and me." 
 
 Grandma was smoothing the crimps, so Miss 
 Henshawe could indulge in the smile which would 
 not be controlled.
 
 224 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 " How is Nan having a hard time? " grandma 
 demanded, when the hair was arranged to her sat- 
 isfaction. " I thought she was having a pretty 
 easy time. She wears her good clothes every day, 
 and does nothing but paint. Emma Anna and 
 Charlotte work hard. Emma Anna has to fit all 
 sorts of folks, and they are hard to suit. The thin 
 ones want their dresses made so they'll look fat, 
 and the fat ones want to look lean. I tell you, it 
 is hard work. Then Charlotte has a hard school. 
 I wouldn't teach school ; I'd go to the poor-house 
 first. I didn't blame Nan when she up and said 
 she wouldn't teach school. Harriet gets her liv- 
 ing easy. She just sits there the whole day long 
 and writes on library cards and gives out books. 
 And she makes considerable more than Emma 
 Anna or Charlotte. I wonder how much longer 
 Nan will need to study before she can support 
 herself." 
 
 " Oh, it will take a good deal of study, grandma. 
 But when she does get able to work for herself 
 she will make more money than all her sisters 
 together." 
 
 Mrs. Wynkoop opened her eyes. " Mercy ! 
 She'll do 'most as well as those painting men she 
 tells about. I didn't suppose she worked hard." 
 
 " She does, though. As I said, she has a hard 
 time," Miss Henshawe went on, determined to 
 make the most of her opportunity to win grand- 
 ma's sympathy. " I believe I'll tell her about the
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 225 
 
 Richardson business," she said to herself ; " it may 
 open her purse strings." 
 
 Grandma was just as indignant as Miss Hen- 
 shawe had wished her to be. When she had freed 
 her mind a little, she began to trace the genealogy 
 of the Richardson family. 
 
 " I shouldn't wonder a bit if they belonged to 
 those Tim Richardsons I used to know when I 
 first moved to Macedonia. They moved to 
 Brooklyn, at least they moved somewhere down 
 this way, and I heard they were making money, 
 hand over fist. I always knew there was some- 
 thing wrong with them, and they wouldn't come 
 to any good. I wonder what kind of a looking 
 man this Ben Richardson was. Did Nan say ? " 
 
 " No. Now grandma, you mustn't let Nan 
 know that I told you about this. She would be 
 angry with me." 
 
 " Goodness, child, I ain't so old that I can't keep 
 a secret, but I'd like to know how this Ben Rich- 
 ardson looks." 
 
 " I didn't say that his name was Ben Richau: 
 son. I don't know what it is." 
 
 " It must be Ben. Tim was his father's name, 
 and Ben was the oldest child. He'd be about old 
 enough now to have a young upstart of a son 
 And it's just like the Richardsons to set a great 
 deal by their family. Not that they have any 
 thing to be proud of. The Wynkoops have al 
 ways been better people. Nan is good enough
 
 226 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 for anybody. Why, she could have had the 
 teacher just as well as not. Don't let her know 
 that I told you this. 
 
 " Now that I think of it, Tim Richardson's sis- 
 ter married a man who was in a bank, and he stole 
 from the bank, and they had a dreadful to-do 
 over it." 
 
 Just here Mrs. Wynkoop's study of the Rich- 
 ardson family tree was cut short by Miss Minerva, 
 who announced Mr. Bamford's arrival.
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 MISS HENSHAWE'S little dinner was a great suc- 
 cess, even grandma acknowledged that it was. 
 Mr. Bamford accepted an invitation to remain, 
 and as grandma afterwards remarked, "he was 
 quite lively," notwithstanding the fact that Mr. 
 Parrish was present. That gentleman fell a victim 
 to Grandma Wynkoop's charms, and strange to 
 say, she seemed to like him. He devoted himself 
 to her, and gave her his arm to the dining-room. 
 At first grandma was inclined to resent this atten- 
 tion, as a hint that her age made support neces- 
 sary, but when she saw Miss Henshawe take Mr. 
 Bamford's arm, she concluded that it was a New 
 York "notion." 
 
 When soup was placed before her, Miss Min- 
 erva's own particular soup, she was about to de- 
 cline it, on the ground that she did not need any 
 beef tea, but as the others were being served, she 
 concluded to partake of it. She was very anxious 
 not to do anything which would mortify Nan, and 
 she thought it would have been better could she 
 have polished up her society manner by a brief 
 stay at the Astor House. When in her own home 
 she had possessed many times the value of the 
 227
 
 228 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 worldly goods of the Henshawes, but there was 
 something about the cheap little flat which im- 
 pressed her. She enjoyed the dinner and the 
 bright conversation which went on around her, 
 and she felt that this was society. She was glad 
 that Nan had such opportunities, and she was 
 elated that the teacher could see her in such sur- 
 roundings. 
 
 She did not go to the Astor House that even- 
 ing ; she slept in Nan's bed. As she said at 
 breakfast, it gave her a spooky feeling to wake 
 up and see a lot of queer faces looking down 
 from the wall. Nan laughed and admitted that 
 the effect might be uncanny if one was unaccus- 
 tomed to it. 
 
 During the day Mrs. Wynkoop carried out her 
 intention of putting up at the Astor House. 
 Nan knew that she might as well yield first as 
 last, but she exacted a promise that after grandma 
 had done the Brooklyn Bridge, Greenwood, and 
 the Statue of Liberty, she would return to the 
 flat. Mr. Bam ford would return to Macedonia in 
 a couple of days, and then she would come back 
 to Nan and Clara. 
 
 She kept her promise, and came back happy 
 and important. She had seen all she wanted to 
 see, and more. Mr. Bamford was a capital one to 
 go around with ; they had been to St. Paul's 
 Church and she had sat in the pew where George 
 Washington used to sit, and they had visited
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 229 
 
 Alexander Hamilton's grave in Trinity church- 
 yard. Besides this, they had gone to Staten 
 Island on the ferry and called on Mr. Barn- 
 ford's folks, and had taken a long trolley ride on 
 the island. 
 
 Mr. Bamford was to leave at midnight, but he 
 told Nan he had one more treat in store for her 
 grandmother. He wanted to take her to see Joe 
 Jeffe'rson. Did Nan think she would go to the 
 theater ? Nan replied that she thought she 
 would, provided no one in Macedonia found it out. 
 Mr. Bamford smilingly assured her that he would 
 never divulge the secret, and Nan promised to 
 have her grandmother ready when Mr. Bamford 
 should call. 
 
 " It can't be any harm," said grandma, who had 
 her bonnet on an hour before Mr. Bamford could 
 reasonably be expected. " Clara says Joseph Jef- 
 ferson is a good man, and that the play is all 
 about things that happened in the Catskill 
 mountains, our own Catskills. Nan, I shouldn't 
 wonder a bit if Joseph Jefferson had boarded 
 there some summer. I don't believe in going to 
 the theater, but Clara says it is a real moral play. 
 I wouldn't want you to go, Nan, if it wasn't. I 
 wish Miss Minerva was going. Didn't the teacher 
 ask her?" 
 
 " Yes, but she has seen it, and she seldom goes 
 out." 
 
 " Clara is going ? "
 
 230 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 " Yes ; she is going." 
 
 " It's real nice of Mr. Bamford, but it will be 
 expensive. I feel as if I ought to offer to pay 
 my way and yours too." 
 
 " I think you would better not, grandma. I 
 think Mr. Bamford really wants to take you. Of 
 course it is quite proper for Clara and me to go to 
 chaperon you giddy young people." 
 
 " The teacher is young. You always act as if 
 he wasn't. Nannie, you ought to have taken the 
 teacher. He's a nice young man, and he won't 
 stay in Macedonia long. He is figuring on 
 another place ; he told me so. He's been seeing 
 an educational bureau man ; that's part of his 
 business down. Do you think he has given you 
 up?" 
 
 " I am sure he has. Grandma Wynkoop, if you 
 ever say anything to him " 
 
 " I hope I know what to say. Does my bonnet 
 set straight ? Ain't he late ? " 
 
 " No, there is lots of time. I believe you 
 want to go, grandma. Don't pretend that you 
 don't." 
 
 " Well, since it's a moral play, and all about our 
 own backyard, as you might say, I'd kind of like 
 to see it." 
 
 They were a trifle late. The curtain had risen, 
 and Rip was being roundly scolded by his rosy- 
 cheeked vrouw by the time grandma was thorough- 
 ly settled. She swept the stage with Miss Hen-
 
 Annice Wynkoofi, Artist. 231 
 
 shawe's opera glass, and remarked, " She'd never 
 get the dirt out of the clothes by washing that 
 way. 
 
 " She's a dreadful scold, but I don't know as I 
 blame her," was the next remark. " Rip must 
 have been dreadful trying. He must have had a 
 tidy little property before he took to drinking. 
 
 "That's mighty good acting," Grandma Wyn- 
 koop said after a while. " I declare, I forget every 
 once in a while that the whole thing ain't real. 
 It's first-rate acting, because it might be one of 
 those half drunk, half crazy Dutchmen, up back 
 of Macedonia. Take them when they have been 
 to town and are full of liquor why Rip Van 
 Winkle is the living image of them." 
 
 " You are right, grandma. It's good acting, 
 for it is just like the Sissons when they are intox- 
 icated." 
 
 " There's too much drinking in it to suit me. 
 Ain't he going to reform and sign the pledge ? Yes ; 
 he's saying he'll never drink another drop. How 
 glad Mrs. Van Winkle will be. O dear me, there 
 he goes again." 
 
 Grandma kept watching for the hoped-for re- 
 formation all through the play, and when the 
 curtain fell for the last time she sadly remarked to 
 the teacher that the play ought to have had a 
 moral. It would have been so much better if 
 Rip had reformed. She had been in tears half 
 the time, and she was tired and weak from the
 
 232 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 strain on her sympathies. Nan got her wraps on 
 her and when they got her down into the street 
 the air revived her. 
 
 Mr. Bamford left them at the door of their 
 house, and rushed away to catch the midnight 
 train. 
 
 " When are you coming home, Mrs. Wynkoop ?" 
 he asked. " Your son will want to know." 
 
 " Tell them I don't know. If my visit is out 
 when Deacon Halleck comes down I'll go back 
 with him. If not I'll stay till I'm good and ready 
 to go back. I don't know but I might take a notion 
 to stay down here and learn to paint," she added 
 this for Clara's benefit. 
 
 Mr. Bamford laughed. " Well, good-by, grand- 
 ma. Have a good time." 
 
 " I am. I'm real fashionable. Mr. Parrish is 
 going to have a party in his studio, and I am 
 invited." 
 
 "Invited? I should say you were. Grandma 
 Wynkoop, the party is given in your honor." 
 
 " I'll tell the people in Macedonia how giddy 
 you are." 
 
 " Don't tell them that I went to the theater." 
 
 " I won't, I promise. There ! I must run for 
 that car or I shall miss my train." He shook 
 hands with the three women and rushed away. 
 
 Grandma certainly was very lively for an old 
 lady of seventy. She partook of the nice little 
 supper which Miss Minerva had ready for them,
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 233 
 
 and instead of laying awake on account of it, as 
 many an old person would have felt it her duty 
 to do, she slept the sleep of the just. 
 
 Mr. Parrish's party came off two days after the 
 theater party. Grandma was full of curiosity 
 about his apartment, and when she saw it she felt 
 that it more than met her expectations. She 
 considered herself quite a judge of studios, 
 having seen Miss Henshawe's and Miss Frost's. 
 They went early, at Mr. Parrish's request, so he 
 could show her all over the place. And he did 
 display all his treasures, from the desk which had 
 once graced the palace of the doge of Venice 
 down to the new tea-kettle in the kitchen. Nan 
 and Miss Henshawe, having seen all these things, 
 remained in the studio and examined Mr. Par- 
 rish's latest paintings. Nan thought it hardly 
 fair of Miss Henshawe to say such scathing 
 things of his pictures behind the artist's back, but 
 that young woman assured her that what he 
 didn't know wouldn't hurt him, and that she had 
 to free her artistic soul. 
 
 "You're only mad because you haven't that 
 desk yourself. I don't blame you; it's a dream." 
 
 " I'm so jealous that I can scarcely be civil 
 to him. I have had serious thoughts of offer- 
 ing to marry him just so I could have that 
 desk." 
 
 " I don't believe he would accept you ; he 
 would suspect you of some ulterior motive. I
 
 234 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 wonder who is coming to-day. Perhaps it is to 
 be only a family party. ' 
 
 " Miss Frost was invited, I know, and a couple 
 of those long-haired friends of Basil's. He told 
 them to come in all their war-paint, so that 
 grandma could get an idea of Bohemia. I am 
 more interested in what we are to have to eat 
 than I am in the company. I wonder what one 
 would call this function? A luncheon, I suppose." 
 
 "Grandma calls it a party." 
 
 " It's a good word, so comprehensive. Basil 
 proposed giving a tea, but I told him that grand- 
 ma had attended several. Here comes some one. 
 I hope it is the boys. This is stupid, I must say- 
 I've made fun of every picture and Basil is still 
 pottering around the kitchen cupboard. I despise 
 such a womanly man." 
 
 The new arrivals turned out to be the two 
 artist friends. They remained in the dressing- 
 room for some time, and when they came in they 
 were attired in velvet blouses, well smeared with 
 paint, and everything else to harmonize. Grand- 
 ma put on her " specs " in order to get a good 
 view of them. " The pre-Raphaelite brother- 
 hood " was the name Miss Henshawe had given 
 this little coterie, which included Basil. 
 
 "What do you think of them, grandma?" 
 asked Miss Henshawe, without taking the trouble 
 to lower her voice. 
 
 " Humph ! I'd like to see their pictures."
 
 Annie e Wynkoop, Artist. 235 
 
 " Oh, no, you wouldn't ; they are much worse 
 than Basil's." 
 
 Miss Frost came presently, and as she shook 
 hands with her host she explained that her 
 brother was detained, but he would probably be 
 there shortly. 
 
 "Her brother! 'Sit still, my heart,'" said 
 Miss Henshawe, turning to Nan. 
 
 The girl's breath came faster, but she con- 
 trolled her color. " Thoroughbred " was Miss 
 Henshawe's mental comment as she turned to 
 tell grandma that the Frost man was coming. 
 
 " I'm real glad. I've heard so much about him 
 that I should hate to go back to Macedonia with- 
 out setting eyes on him. How did he happen to 
 be here? I thought he was out West." 
 
 " I heard his sister say that his coming was a 
 surprise to her." 
 
 Just then Miss Frost took the chair next 
 Grandma Wynkoop. " I was so surprised to see 
 Theodore this morning. He rushed down on 
 some business and goes back day after to-mor- 
 row. Mr. Parrish met him in the street and in- 
 vited him to his What shall I call it, Miss 
 Henshawe?" 
 
 Miss Henshawe sh'ook her head, v "Nan and I 
 have been wondering. It all depends on what he 
 gives us to eat. Oh, here come some more 
 people ! I hope Basil has plates enough to go 
 around."
 
 236 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 By this time a dozen people gathered in the 
 studio, and presently the summons came to the 
 banquet. 
 
 " It's a spread," said Clara to Nan ; " Basil has 
 outdone himself. I hope there will be a flaw 
 somewhere, or he will be so puffed up with pride 
 and conceit that there will be no managing 
 him. Look how pleased grandma looks in her 
 seat as guest of honor. She's a social success ; 
 there's no denying the fact." 
 
 There was no flaw in the luncheon, to Miss 
 Henshawe's disappointment. Afterward the pre- 
 Raphaelite Brotherhood sang trios, and then Mr. 
 Parrish performed on the guitar. 
 
 Miss Henshawe told Miss Frost that she al- 
 ways wanted to turn her back on him when he 
 put that green ribbon around his neck and 
 "touched the light guitar." He played very 
 well, though, and received much applause. 
 
 Mr. Frost did not come in till the festivities 
 were nearly over. It was impossible to get away 
 from contractors, as he explained to Mr. Parrish. 
 Nan thought that that gentleman bore up bravely 
 under his disappointment. 
 
 Mr. Frost made his way over to Miss Henshawe 
 and Mrs. Wynkoop. " I should have recognized 
 you from Miss Wynkoop's portrait," he said, 
 when he had been duly presented. 
 
 He could not have made a more unfortunate 
 remark That portrait like her I
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 237 
 
 " He has done it now," whispered Miss Hen- 
 shawe, and Nan, who was talking to the pre- 
 Raphelites, had the same thought. " What a 
 good time Miss Henshawe was having with Mr. 
 Frost," was the next thought. The pre-Raphael- 
 ites were uninteresting at their best, and to-day 
 they were simply stupid. Nan was glad when Mr. 
 Parrish carried her away to look at some swords 
 and yatagans which had just been shipped to him. 
 
 Nan saw nothing of Mr. Frost after he had 
 greeted her, but he walked home with her, and as 
 he bade her good-by at her door he said he would 
 call on Mrs. Wynkoop with his sister the next 
 evening. 
 
 When Nan repeated the message, Mrs. Wyn- 
 koop merely said " Humph ! " She could not 
 forgive him for calling her portrait life-like. 
 
 " Ain't Mr. Parrish got any folks to do for him ? " 
 she asked. " It seems kind of lonesome to live 
 that way. I should think that his sister or his 
 mother would keep house for him. Perhaps, 
 though, he is an orphan." 
 
 " Oh, no. He is well blessed with relatives. 
 I can't imagine his people coming here to 'do, 
 for him, nor his wanting them. Why, bless you, 
 grandma, he is a regular old maid. He loves to 
 live like that." 
 
 " I thought perhaps he hadn't much means, 
 but that party must have cost him a pretty 
 penny."
 
 238 Annie e Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 " It did ; caterer and everything, but he can 
 stand it. The Parrish family are as rich as you 
 please. They are great swells, Boston people. 
 His sisters and mother have no patience with 
 Basil's vagaries. He always was queer. I've 
 known him long before either of us came to New 
 York. No, grandma, we are not engaged. I see 
 you want to ask that. He likes Nan a great deal 
 better than he likes me." 
 
 Grandma did somewhat unbend her dignity 
 when Mr. and Miss Frost called the following 
 evening. She could not resist Mr. Frost, who 
 was in his most genial mood. They sat on a couch 
 in a corner, and she gave him her views on Rip 
 Van Winkle. He listened with the most respect- 
 ful attention, though Nan knew he was suffering 
 from a desire to laugh. 
 
 When Miss Frost said they must go he pro- 
 posed that they go to hear Irving the next even- 
 ing. " I want Mrs. Wynkoop to see him in the 
 Bells. Let us all go, we'll have a regular party. 
 I'll leave for the west a few hours later. It won't 
 make any material difference. You'll go, Miss 
 Wynkoop, and you Miss Minerva, and Miss Hen- 
 shawe ? and I'll answer for Jessica. No one must 
 disappoint me, for it is the last fun I shall have 
 for some months. I shan't come east again till 
 spring." 
 
 Mrs. Wynkoop was a total wreck before the end 
 of the evening. Nan was a little anxious, and
 
 Annie e Wynkoop, Artist. 239 
 
 she asked her if she would like to go home. Her 
 grandmother gave her an indignant no. She was 
 enjoying herself, what would she go home for? 
 
 " You take it so seriously, grandma. Try to 
 remember that it is only a play." 
 
 " You'd better advise me. Any one would 
 think you were my grandmother instead of my 
 granddaughter: There, I've lost a lot, talking to 
 you." 
 
 " I fear it is too much for her," said Mr. Frost, 
 turning to Nan. " She said a good deal about 
 moral plays, and I thought I'd like to have her 
 get an idea of the ethical influence of the stage, 
 of which we hear so much. I'm sorry now, that 
 I didn't take her to see something cheerful some 
 comedy for instance." 
 
 " Oh, tragedy is more in grandma's line." I 
 think this won't hurt her. She is having a very 
 dissipated time. I feel that I never knew the 
 real Grandma Wynkoop till she came to New 
 York." 
 
 " Yet you painted what you will perhaps allow 
 me to call a speaking likeness. My dear Miss 
 Wynkoop, please don't look at me as if I were 
 taking too much upon myself, but I wish you 
 would study with Van Alstyne. I have wished it 
 ever since Miss Henshawe showed me your work. 
 I know that you are in earnest about your art, and 
 as a friend of art and as your friend I presume to. 
 advise you."
 
 240 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 " I can't go to Van Alstyne at present, Mr. 
 Frost, though I do appreciate your kindness and 
 your sister's." 
 
 " It isn't kindness, Miss Wynkoop," he an- 
 swered lightly. " Wehave prophesied great things 
 of you, and we want to be able to say to the 
 world, ' I told you so.' Shall we have another 
 day up the Bronx next summer ? " 
 
 " I hope so," was all Nan could say, for the 
 curtain rose, and grandma said " Ssh ! " 
 
 Grandma showed the effect of late hours when 
 she took her place at the breakfast table next 
 morning. She admitted that she was tired ; but 
 she wouldn't have missed Irving for all one year's 
 interest money. She had a great deal to say 
 about the ethical influence of the stage for the 
 next few days, and she did not seem to mind if 
 all Macedonia knew that she had been to the 
 theater. She even went so far as to say that she 
 wished the minister had been there. 
 
 Deacon Halleck was coming that week, so Mr. 
 Wynkoop wrote, and added that he would feel 
 safer if his mother would come back with the 
 deacon. The old lady had a mind to stay longer 
 to assert her independence, but she really was 
 tired with sight-seeing, and she made her prepar- 
 ations to go back with the deacon. 
 
 " I've had a good time," she said as she waited 
 in the station with Clara and Nan. " I've stood 
 it well, too, as well as a woman of fifty. To think
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 241 
 
 of the Welsh rabbits I have eaten, and never a 
 touch of dyspepsia. It's wonderful. I'm glad 
 I bought one of those chafing dishes. It will be 
 company for me. When I get lonely and think 
 about New York, I'll just cook something in it, 
 and it will bring the whole thing back to me. I 
 wonder if the deacon is getting that trunk checked 
 all right. He is very long about it." 
 
 Miss Henshawe, thinking that Mrs. Wynkoop 
 might have a last word to say to Nan, went to see 
 about the check. 
 
 " There, I thought she'd take the hint. Annice, 
 I have been thinking about you. You are going 
 to be a good painter, and you ought to have a 
 fair chance. How much did your Aunt Annice 
 Woodward leave you ? " 
 
 " Three hundred dollars." 
 
 " Well, I guess the Wynkoop side can do as 
 well by you as the Woodward side. I'm going 
 to put aside three hundred dollars, and I shan't 
 say what I'll do after that is gone. But that will 
 take you through this year, won't it." 
 
 " Oh, yes," cried Nan, feeling that a great bur- 
 den had been lifted from her shoulders. 
 
 " I want you to study with the Van Alstyne 
 man they all rave over, and try to' learn as much 
 as you can for your money. I came to New York 
 more on your account than anything else. I 
 wanted to see what kind of people these painters 
 are. I like them, for the most part. They set 
 16
 
 242 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 a great deal by you, and they tell me they ex- 
 pect you to make your mark yet. There, don't try 
 to thank me. You're welcome. If you weren't 
 you wouldn't get any of my money. There 
 come Clara and the deacon. Yes, they've got 
 the check. You are a nice girl, Nan, and I'm 
 satisfied with you. You are different from the 
 other girls, but somehow I like a little variety. 
 Yes, Deacon Halleck, I'm ready to go back to the 
 country. Don't you think the air feels like snow ? 
 Perhaps there'll be sleighing in Macedonia."
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 NAN began to study with Van Alstyne in Janu- 
 ary. It was her grandmother's wish that she 
 should give up all her outside work for the re- 
 mainder of the year. Grandma herself would 
 "foot the bills," as she vrote Nan. Perhaps 
 after this year was up, Harriet and Nan could 
 stand for the expense, but grandma wanted to 
 see how much Nan would improve during six 
 months' study with the great Van Alstyne. 
 
 Nan felt like an athlete preparing for a race 
 who leaves off every weight. It was such a relief 
 not to be obliged to think of anything but her 
 own legitimate work. Her home with Miss 
 Henshawe and Miss Minerva was very pleasant, 
 and she told herself that never a girl had a better 
 opportunity to learn to paint. Her friends be- 
 lieved in her and their faith was an inspiration. 
 The only trouble was that their belief in her was 
 too strong; they expected too much of her. 
 
 As she told Miss Henshawe, she was so afraid 
 of Mr. Van Alstyne that she knew she couldn't 
 paint at all. She found, however, when she 
 bearded the lion in his den, that he was not so 
 formidable as she had feared. She worked away 
 243
 
 244 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 for a few days, with very little attention from Mr. 
 Van Alstyne. She was perishing to know what 
 he thought of her work, as she told Miss Hen- 
 shawe. 
 
 " Oh, he'll tell you quickly enough. It's his 
 way to keep quiet if he is satisfied with you. 
 Probably you paint so well that he'll never say 
 anything till he tells you that he can teach you 
 nothing more." 
 
 " Don't make fun of me, Clara. This is life or 
 death to me." 
 
 " It's more than that to me, my work, I mean. 
 It's bread and butter. Dying is cheap enough ; 
 it is living that costs. I've had three pairs of 
 shoes since July, and these are getting shabby. 
 I haven't had an order for a miniature in an age. 
 Oh, dear ! Times aren't what they used to be. 
 We'll never get to Paris, Nannie, if we don't save 
 our pennies." 
 
 " Save them ? I shall have to earn them first. 
 I'm not exactly discouraged, but that Van Al- 
 styne man makes me feel about three years old." 
 
 " It isn't a comfortable feeling. You used to 
 have the same sensation when Mr. Frost talked 
 to you." 
 
 " Used to ? I haven't gotten over it. If I didn't 
 know that he is a gentleman I should feel sure 
 that he makes fun of me sometimes." 
 
 " Mr. Van Alstyne and he are very chummy, 
 aren't they ? "
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 245 
 
 " Yes ; Miss Frost says they studied together 
 years ago in Paris." 
 
 " By and by I shall be able to point to you and 
 say with pride that we studied together in Paris. 
 Dear me, I wish we had the money that some 
 waste. I know more girls than I could mention 
 in a week who go over, and they never amount 
 to anything. It seems that they have to go there 
 before they will believe that they can't paint. If 
 you had the money that Basil Parrish has spent 
 in the pursuit of art with a large A, you might 
 be giving Van Alstyne lessons." 
 
 Nan laughed. " Do you suppose he will keep 
 on indefinitely ? Not Van Alstyne, I mean Mr. 
 Parrish." 
 
 " I suppose so. He has money enough to spoil 
 him." 
 
 A few days after Clara came in the studio, 
 where Nan sat, writing letters at the desk. " Pre- 
 pare yourself for a shock," she said. 
 
 Nan turned white. " Is it bad news?" 
 
 " You poor child, no. I just saw Miss Frost, 
 and she says that Teddy writes that Van Alstyne 
 said that Miss Wynkoop 
 
 Clara sat down and began to draw off her gloves 
 in a leisurely manner. 
 
 "Clara, tell me what he wrote. It's cruel to 
 keep me in suspense." 
 
 " He wrote that Miss Wynkoop is a very good- 
 looking young woman."
 
 246 Annice Wynkoop t Artist. 
 
 Nan threw a pillow at her. " Of course he 
 said nothing of the kind, Clara." This in a par- 
 ticularly wheedling tone. 
 
 " He said, to quote Miss Frost's words, which 
 no doubt were entirely or nearly verbatim et 
 literatim, that Miss Wynkoop is his most promis- 
 ing pupil." 
 
 Miss Henshawe threw the pillow back at Nan. 
 " Think of that, Miss Annice Wynkoop. He has 
 some bright pupils, not to say anything of those 
 who have gone and distinguished themselves. 
 The gifted Miss Wynkoop ! " 
 
 " There is no use in pretending that I am not 
 pleased, for I am. I am very glad to know what 
 he thinks of me." 
 
 " And wasn't it nice of Teddy to tell what he 
 said ? I dare say that the same Teddy made him 
 tell. So, there." 
 
 " Oh, nonsense, Clara. The same Teddy, as you 
 are pleased to call him, has probably forgotten all 
 about us, and he won't think of us again till next 
 summer." 
 
 " ' Wull ye no come back again?'" sang Miss 
 Henshawe, as she went to her room to put away 
 her hat. 
 
 The winter flew by on wings. Nan worked with 
 all her strength, but her mind was at rest, and her 
 environment was so pleasant that she did not fail 
 in health as during the previous winter. Van 
 Alstyne seldom praised her work. Occasionally
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 247 
 
 he would say, " Keep on, keep on. We shall see 
 what we shall see." Those who knew his way 
 assured Nan that these few words from him were 
 equivalent to a gold medal from anyone else. So 
 Nan took courage and did her best. 
 
 Miss Frost did not hesitate to say what she 
 thought of Nan's progress. The two were very 
 good friends. Miss Frost made room for Nan to 
 work in her studio, and the girl painted there 
 many an afternoon. Miss Henshawe always in- 
 sisted on talking when they worked together, and 
 Nan found her flow of language somewhat dis- 
 tracting. 
 
 Mr. Frost returned in May, and from that time 
 he came and went. The Bronx party was re- 
 peated, and many other expeditions were made. 
 Perhaps there was more fun than sketching, but 
 as Clara Henshawe would often say, it was getting 
 late, and it was time they had some relaxation 
 after the labors of the winter. 
 
 Nan stayed in the city and worked all through 
 June. When Van Alstyne left New York for the 
 summer she half reluctantly packed her belong- 
 ings and started for Macedonia. She would have 
 worked all summer had there been an opportunity. 
 
 When she parted from her friends it was with 
 the assurance that the)' would meet during the 
 summer. Miss Henshawe was to spend some 
 time in Maine, as usual, then she would repeat her 
 visit to Macedonia. The Frosts were to spend
 
 248 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 the summer in the Catskills ; they had leased a cot- 
 tage at Onteora. Miss Frost exacted a promise 
 from Nan that she would visit them there, and 
 Nan, in her turn, promised to show them Mace- 
 donia and its suburbs. 
 
 Nan was given quite an ovation when she took 
 the train for Macedonia. Of course, Miss Hen- 
 shawe and Miss Minerva were at the station to see 
 her off, and Miss Frost arrived soon after they 
 did. Mr. Parrish and another of the pre-Raphael- 
 ites came with flowers, books, and magazines, and 
 Nan suffered from embarrassment of riches. Mr. 
 Frost was not there, whereat Miss Henshawe 
 wondered openly. Nan owned to herself that she 
 was disappointed, though she told Miss Henshawe 
 that there was no reason to expect him. 
 
 Nan settled herself comfortably as the train 
 pulled out of the station, and began to cut the 
 leaves of the novel Mr. Parrish had left her. She 
 read a few pages, and was resisting the temptation 
 to look at the last chapter to see " how it came 
 out," when a gentleman stepped in the aisle. She 
 looked up to see Mr. Frost. 
 
 " I am so glad I found you. I walked through 
 several cars, and feared that I was to be disap- 
 pointed. I had business in Newburgh, and I 
 started a little earlier than necessary so that we 
 might travel together." 
 
 Nan moved her bag and other belongings and 
 made room for him at her side. She kept con-
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 249 
 
 gratulating herself that she was perfectly self- 
 possessed, but at the same time she was so glad 
 to see him that she wondered how she managed 
 to keep the fact from him. 
 
 Of course they talked art ; that was a foregone 
 conclusion; but they talked of other things as 
 well. Mr. Frost pretended to be greatly sur- 
 prised because Nan did not play tennis nor golf, 
 and had never mounted a bicycle. 
 
 " You simply must do all these things when 
 you come to Onteora. We are going to live out 
 of doors there. We shall do everything but 
 sketch. This summer is to be devoted to play." 
 
 " I wonder what I can offer to attract you and 
 Miss Frost to Macedonia. Perhaps if you were 
 not so sure that you will not paint, you might 
 find something worth putting on canvas. We 
 are quite proud of our own particular hills." 
 
 " I'll make one picture, at least, for I promised 
 your grandmother that I would." 
 
 " I wonder what place it is she wants you to 
 paint? I can't remember that she ever noticed 
 the scenery." 
 
 " I don't know what the picture is to be about, 
 but it is to be a landscape, three feet by two and 
 one-half feet ; and I am to take it to New York 
 and have a handsome frame put on, and send it 
 back to her with my bill. I had considerable 
 curiosity as to what she meant to do with the 
 picture, but she would not tell me anything."
 
 250 Annice Wynkoop, Artist 
 
 " It is too bad for you to be bothered with 
 such a commission. Of course you won't think 
 of undertaking it. Grandma has no idea what 
 she asked of you." 
 
 " Don't, I beg, take my commission away from 
 me. I most certainly shall paint that picture, 
 and have it handsomely framed. By the way, 
 grandma said I was not to tell you. I didn't 
 think when I began." 
 
 " I shall never tell. I suppose she did not 
 want me to know of it for fear my feelings might 
 be hurt. She thinks it a pity that I don't do 
 scenery." 
 
 " You would better stick to painting faces. 
 Take my advice. If I dared, I would tell you all 
 that Van Alstyne told me. But I won't. You 
 have no curiosity, I hope. Is the next station 
 Newburgh? It can't be possible. We shouldn't 
 be well out of Harlem yet. I won't have time to 
 tell you what Van Alstyne said, for I can't go 
 any further. But I'll tell you either when you 
 come to Onteora or when I go to Macedonia to 
 paint the ' scene.' Good-bye, Miss Wynkoop ; I 
 hope to see you again soon." 
 
 Nan held the pre-Raphaelite's novel upside down 
 for a half an hour or more, while she sat absorbed 
 in her thoughts. Perhaps she was trying to guess 
 the subject of the landscape which Mr. Frost 
 had to paint.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 IT was haying time, and Mr. Wynkoop was 
 busy, so Charlotte drove Billy to the station to 
 meet Nan. Billy had reason to thank his lucky 
 stars that Charlotte seldom drove him. She was 
 a teacher and accustomed to being obeyed, and 
 she checked Billy's head up till he had quite an 
 air, and by dint of clucking at him constantly and 
 applying the whip to him judiciously she managed 
 to present quite a fine appearance as she drove 
 through the town. Nan never attempted any 
 style with Billy. She usually loosened his check- 
 rein and let him browse at will while she mused or 
 read the papers which she had brought from the 
 post-office. This was an excellent plan. Nan 
 knew, and Billy knew, that she could not make 
 him hurry, so if she appeared to be interested 
 in the Evangelist or the country paper so that she 
 didn't care to drive fast, it might deceive people 
 on the " turnpike," and it certainly was a harmless 
 deception. 
 
 After Nan and Charlotte had left the town be- 
 hind them, Nan got out and loosened Billy's 
 check rein. 
 
 " I can't bear to have so much style, Charlotte.
 
 252 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 I'm afraid that Billy will blame me for his dis- 
 comfort." 
 
 Charlotte laughed. " If you and father hadn't 
 spoiled Billy it would have been better for every- 
 body concerned. You may as well take the reins. 
 He knows you are here and he is prepared to 
 nibble all the bushes between here and home. 
 You are looking well, Nan. Much better than 
 last year." 
 
 " I am perfectly well. I could work the year 
 around, only I want to come home." 
 
 " I hope you won't get so fond of the city that 
 you won't always want to come." 
 
 " Why, Charlotte Wynkoop ! " 
 
 "You really are a distinguished looking girl. 
 It must be something innate in yourself, for you 
 can't give your clothes credit for it. Emma Anna 
 will have to sew for you ; you must be down to 
 your last dress. You haven't had any clothes in 
 a long time." 
 
 " It doesn't make much difference. The people 
 I see most don't expect me to dress, and they take 
 me just as I am." 
 
 " Grandma says you are a great belle." 
 
 " Grandma was a belle herself. She really was 
 giddy. You wouldn't have known her, Charlotte." 
 
 " Yes, she told us that she went to the theater. 
 But it was not allowed to get outside of the family. 
 Sometimes I wish she had never gone. She talks 
 a great deal about the ethical influence of the
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 stage, and as for Rip Van Winkle, if she has told 
 the whole thing over once she has told it forty 
 times. She is very proud of you, Nan." 
 
 " There she is now," said Nan, as grandma ap- 
 peared at the gate. " Isn't she spry ? She is a 
 marvel, and with her seventy years." 
 
 "Yes; she can get up and down stairs faster 
 than I can. She makes me think of what Wash- 
 ington Irving said about Dutch women. If they 
 g2t thin and dried up as they get old they live 
 forever. Well, grandma, here is your favorite 
 granddaughter, safe and sound." 
 
 " How are all our folks ? " was Mrs. Wynkoop's 
 first question. 
 
 " All well and happy, and everybody sent love 
 to you." 
 
 "Any of them coming up this summer?" 
 
 " Yes ; Clara will come, and the Frosts will not 
 be far away." 
 
 "Ain't he going to Paris this summer? I 
 thought he said he always went to Paris. He said 
 that when I asked him to come to Macedonia. I 
 wanted to be polite to him, for he took us to the 
 theater. It must have cost him a pretty penny, 
 too. Clara says they charge like everything for 
 those boxes." 
 
 11 Oh, I fancy he could afford it." 
 
 " Has he got money? I suppose he makes as 
 much as four or five times what the teacher makes. 
 You seen the teacher yet, Annice?"
 
 254 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 "No, grandma. I haven't been home two 
 hours." 
 
 " I thought maybe you had seen him in the 
 village." 
 
 " I can wait till I see him, I think." 
 
 " I wonder if he has a notion for Clara, perhaps." 
 
 " Perhaps. I hope so, if it suits them." 
 
 " Do you suppose Clara would be willing to 
 settle down here ? " 
 
 " I can't imagine such a thing. She would 
 rather be dead than live outside of New York." 
 
 " Perhaps the teacher will try to get a position 
 nearer New York." 
 
 " I'm sure I don't know, grandma. I hope he 
 will get what he wants. I wish him good luck in 
 all he does." 
 
 Nan dropped easily into her old place at home. 
 Sometimes she could not realize that she had been 
 away at all, and the New York life seemed like a 
 dream. She busied herself about the house, giv- 
 ing a helping hand here or there, wherever she 
 saw it was needed. She made a great effort, as 
 she confided to Harriet, to " stir up " Emma 
 Anna and Charlotte. It was not an easy task, but 
 she did now and then succeed in getting them out 
 of the old ruts for a little while at a time. If she 
 could only get them to change their scene ! But 
 if she spoke to Charlotte about trying to secure 
 another position, she was met with the reply that 
 it would be very foolish to make amove ; she was
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 used to people and things in Macedonia, and she 
 disliked to meet new people and try new ways. 
 
 " It's actually a wonder that Emma Anna doesn't 
 make dresses after the fashion of fifteen years 
 ago," Nan said to Harriet, after one of her futile 
 conversations with her older sisters. 
 
 " I suppose she would if people would buy 
 them," was Harriet's reply. " Her dressmaking 
 answers every purpose that society does for other 
 people. The arrival of a new Delineator is as good 
 as the opera. She really does take an artistic 
 pleasure in making dresses, poor Emma Anna. 
 She makes her dresses well, there is no denying 
 that." 
 
 " Of course she does. Just think what prices 
 she could command in New York. Harriet, I 
 wish we could move them all down. Do you 
 think they would be contented?" 
 
 " I know they wouldn't. Father and mother 
 would be completely stranded, and yet I believe 
 they would mind the uprooting less than Emma 
 Anna, and Charlotte. I should go wild if I lived 
 such a jog-trot life. Mine is dull enough, but 
 compared to theirs it is wildly exciting. Statis- 
 tics go to prove that more than half the cases of 
 insanity among women hail from farmhouses. 
 The monotony of such an existence, it is claimed, 
 affects the brain more than the noise and whirl of 
 the city." 
 
 " Miss Frost often speaks of the women who
 
 256 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 live alone in the city those who keep house 
 alone. She says they always get queer and talk 
 to themselves. I used to wish, winter before 
 last, that I could be alone. But really, Harriet, I 
 often think that it might be practicable to take a 
 small house in Brooklyn and all live together. 
 You girls could work there as well as here, and 
 you would realize so much more for your labor." 
 
 Harriet shook her head. " No, Nan, for once 
 in your life your calculation is poor. We are a 
 great deal better off here, poor as we are. There 
 are so many things here on which we can put no 
 money value. It is hard on you to be the only 
 one in the city, but it will have to be so. You 
 will work at your art all the year and in the sum- 
 mer you will come to us. I feel quite well satis- 
 fied about you so long as you are with the Hen- 
 shawes. By and by, when you are a successful 
 painter, we will come down, one or two at a time, 
 and bask in your glory." 
 
 " If there is ever any glory to bask in you may 
 thank yourself for it." 
 
 " Oh, no. I have done very little for you yet. 
 Grandma came to the front early in the year and 
 took all your expenses on herself. She has a 
 hard task laid out for you this summer." 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 " A portrait of Grandpa Wynkoop. She has 
 an ambrotype, and she wants you to enlarge it 
 and dress him in modern clothes. She said if
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 257 
 
 you could do that she'd almost feel like paying 
 your expenses for another year." 
 
 " She ought to send it to the girls who make 
 crayon portraits from photographs. It is more 
 in their line. I'll get Clara to paint a miniature 
 of grandpa, and grandma can wear it as a breast- 
 pin. He was a handsome old man, and in that 
 old-fashioned dress he would make a fine minia- 
 ture. However, I'll try it I'll try anything that 
 grandma wants me to do. She has been very 
 generous to me, and what makes it seem all the 
 more generous is that she considers painting fol- 
 de-rol." 
 
 " Oh, no she doesn't. She really has a great 
 deal of respect for the profession. Grandma 
 thinks a great deal of the mighty dollar, you 
 know, and she never tires of telling what fabulous 
 prices some artists command. Then, too, I be- 
 lieve she loves art for its own sake," added Har- 
 riet, laughing. " She sometimes says that it is 
 quite likely that she would be an artist if she 
 were young now. Oh, grandma is a very pro- 
 gressive young lady ! She likes society, as she 
 calls it, and she is anxious to have Miss Hen- 
 shawe and the Frosts come. She did all her 
 other visiting early, so she would be here when 
 the fun vvas going on." 
 
 The portrait of Grandpa Wynkoop proved to 
 be a hard task, but Nan accomplished it in a 
 manner to suit even grandma's high ideas of art. 
 17
 
 258 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 She hung it on the wall of her room and proudly 
 said that she wished Van Alstyne could see it. 
 
 She handed Nan a roll of bills, and, nodding 
 her head mysteriously, told her that she might 
 as well put that money away toward her wedding 
 clothes.- 
 
 Nan was so surprised that she couldn't reply 
 for a whole moment ; then she said : " Why, 
 grandma, you would better let me spend it for a 
 winter dress to work in. Clara will need the 
 wedding gown long before I will. Mr. Bamford 
 seems very anxious to know when she is coming." 
 
 " The teacher ain't the only man in the State of 
 New York, is he?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 " I ain't referring to the teacher at all. I have 
 given up that affair. I see that you and he 
 would never have made it go. He's too master- 
 ful. You are like me, you have a will of your 
 own. Your grandpa wasn't one of those master- 
 ful men ; he was always reasonable, and he let 
 me advise him for his good. If you get a hus- 
 band as good as Jonas Wynkoop you'll be 
 lucky." 
 
 " But I don't expect to have any at all, grand- 
 ma. As Clara says, she and I are wedded to our 
 art." Nan's eyes twinkled as she waited for the 
 reply. It was short but expressive, 
 
 "Fiddlesticks!"
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 NAN had postponed her visit to the Frosts' at 
 Onteora for one reason or another, till Miss Frost 
 lost her patience. At last, in August, she sent 
 for Nan, saying she expected her to answer the 
 letter in person before the end of the week, or she 
 should come after her. If Miss Henshawe was 
 there she must come with Nan. 
 
 Miss Henshawe was there, and upon receipt of 
 Miss Frost's message she immediately began to 
 pack her trunk, and she also partly packed Nan's. 
 When Nan went upstairs she found Miss Hen- 
 shawe in a thin wrapper, with her hair hanging 
 down her back in a braid. 
 
 "I'm packing," said she, " and I'm going to 
 Onteora to-morrow morning. So are you." 
 
 " I can't go so soon. I must have my white 
 gowns laundered, and Emma Anna was just say- 
 ing she must do quite a little sewing for me 
 before I can go." 
 
 " Let the sewing go. It won't take long to 
 have the dresses laundered. I'll wash and iron 
 them myself if you'll wear them after they are 
 done ? " 
 
 Nan laughed. " I see you are anxious to go. 
 259
 
 260 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 Perhaps we can get away on Saturday. I think 
 it will be safe to write Miss Frost to. that effect. 
 But I must say, Clara, that your haste to get 
 away isn't complimentary to Macedonia." 
 
 " I never thought of that, Nan. I hope I 
 haven't hurt your feelings. Of course I like all 
 your people, but it stands to reason that I like 
 you best, and I am not going to leave you. I 
 wonder that you care so little about going to see 
 Miss Frost. I should think you would be anxious 
 to see her." 
 
 " You needn't put so much stress upon the 
 pronoun, Clara, I understand you." 
 
 " Now, I want to sec him, and I confess it 
 freely." Miss Henshawe made a dive down to 
 the bottom of her trunk, and when she came up 
 for fresh air, she went on, " I believe you are 
 afraid of Theodore Frost." 
 
 " I am afraid of no one, man or woman, Clara 
 Henshawe. I can't quarrel with you, for you are 
 my guest, but I can leave you, and I will. I'm 
 going to make a pudding for dinner." 
 
 " Have hard sauce, there's a dear good child," 
 Miss Henshawe called after her. 
 
 The Frosts had a very pleasant cottage at 
 Onteora. They rented it of a well-known literary 
 woman, who was spending her summer abroad. 
 It was simply, but comfortably furnished, and the 
 brother and sister were making themselves very 
 much at home.
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 261 
 
 Miss Frost told Nan that she felt like shaking 
 her for making her wait so long, but she forgave 
 her and showed her to a green-and-white chamber. 
 
 " I knew your preference for green, so I gave 
 Miss Henshawe the pink one." 
 
 " If there is any one color more unbecoming to 
 me than another, it is pink," said Miss Henshawe 
 to Nan when Miss Frost had gone down. " But 
 I'm willing to be made a martyr of if your 
 aesthetic eye is suited." 
 
 The days in the cottage, or rather the days 
 outside the cottage, were delightful ones, for 
 they were seldom indoors unless it rained. The 
 weather was what Miss Henshawe called ideal, 
 and they made the most of it. When they weren't 
 playing tennis they were taking long tramps 
 through the woods, or, if golf did not attract 
 them, it was archery. 
 
 Miss Frost met the girls at breakfast one morn- 
 ing with a long face. " Isn't it a shame? Theo- 
 dore has to go to New York this morning to see 
 about some tiresome contract. He may not get 
 back till Thursday. I could cry." 
 
 " So could I." Mr. Frost came through the low 
 window. " I'll be back as soon as I can, Jess, you 
 may be sure of that. I expect you to be good 
 children and give an excellent account of your- 
 selves when I come back." 
 
 " I shall be afraid, Teddy. You may be away 
 two nights, you say."
 
 262 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 Mr. Frost gave a long whistle. " I hadn't 
 thought of such a thing as your being afraid, Jess. 
 Why should you? There are four of you, count- 
 ing the cook. If it will make you feel more 
 secure, make the second girl stay at night." 
 
 " Oh, I wouldn't feel secure if I had seven 
 women. I never feel safe in the country unless 
 there is a man in the house." 
 
 " Miss Wynkoop is smiling. I know she thinks 
 you very foolish. Do you expect to be afraid, 
 Miss Henshawe?" 
 
 " I'm the biggest coward in the world." 
 
 " 'I'm sure that Miss Wynkoop isn't cowardly. 
 I'm going to put you in charge of the garrison, 
 Captain Wynkoop." 
 
 " I'll defend it with the last drop of my blood," 
 returned Nan, shouldering Mr. Frost's umbrella 
 with a martial air. 
 
 " There, girls, you are safe. Miss Wynkoop 
 will take charge of you. It's time I was starting. 
 All get your hats and walk to the station with me." 
 
 The first night passed without anything to 
 alarm the timid ones. Miss Frost congratulated 
 herself and the others that they had lived through 
 the night." 
 
 That afternoon the cook told Nan that there 
 had been an attempt, a few nights before, to rob 
 a cottage not far away from theirs. Nan asked 
 her not to tell Miss Frost, and promised that she 
 would sleep "with one eye open."
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist, 263 
 
 Miss Frost made the tour of the cottage at least 
 twice, to see that all the doors and windows were 
 locked. Next, she looked under all the beds and 
 in all the closets. This done she commended 
 herself and guests to Providence, and the house 
 was soon quiet. For some reason Nan could not 
 get asleep. When, at last, she lost herself it was 
 to dream of burglars and defenceless garrisons. 
 It was nearly two o'clock when she awoke with a 
 start. She had heard nothing, yet she found her- 
 self putting on her bedroom slippersand slipping 
 a loose wrapper over her head. No one heard 
 her as she passed the other chambers. The 
 housemaid's closet was at the head of the stairs. 
 Nan softly opened the door and took out a 
 broom. Of course nothing was wrong, she told 
 herself, but there was no harm in taking the 
 broom. 
 
 The parlor, library, and dining-room were con- 
 nected, and they were separated only by portieres ; 
 there were no doors. Nan made her way through 
 the parlor. Nothing was wrong there, but she 
 pushed on through the library to the dining-room 
 door. The heavy portiere was drawn across the 
 doorway, but she saw a faint glimmer of light. 
 Her heart was knocking against her ribs so that 
 she could almost hear it, but there was no going 
 back now ; she must know why that light was 
 there. In a moment she was peering into the 
 dining-room. Two men were kneeling on the
 
 264 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 floor, with their backs toward her, and they were 
 packing the silver into a bag. 
 
 Poor Captain Wynkoop ! She did not hesitate 
 for more than a minute or two, but it seemed to 
 her that she was an hour in making up her mind 
 what to do. No doubt these men were armed, 
 and if they heard her they would shoot her. Life 
 seemed very sweet to Nan just then, and she was 
 tempted to slip away upstairs and let the burglars 
 have the silver. 
 
 Just then there flashed through her mind the 
 text of the last sermon she had heard in New 
 York. 
 
 "And the Lord said unto him, What is in thine 
 hand ? And he said, A Rod." 
 
 The lesson drawn from the text was that we 
 should use the means at our disposal. All this 
 went through N.an's brain in an instant. If one 
 had only a broom, then one should use a broom. 
 The next instant she found herself darting for- 
 ward, still noiselessly. The broom came down on 
 the candle and put the flame out before the two 
 men knew what had done it. Nan dropped the 
 broom, and it fell with a noise. She ran into the 
 library, meaning to hide somewhere, but she fell 
 over a chair and made more noise. Oh, would the 
 men go, or would they follow her ? No, they were 
 getting out of the dining-room window. 
 
 Nan began to feel queer; she must go upstairs. 
 She wondered if people felt this way when they
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 265 
 
 fainted. She really ought to see if the men took 
 the silver. 
 
 There was a step on the piazza. Were they 
 coming back ? No, someone was putting a key 
 in the latch. Nan struggled to her feet. " Who 
 is there ? " she asked. 
 
 'Theodore, of course. Is that you, Jess?" 
 still fumbling with the key. 
 
 " No ; it's Annice. You can't get in. The door 
 is bolted." 
 
 " Annice," Mr. Frost repeated the name as she 
 had given it. " Annice, what are you doing down 
 here ? Is anything wrong ? " 
 
 She sank down on the hat rack. " Look in the 
 dining-room, there were burglars, but I frightened 
 them, I think." She spoke in jerks. "Go quick 
 and see." 
 
 " I'll see to you first. Why, child, you are a 
 heroine. Don't faint, Nan, I'll open the door. 
 Do you feel better ? Dare I leave you to call 
 Jess ? You poor child." 
 
 <% Look in the dining-room, please. I'm better 
 now. But do be careful. Perhaps they haven't 
 gone, after all." 
 
 Mr. Frost came back in a moment with a glass 
 of wine! " Drink this," he commanded, holding 
 the glass to Nan's lips. " They have gone, but 
 the floor is strewn with silver. There is no doubt 
 that you had real flesh and blood burglars. Are 
 you better ? Brave little Captain Wynkoop ! I
 
 266 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 knew you would defend the garrison. What did 
 you do to the enemy ? " 
 
 Nan laughed. " I poked a broom into their 
 candle, and they ran. Then I upset something 
 in the library, then I heard your latchkey." 
 
 " Excuse the pun, but you made a clean sweep 
 of it, Miss Wynkoop." 
 
 Nan by this time, thanks to the wine, was quite 
 herself, and she began to be conscious of her 
 wrapper and her braided hair. 
 
 " I'll go up now. Please lock all the windows. 
 I'm nervous. I didn't know I was so cowardly." 
 
 " Who is it that says a brave person is fright- 
 ened after a danger? You need to be looked 
 after. I'm going to call Jessica. Indeed I shall." 
 
 Miss Frost came down in a moment. She was 
 some time taking in the situation, but when at 
 last she did, she literally fell on Nan's neck. 
 
 " You brave little Nan Wynkoop," she cried. 
 " Oh, you poor child, you tremble yet. I'm so 
 sorry. It must have been a terrible strain." 
 
 By this time Miss Henshawe appeared at the 
 head of the stairs, and demanded to be told what 
 had happened. 
 
 Miss Frost told her in as few words as possible. 
 And added, " Don't come down ; we are coming 
 up." 
 
 " I want to see Nan and be sure that she really 
 is not hurt. We might have been murdered in our 
 beds," Miss Henshawe wailed.
 
 Annice Wynkooj), Artist. - 267 
 
 "Let me go to her. She has hysterics some- 
 times," said Nan. " Really, Miss Frost, I am quite 
 myself." 
 
 Nan went up to Miss Henshawe, and Miss Frost 
 called her brother down and together they went 
 through the whole lower story and the cellar. 
 
 It was almost daybreak before the household 
 was settled again. The cook wondered why every- 
 body was late for breakfast. The silver had been 
 put back in its place and the dining-room bore no 
 traces of last night's confusion. 
 
 Nan heard so much about her bravery that she 
 begged Miss Frost not to let anyone say anything 
 more to her. She had done nothing but her duty, 
 and she did not deserve any praise. 
 
 The affair, however, had given Nan a severe 
 shock. For several nights she would wake up in 
 a fright and sit up in bed, trembling with fear. 
 She would not get asleep again till day began to 
 break. It was no wonder that she did not wish 
 to be reminded of her exploit. 
 
 Miss Henshawe thought the whole circumstance 
 very romantic. It was just like a three-volume 
 romance that Mr. Frost came just as Nan was 
 about to faint. 
 
 At this juncture Nan would indignantly inter- 
 rupt Miss Henshawe by declaring that she didn't 
 faint ; she never fainted in all her life. 
 
 " Yes, but you would if he hadn't come just as 
 he did. I never saw you look prettier than you did
 
 268 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 when you came up the stairs. Your eyes were 
 big and shining and your hair v/as all curled around 
 your ears and " 
 
 Nan had heard all she could stand, and she took 
 up her tennis racquet and left Miss Henshawe to 
 finish her description to herself. 
 
 Mr. Frost, who was lying on the lawn with his 
 cap over his eyes, sprang up as Nan approached. 
 
 " I don't know howl guessed you were coming, 
 for I didn't hear you. Are you ready for a game? 
 It isn't too hot for you ? " 
 
 " Oh, no. I am so wildly anxious to become a 
 good tennis player that I don't mind the temper- 
 ature. 
 
 " When you come to Macedonia I shan't know 
 how to entertain you. I shall have to take you 
 to see the chickens and little pigs. Oh, yes, we 
 can go to drive the cows home. I hope you are 
 not afraid of cows. I am. I never see one of our 
 own mild creatures that I don't feel impelled to 
 yell and take to my heels." 
 
 " I'm not afraid of cows, but we'll take a broom 
 along as a precautionary measure." 
 
 " Please don't say anything about those miser- 
 able burglars. I wish they had never come." 
 
 " Why should you ? It was a beautiful incident, 
 and it deserves to be preserved as one of the 
 legends of Onteora. Barbara Frietchie is rothing 
 to it. If I were a poet I would write an epic re- 
 lating the heroism of one little Annice Wynkoop,
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 269 
 
 who, with her trusty broom, put two bold robbers 
 to flight." 
 
 " I don't see why everybody calls me little 
 Annice Wynkoop. That is the name I go by in 
 Macedonia. If it isn't that, it's the 'youngest 
 Wynkoop girl.' I'm not little. I am five feet, 
 five inches in height, and I weigh nine stone." 
 
 " I beg your pardon. I did not realize that you 
 were such an imposing young woman. Hereafter 
 I shall stand in awe of you. When I write the 
 epic I shall not fail to add these facts. There 
 comes Miss Henshawe. What spirit moved her 
 to come out here ? I fear the afternoon sun will 
 be harmful." 
 
 " I am very glad to see her," said Nan, with 
 much dignity. 
 
 But Miss Henshawe declined to join them. She 
 didn't propose to work during vacation, and if 
 playing tennis on a hot day was not work she 
 would like to know what it was. So she settled 
 herself comfortably in the summer house and the 
 game went on. 
 
 " You forget about Grandma Wynkoop's land- 
 scape," said Mr. Frost when they sat down to rest. 
 "You need not fear that I shall have any leisure 
 time on my hands while I am in Macedonia." 
 
 " I have bad news for you. I know this will 
 be a blow to you, so prepare yourself. I think 
 that grandma has changed her mind about the 
 landscape. She gave me an order fora ' fruit-piece '
 
 270 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 some time ago, which I promptly executed. The 
 size of that work of art was exactly three by two 
 and a half feet, which leads me to think that she 
 has substituted it for the ' scene.' I also discov- 
 ered that this picture is to be a gift to the min- 
 ister." 
 
 " Do you call that fair, taking my custom away 
 from me?" asked Mr. Frost, fiercely. " I prom- 
 ised to tell you all that Van Alstyne said about 
 you, did I not? " 
 
 Nan nodded. " I am not curious. Few women 
 are, you know. It is only men who have much 
 curiosity." 
 
 Mr. Frost seemed amused. " I sha'n't tell you 
 yet. Perhaps if you are good I'll tell you when 
 I come to Macedonia." 
 
 " I'll be good. Mercy, I had no idea it was so 
 late. Jennie is ringing the tea bell on the back 
 porch." Nan instinctively put up her hands to 
 her back hair. "Arid there is Miss Henshawe in 
 a fresh white dress." 
 
 Nan rushed away to don one of her white dresses, 
 and Mr. Frost followed more leisurely with the 
 racquets.
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 " Is not Mr. Bamford rather e~pris with Miss 
 Henshawe? " 
 
 Mr. Frost asked the question apropos of noth- 
 ing in particular. He and Nan had started to go 
 to the tennis court "cross lots," but he had sud- 
 denly become tired, he said, and sat down on the 
 stile that led into the apple orchard while he 
 rested. 
 
 "Your Macedonian hills are almost too much 
 for me. The Macedonian nymphs walk, with such 
 a rapid pace that I almost get the apoplexy when 
 I try to keep up with them. You didn't answer 
 my question, Miss Annice. I asked you if you 
 suppose there is anything between Miss Hen- 
 shawe and Mr. Bamford." 
 
 " They are engaged." 
 
 "Are you sure very sure?" 
 
 " She told me herself." 
 
 " May I throw up my hat ? I'm so glad that 
 he is engaged to her; I feared that he was en- 
 gaged to you." 
 
 " We never were anything more than friends," 
 said Nan, demurely. 
 
 " Since you are not engaged to him, perhaps 
 271
 
 272 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 some other man may have the right to ask you 
 to become engaged to him." 
 
 " No man has such a right." This with much 
 dignity. 
 
 " We'll call it a privilege, then. Has another 
 man the privilege to ask you to be his wife?" 
 
 " That depends on who the man is." Nan's 
 voice trembled, poor child. 
 
 "This man loves you very dearly. He began 
 to love you that eveningwhen you unconsciously 
 made a picture of yourself against Jessica's red 
 curtain." 
 
 " That man is so much wiser than I that he 
 can't care for me long. I believe that he thinks 
 he cares because he says so ; but he would soon 
 find that I belong to a different world from his, 
 and he would be sorry that he 
 
 Nan did not finish the sentence. She turned and 
 pulled at the daisies which grew about the stile. 
 
 " Am I too old for you, darling? I know there 
 is a good deal of difference in our ages." 
 
 " I hate boys; I always did." 
 
 Nan's face was bent over the daisies as she 
 spoke, but the next moment it was buried in Mr. 
 Frost's tennis coat. 
 
 " Kiss me, Nan, that's a good child, and tell 
 me that you forgive me for surprising you so. 
 There was no other way to make you capitulate; 
 you were so dignified. I believe I am young, 
 after all."
 
 Nan did not finish the sentence. She turned and pulled at the daisies which 
 grew about the stile. Page 272. Annice Wynkoop.
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 273 
 
 "You act so, I must say," said Nan, who had 
 recovered her composure a little. 
 
 "Where were we? That last move of mine 
 rather confused my remarks." 
 
 " Behave ! " said Nan, in a warning voice. " I 
 had an idea that you were about to propose to 
 me. Of course I may have misunderstood you, 
 but" 
 
 " Mischief ! Tell me, Nannie, like the brave 
 little woman that you are, that you really love 
 me. Come, and we will go straying through the 
 old world together and find it a Paradise." 
 
 The flush which had been coming and going in 
 Nan's face came again, deeper than ever, as she 
 put her hand in the hand held out to her. And 
 again she was held against the tennis coat. , 
 
 " I didn't think that you could be so 
 
 "So what, Nan?" 
 
 "So silly," she faltered, with her cheek against 
 Mr. Frost's. " You say such things to me. They 
 don't apply at all." 
 
 Nan held him away from her while she faced 
 him. " If you ever tire of me and wish that 
 you hadn't said all this to me, you can blame 
 yourself. I warned you in time that I 
 
 Her eyes fell before the look in the other eyes 
 and she did not finish the sentence. 
 
 " Come, we ought to go on, if we mean to play 
 tennis this afternoon." 
 
 " I don't care for tennis. Let us stay where 
 18
 
 274 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 we are. We don't become engaged every 
 day." 
 
 " But what will your sister and Miss Henshawe 
 think?" 
 
 " I'm not responsible for their thoughts, Miss 
 Wynkoop. Jess might possibly guess if she tries 
 hard enough. Sit still, Nan ; they won't expect 
 us now." 
 
 " Let us go home if you don't care to play 
 tennis. I'm going; you may do as you please." 
 
 "Where thou goest I will go, beloved; and 
 where I go you will go. Say yes, Nan. Never 
 mind, you looked yes. I'll tell you where we are 
 going straight to Paris four weeks from to-day, 
 and I sha'n't think about building bridges till we 
 have ransacked every corner of the old world. 
 How does that strike you for a program ? " 
 
 " It sounds like a fairy tale. But I wish you 
 to understand, Mr. Frost, that I am not to be 
 coaxed by sugar plums. Do you suppose that I 
 like you any better because you have money 
 enough to take me all over Europe than I should 
 if you were too poor to afford any wedding trip 
 at all? That sentence may sound somewhat in- 
 volved, but I know you will understand me. It 
 will be delightful to live the life you have 
 planned, but I could work with you and for you 
 if need be." 
 
 Mr. Frost grasped an apple tree for support. 
 " Nan, will you bring me a little water and
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 275 
 
 sprinkle me with it? I believe I feel faint. 
 Conscript fathers! She has said more than I 
 ever expected to hear, more than she would have 
 said if I had coaxed her all day. Why didn't 
 you prepare me for this, Nan?" 
 
 Nan looked puzzled for a moment. Then she 
 flushed a deep red, even to her ears. " Oh, I didn't 
 mean at least, that is to say I was so afraid 
 that you might think that I wanted you for 
 your money, that I spoke my thoughts out- 
 right." 
 
 Mr. Frost seemed to enjoy himself immensely. 
 
 " Nan, you are forgiven, and I promise not to 
 tease you more than I can help. There is no 
 danger that I shall ever tire of you, you are too 
 piquant and original. Besides, I love you as I 
 love my own soul. Tell me, girlie, how long since 
 I supplanted Bamford ? " 
 
 " He never was anything to me, but he almost 
 made me think that I ought to marry him. His 
 fidelity touched me, and everybody thought that 
 I ought to marry him." 
 
 " Go on, please. When did you decide that 
 you couldn't marry him ? I want to know how 
 long you have loved me. Honest now, Annice. 
 You needn't mind confessing to me. It is all in 
 the family, you know." 
 
 " It was the day you took us to Bronx Park ; 
 the first time, you know." Nan's voice dropped 
 almost to a whisper. " That day and every day
 
 276 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 since I have known what love is, and though I did 
 not dare think that you really 
 
 " Oh, fill up these blank places, Miss Wynkoop 
 You didn't really dare poor child think that I 
 really " 
 
 " Loved me," faltered Nan, " but I couldn't 
 think of any other man. I could live alone all my 
 life, and keep my secret to myself, but I couldn't 
 put any one in your place, or in the place I had 
 made for you." 
 
 " My little Nan! If I had only known ! I wanted 
 to speak long ago, but I thought you belonged to 
 Bamford. Parrish confound him told me that 
 you and the school teacher were engaged, and 
 Jessica said she feared that it was so. If you 
 weren't exactly engaged, I feared that matters 
 had gone too far for me to hope for a chance. I 
 wish I had known." 
 
 " I wish you had. I have suffered so over this. 
 In your eyes I saw myself a silly girl who had let 
 her tell-tale face betray her. I mean that Bronx 
 day. After that I made myself behave. But I 
 hated myself for weeks. I saw then that I had 
 no right to let the Bamford affair run on, and I 
 made myself understood. I believe Mr. Bamford 
 liked Miss Henshawe all the time, but he was too 
 obstinate to own it till just now." 
 
 " My little Nan Wynkoop." 
 
 " I don't see why you will persist in calling me 
 little. I'm not little, I'm tall."
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 277 
 
 "You are just right." 
 
 " Don't say that I am just as high as your heart. 
 I'm a good deal higher. Stand up. There ! I 
 come almost to your eyes." 
 
 " You are taller than I thought ; quite a queenly 
 height." 
 
 " Please don't say anything about 'A daughter 
 of the gods, divinely tall,' etc." 
 
 " Nan, you are a regular tyrant. If you mean 
 to nag me like this I would better beat a retreat 
 while there is an opportunity." 
 
 " It is too late now. Besides, Mr. Bamford 
 has deserted me. I fear you'll have to keep your 
 contract, Mr. Frost." 
 
 "What is my name?" he asked, with his lips 
 on hers. 
 
 "Teddy. And it's a most ridiculous name for 
 a big man like you. I can't bear the name of 
 Theodore, though ! " 
 
 " Then you'll have to call me Teddy. It is a 
 good name quite as good as Nan." 
 
 "I admit that. Nan and Teddy, Teddy and 
 Nan. It sounds as if we might be ten years old, 
 I wearing a sunbonnet, and you a gingham 
 ' jumper.' 
 
 " I'm going home. You may suit yourself. 
 There come your sister and Clara now. Please, 
 Mr. Frost, don't let them know 
 
 " I most certainly shall. Stop calling me 
 Mister. It's ridiculous. I won't have it. If you
 
 278 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 don't like my name Invent one to suit. You are 
 not lacking in imagination. Where are you 
 going? " catching her by her sleeve. 
 
 " Please don't tell your sister now. That's a 
 dear boy." 
 
 "You can't bind me over to silence by your 
 blandishments. I want to see my sister. Would 
 you separate a man from his sister ? " 
 
 " See her. I'm going to take a short cut. I 
 won't see them now." 
 
 " If you run away I shall shout, so that the 
 whole neighborhood can hear me, ' There goes 
 my beloved Annice, fleeing from her disconsolate 
 Theodore ! ' You would much better stay, dear." 
 
 " Tyrant ! I suppose I must. But spare my 
 blushes, and I'll call you Teddy." 
 
 "Good child! Oh, I say, Jess, hurry. We 
 have been waiting for you." 
 
 " Waiting for us ? My dear Theodore ! we 
 have waited more than an hour for you. Where 
 have you been ? " 
 
 " Right here on this stile, and we have been 
 getting engaged. Don't say anything to Nan, 
 for I have promised her that no one but myself 
 shall be allowed to make her blush." And Mr. 
 Frost held his racquet before Nan's face. 
 
 " A good piece of work, Teddy. I won't say 
 anything to Nan now, but perhaps she can guess 
 how glad I am. I suppose you are off for a 
 vacation with your wife under your arm."
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 279 
 
 " Yes ; just as soon as I can make Nan get 
 ready. We are off on the long trail, and we may 
 not be back for a year. You'd better come with 
 us, Jess." 
 
 "Thank you ; but I should only be in the 
 way. I may meet you in Paris next winter. Is 
 Nan going to paint, or have you spoiled her 
 career? " 
 
 " Answer her, Nan." 
 
 Miss Frost and her brother were walking to- 
 gether, and Nan and Miss Henshawe were follow- 
 ing behind. Miss Frost halted and repeated her 
 question. 
 
 " I am going to Paris to study art," said Nan 
 with much dignity. " Mr. Frost always proph- 
 esied that I would go." 
 
 " And I fancy that he had an idea that when 
 you went it would be in a personally conducted 
 party," laughed Miss Frost. " Theodore is a most 
 transparent character." 
 
 Miss Henshawe had been so quiet that Nan 
 was really worried. Could it be possible that 
 Clara had really cared for Mr. Frost? If not, 
 why was she so still? " 
 
 Nan was dressing for tea when Miss Henshawe 
 tapped at the door. 
 
 " Well, Mrs. Frost," she began, " perhaps I 
 am not a true prophet. Will you own now that 
 Mr. Frost is interested in you ? 
 
 " It has that appearance," Nan replied with a
 
 280 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 happy little laugh. " You have been engaged as 
 much as a week, and you can't resist patronizing 
 me a little, I see." 
 
 " Oh, there is nothing romantic about my en- 
 gagement. The teacher wanted you first." 
 
 " Perhaps he thought he did, but I daresay he 
 has forgotten it. You'll get along with him 
 beautifully, and he'll thank his lucky stars that 
 he isn't in Mr. Frost's shoes " 
 
 " Where is the great Teddy? I forgot, I 
 mustn't call him that any more." 
 
 " I don't mind, and he doesn't know it. He 
 has gone back to the hotel. I told him he might 
 stay and have supper in his tennis clothes, but 
 he said they were not dignified enough for a man 
 in his position. He will be back, though, I ex- 
 pect, later in the evening." 
 
 " The teacher and I will take ourselves out of 
 the way. We are going for a drive. We'll never 
 go to Paris together, Nan, and it's a shame. It's 
 almost a pity to marry at all, and lose all interest 
 in your work." 
 
 " I don't intend to lose my interest. I expect 
 to do better work than I should if this hadn't 
 happened. I can't help painting with Mr. Frost 
 to encourage me." 
 
 " Wait and see. I predict that in five years 
 you will have forgotten that you ever cared about 
 paints and brushes."
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 281 
 
 " Wait and see," repeated Nan. " By that time 
 I shall show you a picture worth doing." 
 
 " Do you want to know what Van Alstyne 
 said ? " Mr. Frost asked Nan as they sat on the 
 porch that evening. 
 
 " Do you want to tell me ? You have been 
 threatening to tell me for a long time." 
 
 "You see, my child, I couldn't tell you with- 
 out telling you something else first. I performed 
 that duty this afternoon, and now for the story. 
 
 " It's this. Van Alstyne said to me that Miss 
 Wynkoop had a future unless she married, and all 
 the women who knew how to paint were sure to 
 marry. I said Ah or something to that effect, but 
 as you may imagine, I had my thoughts. 
 
 " ' It all depends, of course, on the kind of man 
 she marries.' Van Alstyne went on. ' If she 
 should happen to fall into the hands I think 
 arms sound better of an artist, who would help 
 her instead of hampering her, she would astonish 
 you.' 
 
 "Still I said nothing, and Van Alstyne had the 
 impertinence to say, ' If you were not such a 
 confirmed bachelor I might suspect that you 
 were interested in Miss Wynkoop.' 
 
 " Of course I was shocked, and hastened to ex- 
 plain that I was interested in you because my 
 sister liked you, and because I wished to see the 
 cause of art prosper. 
 
 " But my remarks seemed to have no impres-
 
 282 Annlce Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 sion upon Van Alstyne, for he said, ' You would 
 better marry her yourself, Theodore. I advise 
 you to think about it.' 
 
 " So I began to accustom myself to the idea, 
 till it lost its terror. I love art, and so, purely in 
 the interest of art, I came to Macedonia, and you 
 know the rest, Nan." 
 
 " It's a very good story, Teddy. I, too, am 
 ready to suffer a great deal for art's sake. No 
 doubt you have guessed that I intend to marry 
 you merely for the opportunity to study in 
 Paris." 
 
 " Of course I understand that. Remember we 
 are to start in four weeks." 
 
 " But, my dear boy, I have to have something 
 to wear." 
 
 " Nonsense ! We'll buy those things in Paris. 
 You are the last girl to make a man wait for 
 wedding finery. I'll tell Van Alstyne unless you 
 promise to be ready. Won't he be surprised 
 when we walk in on him some fine morning? 
 When are Miss Henshawe and Bamford to be 
 married?" 
 
 " Not till some time in the winter. He has a 
 position on Long Island, so Clara won't be obliged 
 to live in Macedonia. She thinks I will stop 
 painting after I am married." 
 
 " We'll show her how mistaken she is. Two 
 are better than one, even in a studio, and if the 
 two happen to be one, there is every reason why
 
 Annie e Wynkoop, Artist. 283 
 
 art should flourish. I expect to see your pictures 
 hung on the line at the Salon, my dear. Who 
 knows but it may be a picture of Grandma Wyn- 
 koop? By the way, what does she think of this 
 affair ? " 
 
 " She said she saw it coming the evening when 
 we went to hear Irving. I wish I had," said Nan 
 boldly. " Is that a dreadful thing to say ? " 
 
 "Dreadful? I should think it was. I don't see 
 how you could help knowing the state of my feel- 
 ings. I wanted to take the train for Macedonia 
 and kill Bamford. Poor man, perhaps it would 
 have been more merciful than to have left him to 
 Clara Henshawe." 
 
 " Why, Theodore Frost, what an unkind thing 
 to say. Clara is as good as gold, only of course, 
 she does talk a great deal." 
 
 " Exactly. It was her conversational powers 
 to which I had reference, my love. However, 
 Bamford is quiet enough, perhaps he likes the 
 opposite. For my part, I don't see how a man 
 can change his mind so easily, and he seems to be 
 a man of very strong will. I almost wonder he 
 didn't make you marry him. Jess says she was 
 afraid he would." 
 
 " I was almost afraid of it till that day we went 
 sketching along the Bronx. I realized then that 
 I was little Nan Wynkoop no longer, that I was 
 very much grown up and knew my own mind." 
 
 "Just think of it, Nan, through that wretched
 
 284 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 Bamford we have lost a whole year out of our 
 lives. If he hadn't been hanging around you, 
 ' sighing like a furnace,' I should have spoken that 
 day. We'll never get this year back, not if we 
 live to celebrate our diamond wedding. I'll never 
 forgive the teacher. I hope Clara will talk him 
 to death. Hanging is too good for him." 
 
 " Hush, there they come. I hear the sound of 
 wheels." 
 
 " I don't, I hear the sound of Clara's voice. Do 
 you suppose she'll stay out here ? If she does 
 I'm going back to the hotel." 
 
 " It is quite time you went, Teddy. The clock 
 struck ten some time ago. We keep early hours 
 here. Probably Charlotte is waiting to lock up 
 the house, but she can't do it when ' the youngest ' 
 has a beau on the front steps." 
 
 " I suppose I must go, after that gentle hint. 
 You haven't promised me that you'll be ready for 
 Paris in four weeks." 
 
 " I will be ready. My devotion to art is such 
 that" 
 
 Mr. Frost prevented Nan from finishing the 
 sentence. " It is quite time you said something 
 about your devotion to me. Do you want me to 
 be jealous of art ? Mercy, here come Clara and 
 Bamford ! I'll escape this way. Good night, 
 sweetheart, I'll see you early in the morning."
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 WHEN Nan and her husband went abroad on 
 what he called " the long trail," they expected to 
 be gone a year, but the year lengthened into five. 
 Two flying trips were made to America, but they 
 went back to take up their work again. 
 
 The years since Nan's marriage had been very 
 full ones. There had been a great deal of hard 
 work, but a great deal of fun had been sandwiched 
 in between the work. They had tired of hotel 
 life almost as soon as they began it, and then had 
 followed a haphazard kind of housekeeping which 
 would have driven some men to the verge of 
 distraction, but which exactly suited Theodore 
 Frost. 
 
 Nan and he painted together, and went on 
 pleasure trips together when tired of work. They 
 were the best of friends, despite the well-known 
 saying that " two of a trade never agree." Nan 
 realized that she did better work because of this 
 partnership than she could have done alone. Van 
 Alstyne's prediction was fast coming true, and this 
 clever young artist's work was becoming known 
 on both sides of the water. So much for the 
 
 artist ! 
 
 285 -.. > -
 
 286 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 As for the woman, if her husband's verdict 
 could be accepted, she was growing more charm- 
 ing every day. A perfectly happy woman is apt 
 to be a beautiful one, and Nan's content wrote 
 itself upon her face. 
 
 Into this ideal life had come a new joy a little 
 daughter. Nan, who always saw more in a face 
 than anyone else, fancied that the tiny maiden 
 resembled Grandma Wynkoop, and she gave the 
 child her name, Barbara. 
 
 The baby was reared in a happy-go-lucky 
 fashion, and according to the predictions of many 
 people, she should have died in early infancy. 
 But instead of dying she thrived, and was a bundle 
 of good nature. Most of her day was spent in the 
 studio, for her mother could not be content if she 
 was out of her sight for an hour at a time. As 
 soon as she could creep she would make a " bee- 
 line " for a palette, if left within her reach, and 
 she was blissfully happy when her little dress was 
 smeared with paint. Nan would ring for Babette, 
 and tell her to put another dress on the child, 
 then she would go on with her painting. 
 
 Of course Nan found the baby an excellent 
 model, and she soon announced to her husband 
 that "her line" would be children's portraits. 
 She painted this precious child of hers so often 
 that Mr. Frost declared that he would not have 
 his daughter's good nature imposed upon. 
 
 They might have gone on in this happy, care-
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 287 
 
 free life for five years more, had not Mr. Frost's 
 business called him home. Both Nan and he 
 realized that it was time they returned to America. 
 Nan longed to see the dear ones in Macedonia 
 and show them her little Barbara. 
 
 So their canvases were packed and good-byes 
 said to the artist friends who had come to seem 
 so near. Once resolved to go, both Nan and her 
 husband were impatient to reach home. 
 
 " I feel somewhat as Jessica does about New 
 York," Nan said to Mr. Frost one evening, as they 
 paced the deck, while the child slept below in the 
 care of the good Babette. " I long to see the dear 
 old city again. Ever since we started I have 
 thought of that sail up the bay. Don't you re- 
 member how beautiful it is? Even the bay of 
 Naples can't equal it. I can't understand why we 
 didn't come before." 
 
 " You may as well restrain your impatience, 
 unless you want to get out and walk. I can get 
 along very well without seeing New York. I want 
 to see Macedonia more. I want to ride be- 
 hind old Billy, and I want to go after the cows. 
 I want to sit on the stile at the foot of the apple 
 orchard and make love to you." 
 
 " You needn't have all those accessories, Teddy. 
 You have made love to me ever since that day 
 you began it on the stile. I'll say that much for 
 you, dear ; you have kept up the love-making 
 business right along."
 
 288 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 " If we are not careful, Mrs. Frost, we shall be- 
 come sentimental. What do you suppose your 
 people will say to me for keeping you away from 
 them so long? " 
 
 " It is a shame. I should have gone back before. 
 Happiness has made me selfish, I fear. But it 
 will be different now ; I shall go home often. My 
 people will want to see the baby as often as pos- 
 sible. She is the only grandchild. I don't know 
 why ' the youngest Wynkoop girl ' has so much 
 more than the others," Nan added, half sadly, 
 " They all deserve more than I, yet I have you, 
 and baby, and my art. Yet, after all, what one 
 hasn't had one doesn't miss." 
 
 " Don't be sad, little woman. We shall be in 
 New York in less than twenty-four hours, so save 
 your strength for Clara Bam ford's greeting. No 
 doubt she is standing on the wharf already, wait- 
 ing for your ship to come in. For my part, I am 
 anxious to see Bamford and know how he has 
 borne up under that enthusiasm for five years." 
 
 " Teddy, you are uncharitable. Clara writes 
 that they are very happy." 
 
 " They may be happy, but I know he is tired." 
 
 While the steamer which was carrying Mr. and 
 Mrs. Frost was nearing New York, there was great 
 commotion in Mrs. Henshawe-Bamford's small 
 house in aLong Island town. The whole house 
 was swept and garnished, but the studio received 
 particular attention. Mrs. Henshawe-Bamford
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 289 
 
 was not so devoted to her studio as formerly, for 
 Mr. Bamford and two very lively boys demanded 
 much of her time. So sometimes art languished 
 for weeks together. 
 
 But now the studio was the most important 
 room in the house All the old-time treasures, 
 which the Philistine Mr. Bamford called " traps," 
 were put in their old places, for it was Clara's 
 object to make this studio look exactly like the 
 one which she and Nan had shared. 
 
 " If she doesn't say it looks natural I'll never 
 forgive her," said Clara, as she stepped back to 
 get the best effect. "Yes, it is exactly like our 
 old studio, and it ought to remind her of all those 
 good old times. I hope she won't be too fine and 
 foreign to appreciate what 1 have been doing." 
 
 Nan saw the studio before going to her room. 
 " It looks like old times," she cried, dropping down 
 on the divan. " There is the desk, the cabinet, 
 the easel stands in the same place, and all the 
 ' properties ' are just where they used to be. Oh, 
 Clara, why have you hung up those dreadful old 
 studies of mine? But isn't the whole thing natu- 
 ral ? It seems as if Basil Parrish must come in 
 and walk around as if he owned the whole thing, 
 and say disagreeable things about our last work. 
 We saw a good deal of Basil in Paris. He was in 
 the studio two or three times a week. He really 
 paints very well now ; even Teddy acknowledges 
 that.
 
 290 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 Now I want to see your boys. Is it really 
 possible that you and I are so matronly and dig- 
 nified ?" 
 
 Clara's baby was brought in and duly admired. 
 Then Nan demanded ' the Boy,' as young Alan 
 Bamford was always called. He had been dressed 
 in his best, and admonished to stay in the nursery 
 and amuse himself with his best toys, till the 
 guests should arrive. But there had been a 
 shower that morning, and a beautiful mud puddle 
 in the back yard was too much for him to resist. 
 When Clara found him he was a most disreputa- 
 ble looking child. She felt like crying, and she 
 told her husband afterward that the Frost baby 
 looked like an angel in her flaxen curls and dainty 
 dress, while the Bamford boy was as black as the 
 " ace of spades." 
 
 Nan spent a few days with Clara and found her 
 much the same. The old enthusiasm was there, 
 but it was distributed over so many different 
 objects, her husband, her children, her house, 
 her art, and a half-dozen clubs and societies for 
 improving the town, that, as Mr. Frost said, she 
 couldn't ride any particular hobby to death. She 
 was genuinely proud of Nan, and she told her so 
 a dozen times a day. 
 
 Mr. Bamford was making a success of his pro- 
 fession, and he seemed very happy in his home 
 life. He still retained a little of his teachery 
 manner, though he was greatly improved.
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 291 
 
 Nan was anxious to get to Macedonia, and she 
 tore herself away from Clara. Old Billy was dead, 
 and a new horse took them from the station. 
 Nan could not see that her father had aged since 
 she last saw him. Life had been easier of late, 
 and as the burden of care had gradually lifted, he 
 looked and seemed more like his old self. 
 
 There had been no changes under the old brown 
 roof. Emma Anna and Charlotte still made 
 dresses and taught school, and Harriet dispensed 
 library books to the youth of the neighboring 
 town. Mrs. Wynkoop "kept a girl" to do the 
 housework, and she was able to spend more time 
 in the Boston rocker. Grandma was still living, 
 hale and hearty, and her pride in her favorite 
 granddaughter knew no bounds. 
 
 As for the great-grand daughter, she insisted 
 that there never had been such a child since the 
 world began. That the baby was named for her 
 was an infinite satisfaction, and she insisted that 
 Wynkoop be added for a " middle name." The 
 rights of the baby's admiring grandparents and 
 aunts were completely ignored by the jealous 
 great-grandmother. If she wanted Barbara every 
 one else must stand aside. 
 
 " Nan," she said one day, " why don't you go 
 into the attic and paint?" 
 
 " Why, grandma, I am taking a vacation. And 
 who should I paint?" 
 
 " Who, indeed, but the two Barbaras? I'd like
 
 292 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 to be taken with the baby. I'll wear anything 
 you like, and I'll sit like a bump on a log for any 
 length of time, if you'll only paint us. I'll wear 
 my own hair, too, Nan." 
 
 Nan agreed, and the attic studio was made 
 ready. Grandma was ready long before Nan had 
 found her materials. The old lady took the child 
 in her arms and held her in the most awkward 
 fashion possible. The baby, who no doubt in- 
 herited an artistic instinct, snuggled herself com- 
 fortably against grandma's shoulder. The pose 
 suited Nan almost exactly, and she began to 
 work. 
 
 It was a labor of love, and her brush flew. 
 Grandma was very good and patient and the baby 
 was so used to being painted that she did not 
 mind in the least. 
 
 Mr. Frost knew nothing of the portrait till, one 
 morning, missing his family, he climbed to the 
 studio. It was during the models' rest, and he 
 went to inspect the picture. 
 
 " Bravo, Nan ! " was his exclamation. " This is 
 the best thing we have ever done, and we'll ex- 
 hibit it. How would you like to be in an exhib- 
 ition, grandma? That is what Nan will bring 
 you to." 
 
 " Grandma was my first patron," said Nan, 
 taking a tube of paint from the baby's hands. " I 
 received twenty-five dollars for my first picture, 
 and that is more than every artist can say."
 
 Annice Wynkoop, Artist. 293 
 
 " You have raised your price somewhat since 
 then," grandma chuckled. " Art has paid you 
 better than the Pine Ridge school would have 
 done. And you have done well by your folks, 
 Annice." 
 
 " I have one thing against you, grandmother 
 Wynkoop," said Mr. Frost. " You wanted Nan 
 to marry the teacher." 
 
 " That was before I saw you, Theodore." 
 
 " A very graceful speech, grandma. I should 
 rise and bow my acknowledgments if I could get 
 rid of this youngster of mine." 
 
 "Annice has done well, as I often tell the re- 
 lations and the neighbors. She's got a man that 
 worships the ground she walks on, and she can 
 make as good a picture as the next one, I don't 
 care who it may be." 
 
 " It is time to pose again, grandma." 
 
 " I suppose it is. Let Theodore stay and talk 
 to me about Paris. I admire to hear him de- 
 scribe it. I'd like to go some time if I wasn't too 
 old." 
 
 " I'll tell you what will be easier, grandma. 
 You shall come to us in New York every winter 
 and stay as long as you like. We are going to 
 settle in New York, and you may look out for 
 some great picture from us." 
 
 "Are you going to give up the engineering 
 business ? " 
 
 " Yes ; I am going to give up the engineering
 
 294 Annie e Wynkoop, Artist. 
 
 business. I'm a painter or nothing, now. Just 
 remember, grandma, that you are booked for a 
 long stay in New York next winter." 
 
 " I'll be sure to come. Macedonia is pretty 
 dull in winter." 
 
 " I'll show you the portrait of the two Bar- 
 baras if you will stay for the spring exhibition." 
 
 " Don't be too sure, Teddy," warned Nan. 
 
 But it turned out as Mr. Frost had said. The 
 picture which took the first prize the next spring 
 was a portrait of an old lady with white hair hold- 
 ing a beautiful child. The picture was signed 
 "A. W. F. " 
 
 Visitors sometimes noticed that the original old 
 lady often stood before the picture. She was 
 invariably accompanied by a tall man, who seemed 
 to have a special interest in the portrait. 
 
 THE END
 
 A, L. Bunt's Catalogue of Books for 
 Young People by Popular Writers, 52- 
 58 Duane Street, New York ^ X ^ 
 
 BOOKS FOR GIRLS. 
 
 Alice s Adventures in Wonderland. By LEWIS CAEEOLL. 
 
 iSino, cloth. 42 illustrations, price T5 cents. 
 
 ^"u r ^ first to 'a? 4 -, almost without exception, this story la delightfully 
 droll, humorous and illustrated iu harmony with the story." New York 
 
 Through the Looking Glass, and What Alice Found 
 
 There. By LEWIS CARROLL. ISino, cloth. 50 illustrations, price 75 cents. 
 ''A delight alike to the young people and their elders, extremely funny 
 both in text and illustrations." Boston Express. 
 
 Little Lucy's Wonderful Globe. By CHARLOTTE M. 
 
 YOXOE. I3mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 "This story is unique among tales intended for children, alike for pleas- 
 ant instruction, qoalatnCM of humor, gentle pathos, and the subtlety with 
 which lessons moral and otherwise are conveyed to children, and perhaps 
 to their seniors as well." The Spectator. 
 
 Joan's Adventures at the North Pole and Elsewhere. 
 
 BY ALICE CORKBAN. lamo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 "Wonderful as the adventures of Joan are. It must be admitted that 
 they are very naturally worked out and very plausibly presented. Alto- 
 gether this is an excellent story for girls." Saturday Review. 
 
 Count Tip the Sunny Days : A Story for Girls and Boye. 
 
 By C. A. JONES. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 "An unusually good children's story." Glasgow Herald. 
 
 The Dove in the Eagle's Nest. By CHARLOTTE M. 
 
 YONGE. 13mo. cloth, illustrated, price 81.00. 
 
 "Among all the modern writers we believe Miss Yonge first, not in 
 genius, but in this, that she employs her groat abilities for a high and 
 noble purpose. We know of few modern writers whose works mp / be so 
 safely commended as hers." Cleveland Times. 
 
 Jan of the Windmill. A Story of the Plains. By MRS. 
 
 12mo. cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 Never has Mrs. lowing published a more charming volume, and that 
 
 A Sweet Girl Graduate. By L. T. MEADE. 12mo, cloth, 
 
 illustrated, price 81.00. 
 
 "One of this popular author's best. The characters are well Imagined 
 and drawn. The story moves with plenty of spirit and the InU-ToSt doee 
 not flag until the end too quickly comes." Providence Journal. 
 
 For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of pi t by the 
 publisher, A. L. BUKT, 52-58 Duane Street, New York.
 
 2 A. L. BURT'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 
 BOOKS FOR GIRLS. 
 
 Six to Sixteen: A Story for Girls. By JULIANA 
 
 HORATIA EWING. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 1.00. 
 
 "There is no doubt as to the good quality and attractiveness of 'Six to 
 Sixteen.' The book is one which would enrich any girl's book shelf," 
 St. James' Gazette. 
 
 The Palace Beautiful: A Story for Girls. By L. T. 
 
 MEADE. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "A bright and interesting story. The many admirers of Mrs. b. T. 
 Meade in this country will be delighted with the 'Palace Beautiful' for 
 more reasons than one. It is a charming book for girls." New York 
 
 of Girls : The Story of a School. By L. T. 
 
 MEADE. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "One of those wholesome stories which it does one good to read. It 
 will afford pure delight to numerous readers. This book should be on 
 every girl's book shelf." Boston 'Home Journal. 
 
 The Lady of the Forest : A Story for Girls. By L. T. 
 
 MEADE. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "This story is written in the author's well-^nown, fresh and easy style. 
 All girls fond of reading will he charmed by this well-written story. It 
 is told with the author's customary grace and spirit." Boston Times. 
 
 At the Back of the North Wind. By GEORGE MAC- 
 
 DONALD. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 81.00. 
 
 "A very pretty story, with much of the freshness and vigor of Mr. Mac- 
 (Jonald's earlier work. . . . It is a sweet, earnest, and wholesome fairy 
 story, and the quaint native huoior is delightf"-. A most delightful vol- 
 ume for young readers." Philadelphia Times. 
 
 The Water Babies: A Fairy Tale for a Land Baby. 
 
 By CHARLES KINGSLEY. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "The strength of h?s work, as well as its peculiar charms, consist In 
 his description of the experiences of a youth with life under water in the 
 luxuriant wealth of which he revels with all the ardor of a poetical na- 
 ture." New York Tribune. 
 
 Our Bessie. By ROSA N". CAREY. 12mo, cloth, ilhis- 
 
 strated, price $1.00. 
 
 "One of the most entertaining stories of the season, full of vigorous 
 action, and strong in character-painting. Elder girls will be charmed with 
 it, and adulcs may redd its pages with profit." The Teachers' Aid. 
 
 Wild Kitty. A Story of Middleton School. By L. T. 
 
 MEADE. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "Kitty is a true heroine warm-hearted, self-sacrificing, and, as all 
 good women nowadays are. largely touched with the enthusiasm of human- 
 ity. One of the most attractive gift books of the season." The Academy. 
 
 A Young Mutineer. A Story for Girls. By L. T. 
 
 MEADE. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "One of Mrs. Meade's charming books for girls, narrated in that simple 
 and picturesque style which marks t*>e authoress as one of the first among 
 writers for young people." The Spectator. 
 
 For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the 
 publisher, A. L. BURT, 52-58 Duane Street, New York.
 
 A. L. BURT^S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 3 
 
 BOOKS FOR GIRLS. 
 
 Sue and I. By MRS. O'REILLY. 12mo, cloth, illus- 
 
 trated, price 75 cents. 
 
 "A thoroughly delightful book, full of sound wisdom as well as fun." 
 Athenaeum. 
 
 The Princess and the Goblin. A Fairy Story. By 
 
 GEORGE MACDONALD. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 "If 11 child once begins this book, it will get so deeply Interested In 
 it that when bedtime conies it will altogether forget the moral, and will 
 weary its parents with importunities for just a few minutes more to see 
 Uow everything ends." Saturday Keview. 
 
 Pythia's Pupils: A Story of a School. By EVA 
 
 HARTNER. 12ino, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "This story of the doings of several bright school girls Is sure to Interest 
 girl readers. Among many good stories lor girls this is undoubtedly one 
 of the very best." Teachers' Aid 
 
 A Story of a Short Life. By JULIANA HORATIA EWING. 
 
 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1 00. 
 
 "The book is one we can heartily recommend, for it Is not only bright 
 and interesting, but also pure and healthy in tone and teaching.' 
 Courier. 
 
 The Sleepy King. A Fairy Tale. By AUBREY HOP- 
 WOOD AND SEYM. an; iiicus. l''nu>, cloth, illustrated, price 7.~> i ents. 
 "Wonderful as the adventures of Bluebell" are, it must be admitted that 
 
 they are very naturally worked out and very plausibly pretested. 
 
 Altogether 'this is an excellent story for girls." Saturday Review. 
 
 Two Little Waifs. By MRS. MOLESWORTH. 12mo, 
 
 cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 "Mrs. Molesworth's delightful story of 'Two Little Waifs' will charm 
 all the small people who lind it in their stockings. It relates the ad- 
 ventures of t\\o lovable English children List in Paris, and is just wonder- 
 ful enough to pleasantly wring the youthful heart." New York Tribune, 
 
 Adventures in Toyland. By EDITH KING HALL. 12mo, 
 
 cloth, illustrated, price <5 cents. 
 
 "The author is such a bright, cheery writer, that her stories are 
 always acceptable to all who are not confirmed cynics, and her record^ of 
 th-> adventures is as entertaining and enjoyable as we might expect. 
 Boston Courier. 
 
 Adventures in Wallypug Land. By G. E. FARROW. 
 
 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 "These adventures are simply Inimitable, and will delight boys and glrlj 
 of mature ace, as well as their juniors. No happier combination of 
 author and artist than this volume presents could be found to furnish 
 healthy amusement to the young folks. The book is an artistic one in 
 i very 'sense." Toronto Mail. 
 
 Fussbudget's Folks. A Story for Young Girls. By 
 
 ANNA F. BURNHAM. 12uio, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "Mrs. Burnhain has a rare gift for composing stories for children. With 
 a light, yet forcible touch, she paints sweet and artless, yet natural and 
 Hlrong, ' characters. ' ' Congregationaliat. ___ 
 
 For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receint of price by Uw 
 publisher, AT L. BUKT, 62-68 Duane Street, New York.
 
 4 A. L. BURIES BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 
 
 BOOKS FOR GIRLS. 
 
 Mixed Pickles. A Story for Girls. By MBS. E. M. 
 
 FIELD, 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 "It Is, in its way, a little classic, of which the real beauty and pathos 
 can hardly be appreciated by young people. It is not too much to say 
 of the story that it is perfect of its kind." Good Literature. 
 
 Miss Mouse and Her Boys. A Story for Girls. By 
 
 MRS. MOLESWORTH. l2mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 "Mrs. Molesworth's books are cheery, wholesome, and particularly well 
 adapted to refined life. It is safe to add that she is the best English prose 
 writer for children. A new volutre from Mrs. Molesworth Is always a 
 treat." The Beacon. 
 
 Gilly Flower. A Story for Girls. By the author of 
 
 " Miss Toosey's Mission." 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "Jill is a little guardian angel to three lively brothers who tease and 
 play with her. . . . Her unconscious goodness brings right thoughts 
 and resolves to several persons who come into contact with her. There is 
 no goodiness in this tale, but its influence is of the best kind." Literary 
 World. 
 
 The Chaplet of Pearls ; or, The White and Black Kibau- 
 
 mont. By CHARLOTTE M. YONGE. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 "Full of spirit and life, so well sustained throughout that grown-up 
 readers may enjoy it as much as children. It is one of the best books of 
 the season." Guardian. 
 
 Naughty Miss Bunny: Her Tricks and Troubles. By 
 
 CLARA MCLHOLLAND. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 "The naughty child is positively delightful. Papas should not omit the 
 book from their list of juvenile presents." Land and Water. 
 
 Meg's Friend. By ALICE CORKRAN. 12mo, cloth, 
 
 illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "One of Miss Corkran's charming books for girls, narrated In that simple 
 and picturesque style which marks the authoress as one of the first among 
 writers for young people." The Spectator. 
 
 Averii. By KOSA N. CAREY. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, 
 
 price Jl.OO. 
 
 "A charming story for young folks. Averii Is a delightful creature 
 piquant, tender, and true and her varying fortunes are perfectly real- 
 istic." World. 
 
 Aunt Diana. By KOSA N. CAREY. 12mo, cloth, illus- 
 trated, price $1.00. 
 
 "An excellent story, the Interest being sustained from first to last. 
 This Is, both in its intention and the way the story is told, one of the 
 best books of its kind tvhich has come before us this year." Saturday 
 Review. 
 
 Little Sunshine's Holiday: A Picture from Life. By 
 
 Miss MrLocK. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 "This is a pretty narrative of child life, describing the simple doing* 
 and savings, ff a verv charming and ratber precocious child. This is a 
 delightful book for young people." Gazette. 
 
 For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by th 
 publisher. A. L. BUST, 62-56 Duane Street, New York.
 
 A. L. HURT'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 5 
 
 BOOKS FOR GIRLS. 
 
 Esther's Charge. A Story for Girls. By ELLEN EVERETT 
 
 GREEN. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "... This Is a story showing in a charming way how one little 
 girl's jealousy and bad temper were conquered; one of the best, most 
 suggestive and improving of the Christmas juveniles." New York Trib- 
 une. 
 
 Fairy Land of Science. By ARABELLA B. BUCKLEY, 
 
 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 Merle's Crusade. By ROSA N. CAREY. 12mo, cloth, 
 
 illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "Among the books for young people we have seen nothing more unique 
 than this book. Like all of this author's stories it will please young read- 
 ers by the very attractive and charming style in which it is written." 
 Journal. 
 
 Birdie: A Tale of Child Life. By H. L. CHILDE- 
 
 PEMBERTON. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 "The story is quaint and simple, but there is a freshness about It 
 that makes one hear again the ringing laugh and the cheery shout of chil- 
 dren at play which charmed his earlier years." New York Express. 
 
 The Days of Bruce: A Story from Scottish History. 
 
 By GRACE AGUIUAR. 12ino, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 "There is a delightful freshness, sincerity and vivacity about all of Grace 
 Aguilar's stories which cannot fnil to win the interest and admiration of 
 every lover of good reading." Boston Beacon. 
 
 Three Bright Girls : A Story of Chance and Mischance. 
 
 By ANNIE E. ARMSTRONG. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 "The charm of the story lies in the cheery helpfulness of spirit devel- 
 oped in the girls by their changed circumstances; while the author fi 
 a pleasant ending to all their happy makeshifts. The story is charmingly 
 told, and the book can be warmly recommended as a present for girls. - 
 Standard. 
 
 Giannetta : A Girl's Story of Herself. By KOSA MUL- 
 
 HOI.LAND. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "Extremely well told and full of interest. Giannetta is a true heroine 
 warm-hearted, self-sacrificing, and, as all good women nowaday! are, 
 largely touched with enthusiasm of humanity. The illustrations are un- 
 usually good. One of the most attractive gift books of the season. - 
 Academy. 
 
 Margery Merton's Girlhood. By ALICE CORKRAN. 
 
 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price fl.OO. 
 
 "The experiences of an orphan girl who in Infancy is left 
 father to the care of an elderly aunt residing near IMris. 
 of the various persons who have an after influence on th.y 
 gularlv vivid. There is a subtle attraction about the book which will mak 
 it a great favorite with thoughtful girls." Saturday Review. 
 
 For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the 
 publisher, A. L. BVBT, 52-68 Duane Street, New York.
 
 6 A. L. HURT'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 
 BOOKS FOR GIRLS. 
 
 Under False Colors: A Story from Two Girls' Lives. 
 
 By SARAH DOUDNEY. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 "Sarah Doudney has no superior as a writer of high-toned stories pure 
 in style, original in conception, and with skillfully wrought out plots; but 
 we have seen nothing equal in dramatic energy to this book." Christian 
 Leader. 
 
 Down the Snow Stairs; or, From Good-night to Good- 
 morning. By ALICE CORKRAX. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents 
 "Among all the Christmas volumes which the year has brought to our 
 table this one stands ont facile princeps a gem of the first water, bearing 
 upon every one of its pages the signet mark of genius. . . . All is told 
 with such simplicity and perfect naturalness that the dream appears to be 
 a solid reality. It is indeed a Little Pilgrim's Progress." Chr.stian 
 Leader. 
 
 The Tapestry Room: A Child's Eomance. By MRS. 
 
 MOLESWORTH. ISJmo. clotli, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 "Mrs. Molesworth is a charming painter of the nature and ways of 
 children;! and she has done good service in giving us this charming 
 juv.nile which will delight the young people." Athenaeum, London. 
 
 Little Miss Peggy: Only a Nursery Story. By MRS. 
 
 MOLESWORTH. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 Mrs. Molesworth's children are finished studies. A joyous earnest spirit 
 pervades her work, and her sympathy is unbounded. She loves them 
 with her whole heart, while she lays bare their little minds, and expresses 
 their foibles, their faults, their -virtues, their inward struggles, their 
 conception of duty, and their instinctive knowledge of the right and wrong 
 of things. She knows their characters, she understands their wants, 
 and she desires to help them. 
 
 Polly: A New Fashioned Girl. By L. T. MEADE. 
 
 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1 .00. 
 
 Few authors have achieved a popularity equal to Mrs. Meade as a 
 writer of stories for young girls. Her characters are living beings of 
 flesh and blood, not lay figures of conventional type. Into the trials 
 and crosses, and everyday experiences, the reader enters at once with zest 
 and hearty sympathy. While Mrs. Meade always writes with a high 
 moral purpose, her lessons of life, purity and nobility of character are 
 rather inculcated by example than intruded as sermons. 
 
 By the author of "Miss Toosey's 
 
 The Little Princess of Tower Hill. By L. T. MEADE. 
 
 I2mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 "This is one of the prettiest books for children published, as pretty 
 as a pond-lily, and quite as fragrant. Nothing could be imagined more 
 attractive to young peonle than such a combination of frrsh pages and 
 fair pictures: and while children will rejoice over it which is mnch 
 better than crying for it it is a book thrt rnn be read with pleasure 
 even by older hoys and girls." Boston Advertiser. 
 
 For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on reeotnt of price by the 
 publisher, A. L. BTJRT, 58-58 Duane Street, New York,
 
 A. L. DUET'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 7 
 
 BOOKS FOR GIRLS. 
 
 Kosy. By MRS. MOLESWORTH. 12wo, cloth, illustrated, 
 
 price 75 cents. 
 
 Mrs. Molesworth, considering the quality and quantity of her labors, 
 is the best story-teller for children England has yet known. 
 
 "This is a very pretty story. The writer knows children, and their 
 ways well. The illustrations are exceedingly well drawn." Spectator. 
 
 Esther : A Book for Girls. By ROSA N. CAREY. 12mo, 
 
 cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "She inspires her readers simply by bringing them in contact with the 
 characters, who are in themselves inspiring. Her simple stories are woven 
 in order to give her an opportunity to describe her characters by their owe 
 conduct in seasons of trial." Chicago Times. 
 
 Sweet Content. By MRS. MOU:S\VORTH. 12mo, cloth, 
 
 illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 "It seems to me not at all easier to dra^w a lifelike child than to draw 
 a lifelike man or woman: Shakespeare and Webster were the only two 
 men of their age who could do it with perfect delicacy and success. 
 Our own age is more fortunate, on this single score at least, having a 
 larger and far nobler proportion of female writers; among whom, since 
 the death of George Eliot, there is none left whose touch is so exquisite 
 and masterly, whose love is so thoroughly according to knowledge, whose 
 bright and sweet invention is so fruitful, so truthful, or so delightful as 
 Mrs. Molesworth's." A. C, Swinbourne. 
 
 Honor Bright ; or, The Four-Leaved Shamrock. By the 
 
 author of " Miss Toosey's Mission." 12mo. cloth, illustrated, price $1 00. 
 "It requires a special talent to describe the sayings and doings of 
 children, and the author of 'Honor Bright,' 'One of a Covey," possesses that 
 talent in no small degree. A cheery, sensible, and healthy tale." The 
 Times. 
 
 The Cuckoo Clock. By MRS. MOLESWORTH. 12mo, 
 
 cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 "A beautiful little story. It will be read with delight by every child 
 into whose hands it is placed. . . . The author deserves all the praise 
 that has been, is, and will be bestowed on 'The Cuckoo Clock.' Children 
 stories are plentiful, but one like this is not to be met with every day. 
 Pall Mall Gazette. 
 
 The Adventures of a Brownie. As Told to my Child. 
 
 By Miss MULOCK. 12ma, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 "The author of this delightful little book leaves it in doubt all through 
 whether there actually is such a creature in existence as a Brownie, but 
 she makes us hope that there might be." Chicago Standard. 
 
 Only a Girl: A Tale of Brittany. From the French 
 
 by C. A. JONES. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "We can thoroughly recommend this brightly written and homely nar- 
 rative." Saturday Review. 
 
 Little Rosebud; or, Things Will Take a Turn. By 
 
 BEATRICE HARRADF.X. 12 n \ cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 "A most delightful little book. . . . Miss Harraden is so bright, BO 
 healthv and so natural withal that the book ought, ns a matter ( duty, 
 to be 'added to every girl's library In the land." Boston Tramcr.pt. 
 
 For^mle by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the 
 publisher, A. L. BTJRT, 62-58 Duane Street, Nrw York.
 
 8 A. L. SUET'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 
 BOOKS FOR GIRLS. 
 
 Girl Neighbors ; or, The Old Fashion and the New. By 
 
 SARAH TYTLER. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 1.00. 
 
 "One of the most effective and quietly humorous of Miss Tytler's stories. 
 'Girl Neighbors' is a pleasant comedy, not so much of errors as of preju- 
 dices got rid of, very healthy, very agreeable, and very well written." 
 Spectator. 
 
 The Little Lame Prince and His Traveling Cloak. By 
 
 Miss MULOCK. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 "No sweeter that is the proper word Christmas story for the little 
 folks could easily be found, and it is as delightful for older readers as 
 well. There is a moral to it which the reader can find out for himself, if 
 he chooses to think." Cleveland Herald. 
 
 Little Miss Joy. By EMMA MARSHALL. 12mo, cloth, 
 
 illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 "A very pleasant and instructive story, told by a very charming writer 
 in such an attractive way as to win favor among its young readers. The 
 illustrations arid to the beauty of the book." Utioa Herald. 
 
 The House that Grew. A Girl's Story. By MRS. MOLES- 
 WORTH. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 "This is a very pretty story of English life. Mrs. Molesworth is one 
 
 of the most popular and charming of English story-writers for children. 
 
 Her child characters are true to life, always natural and attractive, 
 
 and her stories are wholesome and interesting." Indianapolis Journal. 
 
 The House of Surprises. By L. T. MEADE. 12mo, 
 
 cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 "A charming tale of charming children, who are naughty enough to be 
 Interesting, and natural enough to be lovable; and very prettily their story 
 Is told. The quaintest yet most natural stories of child life. Simply 
 delightful." Vanity Fair. 
 
 The Jolly Ten: and their Year of Stories. By AGNES 
 
 CARR SAGE. 12ino, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 The story of a band of cousins who were accustomed to meet at the 
 "Pinery," with "Aunt Roxy." At her fireside they play merry games, 
 have suppers flavored with innocent fun, and listen to stories each with 
 its lesson calculated to make the ten not less Jolly, but quickly re- 
 sponsive to the calls of duty and to the needs of others. 
 
 Little Miss Dorothy. The Wonderful Adventures of 
 
 Two Little People. By MARTHA JAMES. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75c. 
 
 "This is a charming little juvenile story from the pen of Mrs. James, 
 
 detailing the various adventures of a couple of young children. Their 
 
 many adventures are told in n charming manner, and the book will 
 
 please young girls and boys." Montreal Star. 
 
 Pen's Venture. A Story for Girls. By ELVIRTON 
 
 WRIOHT. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 Something Pen saw in the condition of the cash girls in a certain store 
 gave her a thought; the thought became a plan; the plan became a ven- 
 ture Pen's venture. It is amusing, touching, and instructive to read about 
 
 For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the 
 publisher, A. L. BURT, 52-58 Duane Street, New York.
 
 A. L. BURT^S BOOKS FOR tOUNG PEOPLE. 9 
 
 FAIRY BOOKS. 
 
 The Blue Fairy Book. Edited by ANDREW LANG. Pro- 
 fusely illustrated, 12mo, cloth, price $1.00. 
 "The tales are simply delightful. No amount of description can do 
 
 them justice. The only way is to read the hook through from cover to 
 
 cover." Book Review, 
 
 The Green Fairy Book. Edited by ANDREW LANG. 
 
 Profusely illustrated, 12mo, cloth, price $1.00. 
 
 "The most delightful book of fairy tales, taking form and contents to- 
 gether, ever presented to children." E. S. Hartland, in Folk-Lore. 
 
 The Yellow Fairy Book. Edited by ANDREW LANG. 
 
 Profusely illustrated, 12mo, cloth, price $1.00. 
 
 "As a collection of fairy tales to delight children of all ages, it rank! 
 second to none." Daily Graphic. 
 
 The Red Fairy Book. Edited by ANDREW LANG. Pro- 
 fusely illustrated, 12mo, cloth, price Sl.i.O. 
 "A gift-book that will charm any child, and all older folk, who have 
 
 been fortunate enough to retain their taste for the old nursery stories." 
 
 Literary World. 
 
 Celtic Fairy Tales. Edited by JOSEPH JACOBS. 12mo, 
 
 cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "A stock of delightful little narratives gathered chiefly from the Celtic- 
 speaking peasants of Ireland. A perfectly lovely book. And oh! the 
 wonderful pictures inside. Get this hook if you can; it is capital, all 
 through." Pall Mall Budget. 
 
 English Fairy Tales. Edited by JOSEPH JACOBS. 12mo, 
 
 cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "The tales are simply delightful. No amount of description can do 
 them justice. The only way is to read the book through from cover to 
 cover. The book is intended to correspond to 'Grimm's Fairy Tales,' 
 and It must he allowed that its pages fairly rival In Interest those of 
 that well-known repository of folk-lore." Morning Herald. 
 
 Indian Fairy Tales. Edited by JOSEPH JACOBS. 12mo, 
 
 cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "Mr. Jacobs brings home to us In a clear and Intelligible manner the 
 enormous Influence which 'Indian Fairy Tales' have had upon European 
 literature of the kind. The present combination will be welcomed not 
 alone by the little ones for whom it is specially combined, but also by 
 children of larger growth and added years." Daily Telegraph. 
 
 Household Fairy Tales. By the BROTHERS GRIMM. 
 
 12mo, cloth, illustrate 1, price $1.00. 
 
 "As a collection of fairy tales to delight children of all ages this 
 work ranks second to none." Daily Graph. o. 
 
 Fairy Tales and Stories. By HANS CHRISTIAN ANDER- 
 SEN. 12mo, cloth, illustrated price 81. 00. 
 "If 1 wore nsVed to select a child's library I fcoonld name these three 
 
 volumes, 'English.' 'Celtic,' and 'Indian Fairy Tales,' with Grimm and 
 
 Hans Andersen's Fairy Tales." Independent. 
 
 For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by til* 
 publisher, A, L. BURT, 52-58 Duan Street, Nw York.
 
 10 A. L. BURT^S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 
 
 FAIRY BOOKS. 
 
 Popular Fairy Tales. By the BROTHEKS GEIMM. IBmo, 
 
 cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "From first to last, almost without exception, these stories are delight- 
 ful. ' ' Athenaeum. 
 
 Icelandic Fairy Tales. By A. W. HALL. 12mo, cloth, 
 
 illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "The most delightful book of fairy tales, taking form and contents to- 
 gether, ever presented to children. The whole collection is dramatic and 
 humorous. A more desirable child's book has not been seen for many a 
 day." Daily News. 
 
 Fairy Tales From the Far North. (Norwegian.) By 
 
 P. C. ASBJORNSEN. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 "If we were asked what present would make a child happiest at Christ- 
 mastide we think we could with a clear conscience point to Mr. Jacobs' 
 book. It is a dainty and an interesting volume." Notes and Queries. 
 
 Cossack Fairy Tales. By R. NISBET BAIN. 12mo, 
 
 cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "A really valuable and curious selection which will be welcomed by 
 readers of all ages. . . . The illustrations by Mr. Batten are often 
 clever and irresistibly bumorous. A delight alike to the young people 
 and their elders." Globe. 
 
 The Golden Fairy Book. By VARIOUS AUTHORS. 12mo, 
 
 cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "The most delightful book of its kind that has come in our way for 
 many a day. It is brimful of pretty stories. Retold in a truly deightful 
 manner. " Graphic. 
 
 The Silver Fairy Book. By VARIOUS AUTHORS. 12mo, 
 
 cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "The book is intended to correspond to 'Grimm's Fairy Tales,' and it 
 must be allowed that its pages fairly rival in interest those of the well- 
 known repository of folk-lore. It is a most delightful volume of fairy 
 tales. ' ' Courier. 
 
 The Brownies, and Other Stories. By JULIANA HORATIA 
 
 EWING. ISino, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 "Like all the books she has written this one is very charming, and 
 is worth more in the hnmls of a child than a score of other stories of a 
 more sensational character." Christian at Work. 
 
 The Hunting of the Snark. An Agony in Eight Fits. 
 
 By LEWIS CARROLL, author of "Alice in Wonderland." 12mo, cloth, illus- 
 trated, price 75 cents. 
 "This glorious piece of nonsense. . . . Everybody ought to read it 
 
 nearly everybody will and all who deserve the treat will scream with 
 
 laughter. " Graphic. 
 
 Lob Lie-By-the-fire, and Other Tales. By JULIANA 
 
 HORATIO EWINO. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 "Mrs. Ewing has written as good a story as her 'Brownies,' and that 
 is saying a great deal. 'Lob Lie-by-the-flre' has humor and pathos, and 
 teaches what is right without making children think they are reading a 
 sermon." Saturday Review. 
 
 For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the 
 publisher, A. L. BURT, 52-58 Duane Street, New York.
 
 A. L. fetlRT^S BOOKS FO& YOUNG PEOPLE. 11 
 
 BOOKS FOR BO VS. 
 
 By Eight of Conquest; or, With Cortez in Mexico. 
 
 By G. A. HENTY, With illustrations by W. S. STACEY. 121110, cloth 
 
 olivine edges, price $1.50. 
 
 "The conquest of Mexico by a small band of resolute men under the 
 magnificent leadership of Cortez is always rightfully ranked among the 
 most romantic and daring exploits in history. 'By Right of Conquest' 
 is the nearest approach to a perfectly successful historical tale that 
 Mr. Henty has yet published." Academy. 
 
 For Name and Fame; or, Through Afghan Passes. 
 
 By G. A HENTY, With illustrations by GORDON BUOWNE. 12mo, cloth 
 
 olivina edges, price $1 .00. 
 
 "Not only a rousing story, replete with all the varied forms of excite- 
 ment of a campaign, but, what is still more useful, an account of a 
 territory and its inhabitants which must for a long time possess a supreme 
 Interest for Englishmen, as being the key to our Indian Empire." 
 Glasgow Herald. 
 
 The Bravest of the Brave; or, With Peterborough in 
 
 Spain. By G. A. HENTY. With illustrations by H. M. PAGET 12mo 
 
 cloth, oliviue edges, prkv $1.00. 
 
 "Mr. Henty never loses sight of the moral purpose of his work to 
 enforce the doctrine of courage and truth, mercy and loving kindness, 
 as indispensable to the making of a gentleman. Boys will read 'The 
 Bravest of the Brave' with pleasure and profit; of that we are quite 
 sure." Daily Telegraph. 
 
 The Cat of Bubastes : A Story of Ancient Egypt. By 
 
 G. A. HENTY. With illustrations. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1.00. 
 "The story, from the critical moment of the killing of the sacred cat 
 to the perilous exodus into Asia with which it closes, is very skillfully 
 constructed and full of exciting adventures. It is admirably illustrated. 
 Saturday Review. 
 
 Bonnie Prince Charlie: A Tale of Fontenoy and Cul- 
 
 loden. By G. A. HENTY. With illustrations by GORDON BROWNE 12iiio, 
 
 cloth, olivine edges, price $1.00. 
 
 "Ronald, the hero, is very like the hero of 'Quentin Durward.' The 
 lad's Journey across France, and his hairbreadth escapes, makes up as 
 good a narrative of the kind as we have ever read. For freshness of 
 treatment and variety of incident Mr. Henty has surpassed himself. - 
 Spectator. 
 
 With Clive in India; or, The Beginnings of an Empire. 
 
 By G. A. HENTY. With illustrations by GORDON BROWNE. I2mo, cloth, 
 
 olivine edges, price $1.00. 
 
 "He has taken a period of Indian history of the most vital Impor- 
 tance, and he has embroidered on the historical facts a story wh ch 
 Itself is deeply interesting. Young people assuredly will be delighted 
 with the volume." Scotsman. 
 
 In the Reign of Terror: The Adventures of a West- 
 minster Boy By G. A HENTY. With illustrations by J. ScEaNBZRG. 
 12uio, cloth, clivine edges, price $1 09. 
 
 "Harry Sandwith, the Westminster boy, may fairly be said i 
 Mr. Henty's record. His adventures will delight boys by theaudacity 
 and peril they depict. The story is one of Mr. Henty s best. Saturday 
 
 Review. ___^______^_ - 
 
 For sal- by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on r.-r.. ipt of price by toe 
 publisher, ft.. L. BUET, 62-68 Duane Street. New York.
 
 A. L. BtJRT's BOOKS PO& YOUNG PEOPLE. 
 
 BOOKS FOR BOYS. 
 
 The Lion of the North: A Tale of Gustavus Adolphus 
 
 and the Wars of Religion. By G. A. HENTY. With illustrations by JOHN 
 
 SCHONBERG. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1.00. 
 
 "A praiseworthy attempt to Interest British youth in the great deeds 
 if the Scotch Brigade in the wars of Gustavus Adolphus. Mackey, Hep- 
 ourn, and Munro live again in Mr. Henty's pages, as those deserve to 
 Jive whose disciplined bands formed really the germ of the modern 
 British army." Athenaeum. 
 
 The Dragon and the Raven; or, The Days of King 
 
 Alfred. By G. A. HENTY. With illustrations by C. J. STANIZ.AND. 12mo, 
 
 cloth, olivine edges, price $1.00. 
 
 In this story the author gives an account 'of the fierce struggle be- 
 tween Saxon and Dane for supremacy in England, and presents a vivid 
 picture of the misery and ruin to which the country was reduced by the 
 ravages of the sea-wolves. The story is treated in a manner most at- 
 tractive to the boyish reader." Athenaeum. 
 
 The Young Carthaginian: A Story of the Times of 
 
 Hannibal. By G. A. HENTY. With illustrations by C. J. STANILAJJD. 12mo, 
 
 cloth, olivine edges, price $1.00. 
 
 "Well constructed and vividly told. From first to last nothing stays 
 the interest of the narrative. It bears us along as on a stream whose 
 current varies in direction, but never loses its force." Saturday Review, 
 
 In Freedom's Cause: A Story of Wallace and Bruce. 
 
 By G. A. HENTY. With illustrations by GORDON BROWNE. 12mo, cloth, 
 
 olivine edges, price $1.00. 
 
 "It is written in the author's best style. Full of the wildest and most 
 remarkable achievements, it is a tale of great interest, which a boy. once 
 he has begun it, will not willingly put one side." The Schoolmaster, 
 
 With Wolfe in Canada; or, The Winning of a Con- 
 tinent. By G. A. HENTY. With illustrations by GORDON BROWNE. 12mo, 
 cloth, olivine edges, price $1.00. 
 
 "A model of what a boys' story-book should be. Mr. Henty has a 
 great power of infusing into the dead facts of history new life, and as 
 no pains are spared by him to ensure accuracy in historic details, his 
 books supply useful aids to study as well as amusement." School Guard- 
 ian. 
 
 True to the Old Flag : A Tale of the American War of 
 
 Independence. By G. A. HENTY. With illustrations by GORDON BROWNE. 
 
 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1.00. 
 
 "Does justice to the pluck and determination of the British sollderg 
 luring the unfortunate struggle against American emancipation. The son 
 Df an American loyalist, who remains true to our flag, falls among the 
 hostile red-skins in that very Huron country which has been endeared 
 to us by the exploits of Hawkeye and Chlngachgook." The Times. 
 
 A. Final Reckoning: A Tale of Bush Life in Aus- 
 tralia. By G. A. HENTY. With illustrations by W. B. WOLLEN. 12mo, 
 cloth, olivine edges, price $1.00. 
 "All boys will read this story with eager and unflagging Interest. The 
 
 episodes are in Mr. Henty's very best vein graphic, exciting, realistic; 
 
 and, as In all Mr. Henty's books, the tendency is to the formation of an 
 
 honorable, manly, and even heroic character." Birmingham Post. 
 
 For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price bv the 
 publisher, A. L. BUST, 52-58 Duane Street, New York.
 
 A. L. HURT'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 13 
 
 BOOKS FOR BOYS. 
 
 The Lion of St. Mark: A Tale of Venice in the Four- 
 teenth Century. By G. A. HENTY. With illustrations by GORDON BRC-WNK. 
 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1.00. 
 "Every boy should read 'The Lion of St. Mark." Mr. Henty has never 
 
 produced a story more delightful, more wholesome, or more vivacious." 
 
 Saturday Review. 
 
 Facing Death; or, The Hero of the Vaughan Pit. A 
 
 Tale of the Coal Mines. By G. A. HENTY. With illustrations by GORDON 
 
 BROWNE. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1.00. 
 
 "The tale Is well written and well Illustrated, and there Is much 
 reality in the characters. If any father, clergyman, or schoolmaster 
 Is on the lookout for a good book to give as a present to a boy who Is 
 worth his salt, this is the book we would recommend." Standard. 
 
 Maori and Settler : A Story of the New Zealand War. 
 
 By G. A. HENTY. With illustrations by ALFRED PKARSE. 12mo, cloth> 
 
 olivine edges, price $1.00. 
 
 "In the adventures among the Maoris, there are many breathless 
 moments in which the odds seem hopelessly against the party, but thc-y 
 succeed In establishing themselves happily In one of the pleasant New 
 Zealand valleys. It is brimful of adventure, of humorous and Interesting 
 conversation, and vivid pictures of colonial life." Schoolmaster. 
 
 One of the 28th: A Tale of Waterloo. By G. A. 
 
 HENTY. With illustrations by W. H. OVERLND. 12mo, cloth, olivine 
 
 edges, price $1.00. 
 
 "Written with Homeric vigor and heroic Inspiration. It Is graphic, 
 picturesque, and dramatically effective . . . shows us Mr. Henty at 
 his best and brightest. The adventures will hold a boy enthralled as he 
 rustics through them with breathless Interest 'from cover to cover.' " 
 Observer. 
 
 Orange and Green : A Tale of the Boyne and Limer- 
 
 ICK. By G. A. HENTY. With illustrations by GORDON BROWNE. 12mo, 
 
 cloth, olivine edges, price $1.00. 
 
 "The narrative Is free from the vice of prejudice, and ripples with 
 life as if what is being described were really passing before the eye." 
 Belfast News-Letter. 
 
 Through the Fray: A Story of the Luddite Riots. 
 
 By G. A. HENTY, With illustrations by H. M. PAOET. 13mo, cloth, olivine 
 
 edges, price $1.00. 
 
 "Mr. Henty inspires a love and admiration for straightforwardness, truth 
 and courage. This Is one of the best of the many good books Mr. 
 Henty has produced, and deserves to be classed with his 'Facing Death.' " 
 Sta'ndard. 
 
 The Young Midshipman: A Story of the Bombard- 
 ment of Alexandria. With illustrations. I2mo, cloth, olivine edge* 
 price $1.00. 
 
 A coast fishing lad, by an act of heroism, secures the interest of 
 a shipowner, who places him as an apprentice on board one of his ships. 
 In company with two of his fellow-apprentices he Is left behind, at 
 Alexandria, in the hands of the revolted Egyptian troops, and Is present 
 through the bombardment and the scenes of riot and bloodshed which 
 ""ccornpanietl It. 
 
 For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the 
 publisher, A. L. BUKI, 62-58 Duane Street, New York.
 
 14 A. L. BURT'S BOOKS FOR totNG 
 
 BOOKS FOR BOYS. 
 
 In Times of Peril. A Tale of India. By G. A 
 
 HENTY. With illustrations. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price Sl.OC. 
 
 The hero of the story early excites our admiration, and is altogetnei 
 a fine character such as boys will delight in, whilst the story of tJat 
 campaign is very graphically told." St. James's Gazette. 
 
 The Cornet of Horse : A Tale of Marlborough's Wars 
 
 By G. A HENTY. With illus- rations. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1 
 "Mr. Henty not only concocts a thrilling tale, he weaves fact and flctios: 
 together with so skillful a hand that the reader cannot help acquiring a 
 just and clear view of that fierce and terrible struggle known as thf 
 Crimean War." Athenaeum. 
 
 The Young Franc-Tireurs : Their Adventures in the 
 
 Franco-Prussian War. By G. A. HENTY. With illustrations. 12mo, cloth, 
 
 olivine edges, price $1.00. 
 
 "A capital book for boys. It is bright and readable, and full of good 
 sense and manliness. It teaches pluck and patience In adversity, and 
 shows that right living leads to success." Observer. 
 
 The Young Colonists: A Story of Life and War in 
 
 South Africa. By G. A. HENTY. With illustrations. 12mo, cloth, olivine 
 
 edges, price $1.00. 
 
 "No boy needs to have any story of Henty's recommended to him. and 
 parents who do not know and buy them for their boys should be ashamed 
 of themselves. Those to whom he is .vet unknown could not make a 
 better beginning than with this book. 
 
 The Young Buglers. A Tale of the Peninsular War. 
 
 By G. A. HENTY. With illustrations. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1. 
 
 "Mr. Henty is a giant among boys* writers, and his books are suffi- 
 ciently popular to he sure of a welcome anywhere. In stirring interest, 
 this is quite up to the level of Mr. Henty's former historical tales."- 
 Saturday Review. 
 
 Sturdy and Strong; or, How George Andrews Made his 
 
 Way. By G. A. HENTY. With illustrations. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, 
 
 price f 1. 00. 
 
 "The history of a hero of everyday life, whose love of truth, clothing of 
 modesty, and innate pluck, carry him. naturally, from poverty to afflu- 
 ence. George Andrews is an example of character with nothing to cavil 
 at, and stands as a good instance of chivalry in domestic life." The 
 Empire. 
 
 Among Malay Pirates. A Story of Adventure and 
 
 Peril. By G. A. HENTY. With illustrations. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges. 
 
 price $1.00. 
 
 "Incident succeeds Incident, and adventure Is piled upon adventure, 
 and at the end the reader, be he boy or man, will have experienced 
 breathless enjoyment In a romantic story that must have tauglr him 
 much at its close." Army and Navy Gazette. 
 
 Jack Archer. A Tale of the Crimea. BY G. A= 
 
 HENTY. With illustrations. 12mo. cloth, olivine edges, price $1.00. 
 
 "Mr. Henty not only concocts a thrilling tale, he weaves fact and fiction 
 together with so skillful a hand that the reader cannot help acquiring a 
 Just and clear view of that fierce and terrible struggle." Athenaeum. 
 
 For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the 
 publisher, A. L. BURT, 52-58 Duane Street, New York.
 
 A. L. BURT'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 15 
 
 BOOKS FOR BOYS. 
 
 Friends, Though Divided. A Tale of the Civil War. 
 
 By G. A. HENTY. With illustrations. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1. 
 "It has a good plot; it abounds in action; the scenes are equally spirited 
 and realistic, and we can only say we have read it with much pleasure 
 rom nrst to last. TirneSt 
 
 Out on the Pampas; or, The Young Settlers. By 
 
 G. A. HINTY. With illustrations. 12mo, cloth, oliviue edges, price $1.00. 
 "A really noble story, which adult readers will find to the full as satis- 
 
 rfen?y."-B h laokand White. ***'' ** SU h * Cat6rer " M '' G ' A< 
 
 The Boy Knight: A Tale of the Crusades. By G. A. 
 
 HENTY. With illustrations. 12mo, cloth, oliviue edges, price $1.00. 
 
 "Of stirring episode there Is no lack. The book, with its careful accu- 
 racy and its descriptions of all the chief battles, will give many a school- 
 boy his first real understanding of a very important period of history." 
 St. James's Gazette. 
 
 The Wreck of the Golden Fleece. The Story of a North 
 
 Sea Fisher Boy. By ROBERT LEIOHTON. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 
 
 A description of life on the wild North Sea, the hero being a parson's 
 son who is appreciated on board a Lowt-stoft fishing lugger. The lad has 
 to suffer many buffets from his shipmates, while the storms and dangers 
 which he braved on board the "North Star" :ire set forth with minute 
 knowledge anil inten.se power. The wreck of the "Golden Fleece" forms 
 the climax to a thrilling series of desperate mischances. 
 
 Olaf the Glorious. A Story of the Viking Age. By 
 
 ROBERT LEIGHTON. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1 .00. 
 
 This story of Olaf the Glorious, King of Norway, opens with the Incident 
 of his being found by his uncle living as a bond-slave In Esthonla: then 
 come his adventures ; is n Viking and his raids upon tin* coasts of Scot- 
 land and England, his victorious battle against the English at Maldou i.i 
 Essex, his being bought off by Ethelreil the I'nready, and his conversion 
 to Christianity. lie then returns to Pagan Norway, is accepted as king, 
 and converts his people to the Christian faith. 
 
 To Greenland and the Pole. A story of Adventure in 
 
 the Arctic Regions. By GORDON STABLES. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 
 
 The unfailing fascination of Arctic venturing Is presented in this story 
 with new vividness. It deals with skilolming in the north of Scotland, 
 ieer-hunting in Norway, sealing in the Arctic Seas, bear-stalkinsr on the 
 ice-floes, the hardships of a journey across Greenland, and a successful 
 voyage to the back of the North Pole. This is. Indeed, a real sea-yarn 
 by a real sailor, and the tone is as bright and wholesome as the adventures 
 are numerous. 
 
 Yussuf the Guide. A Story of Adventure in Asia 
 
 Minor. By GEORGE MANVIU.E FENN. ]2mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 This story deals with the stirring incidents in the career of a lad who has 
 been almost given over by the doctors, but who rapidly recovers health 
 and strength in n journey through .\si;i Minor. The adventures are many, 
 and culminate 1 the travellers being snowed up for the winter in the 
 mountains, from which they escape while their captors are waiting for 
 the ransom that does not come. 
 
 For sale by all booksell.-rx, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the 
 publisher, A.* L. BUHT 52-58 Duane Street, New York.
 
 16 A. L. BURT^S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 
 
 BOOKS FOR BOYS. 
 
 Grettir the Outlaw. A Story of Iceland. By S. BAR- 
 ING-GOULD. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "This is the boys' book of the year. That is. of course, as much as 
 to say that it will do for men grown as well as juniors. It is told in 
 simple, straightforward English, as all stories should be, and it has a 
 freshness and freedom which make it irresistible." National Observer. 
 
 Two Thousand Years Ago. The Adventures of a 
 
 Roman Boy. By A. J. CHURCH. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "Prof. Church has in this story sought to revivify that most interesting 
 period, the last days of the Roman Republic. The book is extremely en- 
 tertaining as well as useful: there is a wonderful freshness in the Roman 
 scenes and characters." Times. 
 
 Nat the Naturalist. A Boy's Adventure in the East- 
 ern Seas. By GEORGE MANVILLE FENN. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 
 Nat and his uncle Dick go on a voyage to the remoter islands of the 
 Eastern seas, and their adventures are told in a truthful and vastly in- 
 teresting fashion. The descriptions of Mr. Ebony, their black comrade, 
 and of the scenes of savage life, are full of genuine humor. 
 
 The Log of the Flying Fish. A Story of Peril and 
 
 Adventu'-e. By HARRY COLLINGWOOD. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 81. 
 
 "This story is full of even more vividly recounted adventures than those 
 Whicll charmed so many boy readers in 'Pirate Island' and 'Congo Rovers.' 
 . . . There is a thrilling adventure on the precipices of Mount Everest, 
 when the ship floats off and providentially returns by force of 'gravita- 
 tion.' " Academy. 
 
 The Congo Rovers. A Story of the Slave Squadron. 
 
 By HARRY COLLINGWOOD. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "The scene of this tale is laid on the west coast of Africa, and in the 
 lower reaches of the Congo; the characteristic scenery of the great river 
 being delineated with wonderful accuracy. Mr. Collingwood carries us off 
 for another cruise at sea, in 'The Congo Rovers,' and boys will need no 
 pressing to join the daring crew, which seeks adventures and meets with 
 any number of them." The Times. 
 
 Boris the Bear Hunter. A Tale of Peter the Great and 
 
 His Times. By FRED WISHAW. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00, 
 "This is a capital story. The characters are marked and lifelike, and it 
 is full of Incident and adventure." Standard. 
 
 Michael Strogoff ; or, The Courier of the Czar. By 
 
 JULES VERNE. I2mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "The story is full of originality and vigor. The characters are lifelike, 
 there is plenty of stirring incident, the interest is sustained throughout, 
 and every boy will enjoy following the fortunes of the hero." Journal of 
 Education. 
 
 Mother Carey's Chicken. Her Voyage to the Unknown 
 
 Isle. By GEORGE MANVIT.LE FFNN. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "Undoubtedly one of the best Mr. Fenn has written. The incidents are 
 of thrilling Interest, while the characters are drawn with a care and com- 
 pleteness rarely found in a boy's book." Literary World. 
 
 For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on roceipt of price by the 
 publisher, A. L. BUKT, 52-58 Duane Street, New York.
 
 A. L. HURT'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 17 
 
 BOOKS FOR BOYS. 
 
 Dick Sand; or, A Captain at Fifteen. By JULES 
 
 VERNE. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "Jules Verne himself never constructed a more marvellous tale. It con- 
 tains the strongly marked features that are always conspicuous In his 
 stories a racy humor, the manly vigor of his sentiment, and wholesome 
 moral lessons." Christian Leader. 
 
 Erling the Bold. A Talc of the Norse Sea Kings. 
 
 By R. M. BAI.LANTYNE. ISmo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "This volume makes a really fascinating hook, worthy of Its telling 
 title. There is, we venture to say, not a dull chapter in the book, not 
 a page which will not bear a second reading." Guardian. 
 
 Masterman Eeady; or, The Wreck of the Pacific. By 
 
 CAPTAIN MARRYAT. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "As racy a tale of life at sea and adventure as we have met with for 
 some time. . . . Altogether the sort of book that boys will revel in." 
 Athensum. 
 
 The Green Mountain Boys. A Tale of the Early Set- 
 tlement of Vermont. By D. P. THOMPSON. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1 
 A story of very great interest for boys. In his own forcible style the 
 author has endeavored to show that determination and patriotic enthu- 
 siasm can accomplish marvellous results. This story gives a graphic ac 
 count of the early settlers of Vermont, and their patriotic efforts in de- 
 fending their homes from the invasions of enemies. 
 
 Every Inch a Sailor. By GORDON STABLES. 12mo 
 
 cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "A story which is quite as good in its way as 'Treasure Island,' and Is 
 full of adventure of a stirring yet most natural kind. Although It is 
 primarily a boys' book, it is a real godsend to the elderly reader." 
 Evening Times. 
 
 The Golden Galleon. A Narrative of Adventure on 
 
 Her Majesty's Ship the Revenge. By ROBERT LEIGHTOX. 12mo, cloth, 
 
 illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "Tliis story should add considerably to Mr. Lelghton's high reputation. 
 Excellent in every respect, it contains every variety of incident. The plot 
 is very cleverly devised, and the types of the North Sea sailors are 
 capital." The Times. 
 
 The Gorilla Hunters. A Tale of the Wilds of Africa. 
 
 By R. M. BALLAXTYNK. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "We conscientiously bellve that boys will find it capital reading. It Is 
 full of incident and mystery, and the mystery Is kept up to the last 
 moment. It is full of stirring adventure, daring and many escapes; and 
 it has a historical interest." Times. 
 
 Gascoyne the Sandalwood Trader. By R. M. BAL- 
 
 LANTYXE. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "One of the best stories of seafaring life and adventure which have 
 appeared 1'iis season. Kntertuining in the highest degree from beginning 
 to end, and full of adventure which is all the livelier for Its close con- 
 nection with history." Spectator. 
 
 For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the 
 publisher, A, L. BURT, 52-58 Duane Street, New York.
 
 18 A. L. BURT'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 
 
 BOOKS FOR BOYS. 
 
 Two Years Before the Mast. A Personal Narrative of 
 
 Life at Sea. By R. H. DANA, JR. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "One of the very best books for boys that we have seen for a long time: 
 Its author stands far in advance of any other writer for boys as a teller 
 of stories of the sea." The Standard. 
 
 The Young Rajah. A Story of Indian Life. By W. 
 
 H. G. KINGSTON. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 
 
 "This story will place the author at once In the front rank. It Is full 
 of life and adventure, and the interest Is sustained without a break from 
 first to last." Standard. 
 
 How Jack Mackenzie Won His Epaulettes. A Story 
 
 of the Crimean War. By GORDON STABLES. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, 
 
 price $1.00. 
 
 "This must rank among the few undeniably good boys' books. He 
 will be a very dull boy indeed who lays It down without wishing that 
 it had gone on for at least 100 pages more." Mail. 
 
 The King's Pardon. A Story of Land and Sea. By 
 
 ROBERT OVERTON. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "An excellent story, the interest being sustained from first to last. 
 This is, both in its intention and the way the story is told, one of the 
 best books of its kind which has come before us this year." Saturday 
 Review. 
 
 Tinder the Lone Star. A Story of the Eevolution in 
 
 Nicaragua. By HERBERT HAYNES. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 1.00. 
 
 "We have not of late come across a historical fiction, whether intended 
 for boys or for men, which deserves to be so heartily and unreservedly 
 praised as regards plot, incidents, and spirit as this book. It is its au- 
 thor's masterpiece as yet." Spectator. 
 
 Geoff and Jim: A Story of School Life. By 
 
 THORN. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 "This Is a prettily told story of the life spent by two motherless bairns 
 at a small preparatory school. Both Geoff and Jim are very lovable char- 
 acters, only Jim is the more so; and the scrapes he gets into and the 
 trials he endures will, no doubt, interest a large circle of young readers." 
 Church Times. 
 
 Jack: A Topsy Turvy Story. By C. M. CRAWLEY- 
 
 BOEVEY. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 "The illustrations deserve particular mention, as they add largely to 
 the interest of this amusing volume for children. Jack falls asleep with 
 his mind full of the subject of the fishpond, and is very much surprised 
 presently to find himself an inhabitant of Waterworld, where he goes 
 through wonderful and edifying adventures. A handsome and pleasant 
 book." Literary World. 
 
 Black Beauty. The Autobiography of a Horse. By 
 
 ANNA SEWELL. l2mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 This is the life story of a horse; how he was ill treated and well 
 cared for. The experiences of Black Beauty, Ginger, and Merrylegs are 
 extremely interesting. Wherever children are, whether boys or girls, there 
 this Autobiography should be. It Inculcates liahits of kindness to all mem- 
 bers of the animal creation. The literary merit of the book is excellent. 
 
 For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the 
 publisher, A. L, HURT, 52-58 Duane Street, New York.
 
 A. L. KURT'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 19 
 
 BOOKS FOR BOYS. 
 
 Mopsa the Fairy. By JEAN IXGELOW. 12mo, ciotn, 
 
 illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 "Mrs. Ingelow is, to our mind, the most charming of all living writers 
 for children, and 'Mopsa' alone ought to give her a kind of pre-emptive 
 right to the love and gratitude of our young folks. It requires genius 
 to conceive a purely imaginary work which must of necessity di-al with 
 the supernatural, without running into a mere riot of fantastic absurdity; 
 but genius Mrs. Ingelow has, and the story of 'Jack' is as careless and 
 joyous, but as delicate as a picture of childhood." Eclectic. 
 
 Carrots: Just a Little Boy. By Mus. MOLESWORTH. 
 
 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 "One of the cleverest and most pleasing stories It has been our good 
 fortune to meet with for some time. Carrots and his sister are delight- 
 ful little beings, whom to read about Is at once to become very fund of. 
 A genuine children's book; we've seen 'em seize It, and read it greedily. 
 Children are first-rate critics, and thoroughly appreciate Walter Crane's 
 illustrations." Punch. 
 
 Larry's Luck. By the author of "Miss Toosey's Mis- 
 sion. 1 " 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 "It Is believed that this story, by this favorably known author of 
 'Miss Toosey's Mission,' will be found both highly Interesting anil instruc- 
 tive to the young. Whether the readers are nine years old, or twice as 
 old, they must enjoy tliis pretty volume." The Examiner, 
 
 A Child's Christmas: A Sketch of Boy Life. By MRS. 
 
 MOLESWORTH. ISino, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 "This is another of those delightful juvenile stories of which this author 
 has written so many. It is a fascinating little book, with a charming 
 plot, a sweet, pure atmosphere, and teaches a wholesome moral in tin- 
 most winning manner." Gazette. 
 
 Chunk, Fusky and Snout. A Story of Wild Pigs for 
 
 Little People. By GEHAI.D YOUNG. 12m<>. di.th illustruti-M. pi'k-e . 
 "The story is an extremely interesting one, full of Incident, told In a 
 quiet, healthful way, and with a great deal of pleasantly interfused 
 Information about wild pigs and their ways. It Is sure to Interest both 
 -boys and girls." Christian Union. 
 
 Daddy's Boy. By L. T. MEADE. 12mo, cloth, illus- 
 trated, price 75 cents. 
 
 "A charming story of child life. Little Sir Rowland is one of the 
 most fascinating of the misunderstood child heroes of the day. The quaint 
 doings and Imaginings of this gentle. Lovable, but highly original child are 
 Introduced by Mrs. Meade, with all her accustomed pathos. ' Guardian. 
 
 Adventures of Prince Prigio. BY ANDREW LANG. 
 
 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cc 
 
 "Thu boc.k has so much charm of style and pood writing that It will be 
 eagerly read by many other than the young folk for whom It Is Intended. 
 Black and White. 
 
 A Flock of Four. A Story for Boys and Girls. By 
 
 ISMAV THORN. 12mo, cloth, illustrator!, price 75 cents. 
 
 "As n gift book for boys It Is among the l>est new hooks of the kind. 
 The story is interesting and natural, from first to last." Gazette. 
 
 For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the 
 publisher, A. L. BUKT, 58-58 Duane Street, New York.
 
 20 A. L. HURT'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 
 BOOKS FOR BOYS. 
 
 A Flat Iron for 
 
 The Story of an Only 
 
 . 
 
 Son. By JULIANA HORATIA EWING. 12mo. cloth, illustrated, price 75 cent 
 
 "A WAITT tv/\r\rt >irtrb- if 1o -Pull f*f a H\7on tnfo <rra r>il/i 11 v tr\]r\ T^Vid el-Tr 
 
 The Greek Heroes. Fairy Tales for My Children. 
 
 CHARLES KINGSLEY. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 "We do not think these heroic stories have ever been more attractively 
 told. . . There is a deep under-current of religious feeling traceable 
 throughout its pages which is sure to influence young readers power- 
 fully. One of the children's books that will surely become a classic/' 
 London Review. 
 
 Jackanapes. BY JULIANA HORATIA EWING. 12mo, 
 
 cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 "This is one of Mrs. Ewing's charming little stories for young children. 
 The narrative ... Is full of Interest for its real grace and delicacy, 
 and the exquisiteness and purity of the English in which it is written." 
 Boston Advertiser. 
 
 Princess and Curdie. By GEORGE MACDONALD. 12mo, 
 
 cloth, illustrated, price 75 ceuts. 
 
 "One of the cleverest and most pleasing stories it has been our good 
 fortune to meet with for some time. The Princess and Curdie are delight- 
 ful little beings, whom to read about is at once to become very fond of." 
 Examiner. 
 
 Peter the Pilgrim. The Story of a Boy and His Pet 
 
 Rabbit. By L. T. MEADE. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents, 
 "Little Peter, with his soft heart, clever head, and brave spirit is no 
 morbid presentment of the angelic child 'too good to live,' and who Is 
 certainly a nuisance on earth, but a charming creature, if not a por- 
 trait, whom It is a privilege to meet even in fiction." The Academy. 
 
 We and the World. A Story for Boys. By JULIANA 
 
 HORATIA EWING. 12rno, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 "The author has evidently studied the ways and tastes of children and 
 got at the secret of amusing them; and has succeeded in what is not 
 so easy a task as it may seem in producing a really good children's 
 book." Daily Telegraph. 
 
 Little Ivan's Hero. A Story of Child Life. By 
 
 HELEN MILMAN. ]2mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 "We should Imagine those queer folk indeed who could not read this 
 story with eager interest and pleasure, be they boys or girls, young or 
 old. We highly commend the style in which the book is written, and the 
 spirit which pervades it." World. 
 
 Dick, Marjorie and Fidge. The Wonderful Adventures 
 
 of Three Little People. By G. E. FARROW. 12mo, cloth, illust'd. price 75c. 
 
 "... To the young, for whom' It is especially intended, this is a 
 most interesting book of adventures, well told, and a pleasant book to 
 take up when their wish is to while away a weary half-hour. We have 
 seen no prettier gift-book for a long time." Athenaeum. 
 
 For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the 
 publisher, A. L. BVRT, 68-58 Duane Street, New York.
 
 A 000127128 7