United States -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
"Well, that's good," replied the railroad king, heartily. "You'll need
a retaining fee, I suppose, like lawyers do; and you put your best
work on the two pictures and remember what they mean to _me_, and put
the spirit of home into them. It's my home you're painting, do you
understand? I think you do. That's why I asked you instead of asking
any of the others. Now, you know how I feel about it, and you put the
feeling into the picture; and as to the price, you ask whatever you
please, and you live at my houses and at my expense until the work is
done. If I don't see you again," he said, as he laid a check down on
the table among the brushes and paint tubes and cigars, "I will wish
you a merry Christmas." Then he hurried out and banged the door behind
him and escaped their thanks, and left them alone together.
The pictures of Breton life and landscape were exhibited a year later
in Paris, and in the winter in New York, and, as they bore the
significant numerals of the Salon on the frame, they were immediately
appreciated, and many people asked the price. But the attendant said
they were already sold to Mr. Cole, the railroad king, who had
purchased also the great artistic success of the exhibition--an old
farm-house with a wintry landscape, and the word "Home" printed
beneath it.
ANDY M'GEE'S CHORUS GIRL
Andy M'Gee was a fireman, and was detailed every evening to theatre
duty at the Grand Opera House, where the Ada Howard Burlesque and
Comic Opera Company was playing "Pocahontas." He had nothing to do but
to stand in the first entrance and watch the border lights and see
that the stand lights in the wings did not set fire to the canvas. He
was a quiet, shy young man, very strong-looking and with a handsome
boyish face. Miss Agnes Carroll was the third girl from the right in
the first semi-circle of amazons, and very beautiful. By rights she
should have been on the end, but she was so proud and haughty that she
would smile but seldom, and never at the men in front. Brady, the
stage manager, who was also the second comedian, said that a girl on
the end should at least look as though she were enjoying herself, and
though he did not expect her to talk across the footlights, she might
at least look over them once in a while, just to show there was no ill
feeling. Miss Carroll did not agree with him in this, and so she was
relegated to the third place, and another girl who was more
interested in the audience and less in the play took her position.
When Miss Carroll was not on the stage she used to sit on the carpeted
steps of the throne, which were not in use after the opening scene,
and read novels by the Duchess, or knit on a pair of blue woollen
wristlets, which she kept wrapped up in a towel and gave to the
wardrobe woman to hold when she went on. One night there was a quicker
call than usual, owing to Ada Howard's failing to get her usual encore
for her waltz song, and Brady hurried them. The wardrobe woman was not
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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