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Newspaper Page Text
ART FOR ART'S SAKE
By George Munson.
"It was some three years since I'd
visited Sister Emma,"her living in
York state and me in Ohio, but when
she writ me to come and spend the
month of March, because she had
something important to say to me,
my natural curiosity overcome me,
and I packed my trunk and went.
" 'Where's Cynthy?' I asked, soon
as I had kissed Emma and John.
" 'That's what I writ you to come
"Had a Party That Afternoon."
about, Lidy,' says Emma. 'She won't
" 'But you writ me she had gone to
Vew York to study art, and was com
'ug home on Washington's birthday,'
I answered. 'And how about that
young man of hers, Fred Holden?'
"Then the truth came out. Cynthy
had writ she wasn't coming home for
a long time to come and she intimat
ed if Fred liked to wait for her he
could wait and if he didn't he needn't.
She had an attack of art badly and
was living in a hall bedroom in New
York and doing her own laundry,
which is what art brings one to. And
Emma, knowing how I'd always had a
powerful influence over Cynthy,
wanted me to go to New York and
bring her home.
" 'How about Fred?' I asked.
"Fred just mooned around. town
and didn't speak to anyone. I gath
ered there had been some sort of
quarrel, so I thought it best to say
nothing but to go to New York as
soon as possible. And a couple of
mornings later I was knocking at
Cynthy's door on the top floor of a
filthy dark tenement place near
" 'Come in,' said Cynthy. 'Why,
Aunt Lidy, whatever brung you
" 'I'll tell you later, Cynthy,' says
I. .'Meanwhile, have you got a bite
of lunch for me?'
" 'Cynthy made tea over the gas
and we ate sausage sandwiches to
gether, Cynthy looking at me.
curious-like all the while.
" 'I sure do love sausage sand
wiches, especially them forrin kinds,'
says I, and I see a look in Cynthy's
eyes that told me I had got home. I
forgot to say that the tiny room was
all fixed up with hangings and sofa
pillows, and the walls was plastered
with Cynthy's pictures. '
'"Sold any of 'em, my dear?' I
" 'Not yet, auntie,' says Cynthy,
'but I expect to soon. The public
isn't educated in art matters, you
know. If I chose to give them what
they wanted I could, sell them all.
Now what brings you here, Aunt
" 'I'm tired of the humdrum of
domestick life,' I told her. 'Your
Uncle Abe gets on my nerves. I want
to live my own life and obey the im
pulses of my soul. That's why I
come to you.'
"Cynthy btared at me as if I va3