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RMHilllilUJlliU JUIJ4JI UJUUIAHHHSKl!
HlWWPIi W?WiffiWW!y,,''P,ir maw'-'-'"'
to see his picture on exhibition it
would at least signalize artistic rec
ognition. But now the gloomy future seem
ed to express one practical word
Bread! The coffers were empty.
With the morning there must be food
for Nash, the room rent must be paid.
Tap! tap! tap!
Daintily as at the touch of a veri
table fairy the gentle but peremptory
summons sounded. Ranald went to
the door, and opened it. He passed
his hand over his eyes then, dazzled
at the lovely visitant
"It's only me, Mr. Stone," spoke
notes of liquid sweetness. "You re
member me at the art institute? 1
have a .room and studio on the next
floor. I was directed here because
the drawing professor said this was
the abode of true genius and among
its denizens I would get the real art
atmosphere. Oh, dear!"
The ingenuous little lady stood
gazing raptly at the picture between
the windows. The tears came to the
eyes of the artist. It was homage so
soulful, so refreshing to his tited
"Thank you," he said huskily.
"And will you do me a great favpr,
Mr. Stone?" pleaded Miss Ethel War
ner. "It will take only a few mo
ments. In my studio. Just to show
me how to mix some colors."
"Certainly, with pleasure," re
sponded Ranald, and he tried to hide
the ragged sleeve of his worn coat.
The light, the comfort, the luxury
of the little palace of a studio into
which Miss Warner ushered Ranald
and introduced him to her chaperone,
her aunt, formed a marked contrast
to the bleak den he had just left. The
fascination of the soulful girl artist,
however, made him obliging, even
ardent in-awarding the assistance she
required. Upon a stand stood her
model: a server, a loaf of bread, part
of a cake, some flowers, a composite
for a test piece as to coloring.
"I can't get the shade of that
bread any more than could I bake it,"
laughed Ethel merrily, and then when
Ranald had -shown her how to pro
duce the effect desired, she looked
up into his eyes with a gratitude that
The influence of that lovely face re
mained with him as he sat in his
studio later thinking of the bright
ness his life knew little of. Then from
the alcove, weak and querulous
"Ranald, old man, I'm hungry; I'm
so hungry I can't sleep."
The words went through the
mighty heart, of the artist like a
knife. He glanced from the street
window at the brilliantly, lighted
shops. Money he had none, credit
was exhausted. Then he gave a great
start. , A suggestion had come to his
Dozing on a divan in her sitting
room off her studio, Ethel Saw the
door opened. "Burglars!" was her
first thought,, and then she recog
nized Ranald. She watched him in
amazement steal across the room,
seize the loaf of bread near her easel
"Why!" she gasped, arising to her
feet, "what does it mean?"
Ranald watched his sick friend at
tempt to assuage: the pangs of hun
ger with the 'dry bread. "
"Drop it!" lie ordered, hia voice a
sob. "I'll soon have the delicacies
you need." .
He darted one poignant glance at
his picture -as--he dashed from the
room. A girlish form passed into it
from the lurking shadows. Then at
the gide of the invalid she learned all
of the truth.
"I vill take it, yes," fell in sharp
nasal tones on the ears of two lis
teners as Ranald led Levi into his
studio. "Fifty toll "
"I will give a hundied!" cried Ethel,
appearing from the alcove.
The pawnbroker stared at her in
bewilderment. The artist fell weakly
to a chair.
"Is dis an auction?" insinuated
"If you like," replied Ethel, her
Mawjiiw-T!, jjgftn riMinKr-- - --'--