THE KITTEN'S FAULT

North Otago Times, 17 December 1904, Page 1 (Supplement)

THE KITTEN'S FAULT

V It vm tho killoji who began it, tho, ' Maltose kitten whoso name was Dot, 1 though it waa usually called by any en- I dealing name whioli oanw handy, It s ought not to have tired of the papor ball 1 lirovideit for it. nor gone oa a hour ot iwto tha. JMl 4 joj_thejiJn.to

[ GtfahM's studio, But the last m (Jro> ham's fault, .because ho had. nciglccled lo ' close tlio door when h wout'but, I Of course, Miss Mabol had to E got her pet, and 1 , of »duißo, ns'uic kivteu t would not coino at hoi' call, the only t way wins to go into tho studio alter it, | Sho found it after a considerable search , fiitting scieuriy bejioath the big chair un-' dai' the long studio window. With iho ■ Jsiiion safo in hor arms, she would have ■ gone- back to her .»idMTU[itct! work. Sho ■ U;d not, however, -*-■ vilw» listened to tiie • voice of the temper, who told her limit 1 Jnuropptuiiity ma coino at last, that [ having seen so much it waH no harm to 660 a little more, and that no one would [ know. She had wanted for a long time ' to know what Graham's studio was like, ami if it suited with liiin„p<i & nunte ol : pthor tilings. ••• It is the fii-sfc step Hint miuils. Prom a gonoial survey Miss lliwlings descended to a particular examination. She tin. toed; across the room, glanced at the book* aim Hispid tlio Japanese ivories in a cabinet on the wall, 'Hen having imbrued one fingor, us it wore,'and nothing 3 having happened, there seemed to bo n o ) roaspu diy slio should not dip in hur :' whole hand. Besides, if Graham would coino, slio had the kitten for excuse it was to tha kitten she talked as she wan- '_ neral about. I ."} io wouldn't care- at my koking alt his pictures, Kitty," eho confided, as slio , ruiniuegcd in a slack of canvases, "and i any way, if he doesn't want them looked i fS, 1 ;r d n^ l|(! l ,ut them lrit ' l *J»eir faces , tothowal ? He ought to know that that; would make anyone-am- one desire in see -tliotn. I wondai if they are rejected i piotuiffi, and if he hates to we them as ) l do that pile of rejected stories of mine Marlmiw that is why ho leaves them, wrong side out. lluui 'Spring Sccne'rathor good 1 should say. '.ltalian i' Ca6 . t ant Oirl-I don't think much oilier, Old man with pine, moonlight or sunrise ev something. Ju4 look at the dust behind them, 100. It's all over my skirt, it 1 would bo a. give-mvay if lie .should commonly I d say I got it Imnting for yon. | i)id you ever sec anything like this tabic , Dot? I wish 1 dared straighten it up. il o need;) sonic ono to keop things in ojtlnr • Bacuelors are so unitidy, which shows they i were never intended hy heaven to remain I bachelors, for ardor is heaven's lirst law , It must be Jjitc, though, to ieel übovj [ uuoyiug it.' K, ) She move.!! a'bjv.t the room a* slio talk. i oil, rfluilyma the sMclms on ,ho wall,, tasting tlio softness of the divan, feeling ' the texture of the tapestries, running h er 1 fingers along the niantol shell, and looking at it with mock horror. "It's just Hie kind of studio I thought'' hod have, JJotleU It's just like him. > big and sunny, and nut too many books . nor too many curios, nw cluttered up ; with furniture. I don't like a. finicky man, nor a booky wan, and ho isn't! oithor. I knew he wasn't, Is that tlio model s throne over there I wonder—tliat : , platform? It doesn't seem to have been used much, and yot ho's >bcen ■painting thw nipraiug. I'm: going to see what it' is. It s covered by a curtain, but-a peep' won t hurt anyone," Tho easel stood in the corner by «! tablo littered with half-squeezed tubes brushes, palettes and paint-rags, as if tho painter had thrown thorn down in a. aid* , don heat of exasperation r«tt (he inadequacy or limit ; . | Mabel drew tho ourtain from'the picture* , andithon sat down hastily on the paint-: i jng stool. It was her picture she was i looking at. Hen own, and yet not her' own.Wot that evory-klay, story-writing money-worried Mabel Hastings whom h-r Iqjkuuy-glaas reflected, buifc a, girl clad in isoine soft, exquisite, c!|iiiging Eastern .'fabric, reclining gracafully in a deep 1 chair of inlaid ivory. There wore jewels gleaming in tlio meshes of her coiled hair, and row upon row of pearls clasped tlnl delicately-curved throat. Her hands were. ' playing with tho rosed in hor lap, hor : eyes wero dreamy. [ "Now, tow did ho know, Katiuka thar; ; I eared for roses." said Mabel Vheia 1 ; alter a fow minutes of surprise she set-.' tied herself In critical delight, chin in/ ' hand, beforo tho picture, "and such roses 1 -dream rososl-just opening to the Juno* : air. How did he know-if Jt is me? I' ' supposo it isn't me really, but I liko to' i think it is—and indeed' it looks like me.j :' or as 1 iing'kt look if 1 had beautiful ; i tluiifis and dwelt in a, fairy palace, Only; I I'm, afraid, Kit, that I'm not half uapretty as that girl. She hadn't any bother rtbout making her puree fit her uecessit-' ties, nor trying to make stories end nicely. I don't think she writes at all, that' no ink on her fingera. And yet I just kiww how it is, and I'm rather; glad-only, of course, it's horribly impertinent of him, you can't know how impertinent. ■' ') ; "Aiid the pearls? Hid ho put then* round my neck for ©fleet, or to show how well he could paint the.ni:? Maybe-' maybe ho wanted just to give them to mo It was very extravagant of him, kit. I'm; sure ho can't all'ord thorn, and of cotirso I can't accept thorn. I'll have to say I'm. greatly obliged, but I couldn't tliir\of accenting theni-only I'd like to. v •Then, to, there's nothing I could'give • him ill return-nt least nothing IhM can't make hinr any nicer than: he is, and 1 so in our stories I put him; in' just as I see'him-oul; ■'•oinefimes he'sl 1 rich and sometimes .poor', 1 and sometimes, a soldier and sometimes an artist, ij i don't ki<o\v why he will insist on getting ' into my .stories, but ha does. That's all * I can do for him, Fuzzikins, and that , ■isn't much, for they often reject him.. ' The editors, being crusty and ca.ntaukjr- } nus, and homely old bachelors, are prob- j ;nl>ly jealous. If—Jf I wore a.n editor, Katinka, and he should come for my acceptance, I don't think I'd rejdot him—only ' ■ I'm not an editoi' and so he'll nevur know. "Do you suppose-ne painted mo becauso j ho wanted to—beciuuio ho liked me, and! i wanted me lo liavu 'beautiful Ihiug.M, or 'just to malie a piefmv thai would sell? : lie needs me to sit for liinu, though. That , mouth is not iniiilc right—and. the cye.s—" ( "That's what'H liolhoring me, the eyes," ( fiiid a voice. "I knew they were not righl, bill J'vo had bo Jittlo chance to observe—" Mabel jumpeili. and felt the blood surg- I ing up iiiilo hor face. Graham was stand- ( .ing by rue easel, smiling down at hur. i "I—l canii) alter my oat," she faid con- ] tally. "It cHiinci in here, and I liittl to ( got it. You left your door open, you 1 know, and—'' Mfcs Jlaslings rallied her ' loii'wi fur a defensive atliick-'aud (lieu c I saw Ibis pictuiro-a ipiofum of imi." c "1 thought 1 left it covered," staid Crra- i ham, t She deigned no answer* "Isn't it usual ( to ask the sitter's pormiHsion tefore painting them?" slio asked coldly. ' "How do you know it i.l you?" ' "Why— anyoiio can. see it is. It's hardly \ brave of you to try to get out of it ' thaitway. If s just like nte" f "It is a beautiful face." ! "I didn't moan, that," slio cried, hotly, ,"and if it is you had no right to make mo j beautiful, nor to give mo those things- c or in paint me at all." i "1 suppose I hadn't." Graham, reached , about foi' a palette knife and found it. ] "What are you going to do?" asked ( Mabel, faintly. ; E "Destroy it—or rather lot you, for I i 'can't. You seo, my whole heart and skill j have gone into it. All my dreams and i 'hopes and idcals-and I can't." Ho hand- '• ed the knife to her. Slio took it, But did not uso it, "I don't know how," she said., "and I don't think I want to. Can't I have it? It's my picture." "Tho mouth is wrong, you saidl, a.nd tho oyes. I couldn't kit anything wrong go out." '•You might correct it," 'llHvoii'ld take a life time." "I don't think I'd mind so very much if it did;" whispered. Miss Mabel Hastings, "not cven)ii"ittook forever." •It was <pme..miinitcs.lator that MaheJ ' thousht. to look for the Maltese kitten, which had somehow tumbled to the floor "When you retouch tho picture, NedNed, dear," she said, "couldn't you put i Upt jn'somewhere? I tliiuie Dotlcts do- i serves a reward, don't you?" And Gra, ; ham agreed.' t