THE BLOSSOMY GIRL.

Alexandra Herald and Central Otago Gazette, Issue 426, 9 June 1904, Page 7

THE BLOSSOMY GIRL.

By JLiillian Quiller.

SHORT STORY.

It's good! I don't care what the whole Academy of Art* eays, it's good!' John Lisnell brought his hand forward over his Bhoit curly hair; the veins stood out on the back of the hand, and it shook. The room was an attic, that was undeniable, but it was artistic in a plain way, and sufficiently tidy to be comfortable. There was a good top-light at the end of the room where Linn«ll stood before his easel; at the other end the sun shone in through a big dormer window. Down below waa an old garden where trees blossomed. Linneil turned at length, walked to the window, looked down absently on a whiteblossomed pear-tree fluttering an occasional petal to the turf beneath, and drew some money from his pocket In the aggegate it was not much to boast of as a Bum. In truth, at the moment John Linneil could command the world to the extent cf fourteen shillings and sevenpence ; but that was not extent sufficient for a really suitable frame for a future Academy picture, with a margin for current expenses. Looking at the coins, Linneil twisted his mouth at the left corner and screwed his left eye. Then he waited back to his picture and looked at it with an expression of wondering approval, ' I'll go and bully old Turner,' he decided. 'My «gem' must have its chance.' Ambrose Turner wa3 forty-eight years of age, the possessor of an established reputation as a man and a painter; also, he was a good-natured friend, and about ten years younger than his age. He was reading a novel in his small, walled garden and smoking his favourite pipe when John Linneil appeared j therefore he was in a mood of placid contentment, ready to tolerate the affirmations of any confident young artist. 'WellF' he asked, lazily, as he looked up towards the figure crossing the toy lawn. ' Well I' taid Linneil, seating himself on the grass and clasping his knees, «I've :crae to eay that I've finished a masterpiece.' •Hah,' breathed -the other slowly, 'and la it a bilious Venus P or a drawn-through-the-keyhole mermaid f or a——' ' How little knowledge hath this man 1' said Linneil, addressing the skies* ' Perhaps it's a • Cbild and Kitten '' 'Kitten yourself, you flaxen-headed cynic. No, didn't you know that I cast off all that when I shed my milk teeth—or thereabouts.' ' Perhaps, then' with an elaborate show of patience 'you'll tell me what it is.' 'I wiiL ' It's a piece of sky, real sky, real clouds, and these real clouda produce real things I know because I've seen them. When, after all that roving, I went back those months to my own county, what I had taken in as a boy came back to me. The rest was false. I lay on my back in the fields and I saw real clouds, and out of the clouds came forms, and aa the forms became more distinct they were alive, and they did real, be'auti- . ful things. There, laugh, if you like 1' 'You know you'd get mad if I did 1 WeHf 'Well. I didn't talk about it fall I* sort of worked out my own salvation; but I had no further dealings with Venus and mermaids. Venus is a beautiful woman, but I can't make her so; while aa for my clouds and cloud people I Ton may scoff, but I'm a PAINTEB 5 and now I've told you my style you know what that mease.' 'ffm! Watteau, KauffmasnP' 'l've just finished a bit of painting, and if a to go to the Academy.' •I like that tone of assurance,' said Turner, drily. 'And how many yards of Burlington House roof do you propose to decorateP 'lt's three feet by two. I measured because I want you to pay for ita frame.' 'The dickens you do! Why?' ' Because fourteen shillings and eevenpence is insufficient wherewith to buy a pleasing frame, and go through a London season; and my 'house property' brings me no more till midsummer. I vowed I wouldn't have a penny allowance from the estate till I had eatablished a reputation. I said I wouldn't when they railed at me for taking to the. paint-pot, and I won't' 'Bight And what's the blessed subfeet P What comes out of the clouds this time f 'Just Spring, and eupids scattering flowers. Angelica Kauffman may be recalled to you when you look at it; but I've done it better than any one else. You ean see—you can feel the sun coming through.* 'That's right old ohap; that's the right spirit to-storm the Academicians. - I'll come to-morrow. If you've told the truth you shall have fifty pounds till quarter day.' * •Thanks/ 'said LinnalL 'you're the. patron of art, friend of the struggling genius; and when my just deserts arrive you shall paint me in Academician robes, and I'll work youc revered face into my brat cherub.* Loudon waa beautiful on the day when Linneil went fox the second fame that month, to the Academy. . Every blackstemmed trie waa'a beauty in tender green; every bush that could blossom seemed bent on decorating the world; the flower backets at Piccadilly fountain seemed a girdle of scented-colour; and the sun who shines as a laughing boy in May, seemed to cast down youth in every ray. The earlier day when Linneil came to the Academy show, the crowd had been dense, the babel of .tongues distracting; he saw that hia work was skied, and be turned and fought hia way out again with irritation and a headache. On this second visit his. temper was more normal, the shining day had pleased his sense of colour, on his way up the staircase he .saw a charming face that made him. think of spring, and honesty, and blossoms, and added to this, when he reached the corner where his' gem' was hung he was struck by the intelligence and perspicacity of the Hanging Committee. It was early yet; the rooms were not crowded, and Linneil wandered round, mentally awarding praise or contempt for Borne time before returning to his own . —corner. His picture was attracting atand he stood back a little and " fwked at it: forgetting the people about him, lost in thought and self-questioning. The ' slap' of a catalogue on the ground ronaid half of hia attention; instinctively he picked it up to hand to its owner. It pleased him vaguely to see that this owner waa the 'blossomy girl' he had seen on the staircase; Bhe took the book with a grave smile and a word of thanks before her eyes returned to the picture—his picture—at which she had been looking. 'lt was right to sky if he remarked thoughtfully, as he noticed the direction of her eyes. 'Yes,' she arid with a little air of reserve. « it gains an overhead effect' She slightly bowed an assent and moved on to anotner picture- No one looking at Linneil could suspect him of impertinence,

his well-bred appearance, manner, and the absent tone in which he had Bpoken would have exonerated him in almost anyone a opinion. But the girl's quiet withdrawal roueed him from his reverie. 'Jove! that was a fairish thing to do,' he thought. 'I had a queer impreßßion I knew her.' Instinctively hia eyes followed her, and liked what they saw. ' A blossomy girl in blue,* be repeated, as he moved slowly in her direction. When, later on, Linneil came near the 'blossomy girl' again, she vas with a group of friends, and he discovered without difficulty who Bhe was. A middle-aged man ib the group laid his hand oa the girl's arm, and Linneil caught Bnatches of the conversation—

•We've taken it, a really beautiful old shell of a house. It's just out of Meddicote. called Medmead. Anne and I will make it our real home—want a deal of doing up.' Then in anßwer to a question —'No, I don't want to introduce town workmen—like to employ the natives if they'll only obey—Oh, not till Augustmuch to be done.' These snatches ecareely entered Linnell's brain it seemed at the time, though he remembered them later. What he did rea!i*e va? that this girl, who seemed to draw him to her, was the dtughter of Sir Walter Tottenham, the. art critic. He moved on-thinking he almost wished she had been a dairymaid. ' Let me help you!' Linneil spoke impulsively, yet peremptorily, and, with hie shoulder, mar ceurred an agrees through the moving crowd and drew the ' blossomy girl,' now pale and ratber faint, into a slacker corner. It was Borne considerable time since he asd she had come up the stairs,' n the morning, and absorbed as she hf- M been by the oaintings, now with friends, again wandering oS by herself, she had failed to notice the increased crowd, till, a little over-weary with long standing and faint from want of food, she turned and saw that the room waa a packed mass of sightseers. The crowd closed up about her, heedless, eager, determined, and unexpectedly Anne Tottenham felt an inability to battle through, notified feeling; her lips whitened and distress filled her eyes. Linneil saw this, for Linneil had been not far from her since they stood together beneath his picture Next to that picture ' Bhe had seemed the most interesting object there; now he found that she outrivalled that great work. Hia clouds were forgotten for reality. •Come into the sculpture room,' he said, quietly. And she followed him unqueßtionihgly. «There ia less crowd here,' he continued in an easy, matter-of-fact way, belying hiß quickening pulse,' it is the compliment the public pays its Eculptore—leaves.a peaceful spot!).' he real admirers.' ' This is better,' she said, em ling and drawing a deep breath. ' I felt suddenly faint' 'I happened to Eee that/ he said, quietly. 'lf you will rest here, I will get you some—' • Water, please,' When he returned with water, the colour was creeping into her cheeks again. 'I shall be able to go and find my friends,' she said,' when I have had this. Thank you very much.' He sat by her on the lounge for a few minutea as she dtank, but they did not speak. To both of them commonplace topics seemed impossible. When she handed back the glass he leaned forward and spoke solemnly with his eyes on the ground. . ' Something,' he said,' drew me to you. I had seen you before—lookiHg up at the picture—my picture—the cupids and roses. You seemed part of it—and so, part of my own. I shall never forget it' There was no insolence in the words, only a sort of slow cogitation. Then he rose and bowed and left her. The •blossomy girl' was trembling, and rather frightened, and glad, When Sir Walter came looking for his daughter she did not tell him of her faintness, but told him instead of a picture she wanted, and took him to it. And Sir Walter who went to laugh, remained to wonder, and re-consulted Ms

catalogue. When Linneil had thought toe much of Anne Tottenham for three whole days, he went, and in a sort of bye-the way manner,, told something of that Academy day's doings to Turner. -But Turner was not taken in by the nonchalance. 'I knew little Annie Tottenham,' he said seriously • —have known her all her life. No one who cares to shake hands with me> must go fooling found her heart.' ' Who wants to go fooling round her heart ?' '■ demanded Linneil, not really sorry that Turner had seen deeper than he intended. Turner looked at the handsome, powerful face—a dangerously irresistible face for a susceptible girl to confront. 'lt seems to me rather like fooling,' he remarked more carelessly, • when a man approaches iJiat heart, armed only with fourteen and sevenpenoe. Ido not undervalue his intention s, remember.' ' Armed/ Linneil ocrreoted/ with fifty pounds, fourteen and sevenpence—through: the 'kindness of his good friend.' Turner shook his fist; but Linneil remaiapd Sflrinns. *'ArmaA. f/tn.' Via oin.

tinned,' when all is said and-done, with an heirship which is safe, though the heir cuts himself from present pecuniary advantages. Armed, too,' he added rather fiercely, 'with that inside him which is worth all the heirships in the world.' 'Your heirship/ remarked Turner, lightly, 'for all practical purposes is about as useful as an air ship—or an air castle. As to the other valuable—do you refer to your very excellent heart, or your very excellent .head ?' ' My head shall win my heart's fortune,' Linnell said, rising to leave. 'No fooling with Anne Tottenham's heart, though,' commanded Turner, 'Go ito the—Academy!' ejaculated Lianell.- Then he stood a moment. 'lf I had any ambition with regard to Miss Tottenham,' he said, earnestly, ' you may take my word I should 'fool' no more than you would. As for my right to have ambitions—and succeed in them, I'll not yield that to anybody. Now I'm going home to think,, and scheme, and, incidentally, do some Toa must admit my clouds have brought me pleasant Bucceas.' •Tour cloudß are right enough, you villain; only don't lure my pet friends to live in castles in them until they have proper foundations.' | ! 'You Bball come with a little hammer and teat them fitßt,' agreed Linnell. • Then he went off cheerfully to think. 1 Down in Meddicote an inspired towns--1 man of a past generation had planted labumumß on eitner side of the steep, Btraggling main street at generous interval*, and'the golden tassels were iH , glorious bloom, swaying in the soft air, * when Sir Walter Tottenham, escaping ■ from town for a day, came down to inspect '• bis ' shell of a house' and set workmen to

prepare it for his August occupation. In Med dicote there was one painter and gUzier. Other trades had mostly two representatives; but one Thomas Welkin w»8 found to be sufficient If Welkin were to quarrel with his fifteen-jear-old bod at some f ature date there would certainly be two painting and glazing eestabbailments, for no Meddicotian ever thought of leaving Meddioote. Bat Welkin was no q;aar roller, and Silas Welkin was too young and dull, as yet, to scheme enfcerpriaingduels. Therefore, when Sir Walter wvlked down the golden-edged street from his beautiful empty house, he walked unhesitatingly into Welkin'B shop, and Welkin was proud though frightened. When an art critic, with 'views,'sets about house decoration, the man who takes orders needs presence of mind and power of concentration, Welkin lacked something of this. He listened to the great man's talk, and vague, beautiful pictures floated before his imaginationcolour schemes wobbled before his mind's eye, land perspiration stood freely upon him; but he could not think, Sir Walter talked on, and propounded ideas for walls, ceilings, floors. Did Welkin understand P ' A y, ay,* gasped Welkin A pride in the fact that he himself had been selected, before all the power of London, for this job, nerved him to articulation; and the very widenees of his mental vision at the moment made his expression more weighty than usual. Sir Walter wen pleased. Now and again, as the great man paused, Welkin with the instinct of the drowning man clung to his huge pencil and jotted down an actual, practical detail; and bye-and-bye habit was sufficiently strong to wring out his usual formula,« Much obliged, Sir; all shall be attended to without delay,' But the mind of Welkin was chaos. Sir Walter, however, valuing above all things obedience and no opposition, walked away satisfied to the ' Garland Ox,' where the old hanging sign was beiEg repainted, and where, after a critical lock at the work, he went in and ordered a cuUet and a bottle of wine. We; kin, on the contrary, ordered nothing, not even Silas. He sat down heavily before his counter, glowing with a pleasure which was pain, dazed by the variegated visions just fading, and faced by the pencilled notes which remained, (To be concluded next week)