WON BY STRATEGY

New Zealand Times, Volume LXXV, Issue 5008, 4 July 1903, Page 2 (Supplement)

WON BY STRATEGY

“I am sick of this artificial atmosphere.” said Archie Gilfain. “sick of London, Bic-k of UlO Winter, and all the pomps and vanities of ihU wicked world. Henceforth X abjure them. I shall let my hair grow- aud become an artist.” Whereupon he finished his whisky-ainL ■soda and vanished from the world I hat knew him; my best umbrella vanished from the club at precisely tho same instant for which reason I regretted his departure.

Later it wag rumoured that he had hired a studio somewhere in Chelsea—a pluco, I aim told, infested by artists. I suppose that ho has also hired some paints and things, unless ho got them thrown in with the studio; and an adventurous spirit, given to roaming in the wilder parts of London, further reported that he had caught a glimpse of him, looking aggressively pleased with himself, but still clean. After which all interest in Archie Gilfain, Mg doings and whereabouts. ceased.

Curiously enough, just about this same time littlo Dolly Cranford developed a uow craze. As the beauty of the season, par* excellence she "bad. naturally enough, been photographed in this and photographed in that, till aa sho declared the very sight of a photo, grapher’s shop made her ill. Her new craze was to have her portrait painted. The old Colonel was up in the Highlands at the time, so Holly wrote and told him what she intended to do; and then she also disappeared into the remoter regions of Chelsea, between the hours of twelve aud four daily, accompanied by her maid. Now, at the time, no one connected those two events; which is strange considering how good the world in general is at simple addition. However, until it was much too lato aud the mischief was done, nobody realised that Archie Gtlfain’s sudden devotion to art and Holly’s craving to be painted were due to one simple fact—and an evil.

The fact was that they had merely fallen in love with one another. The evil was Holly Cranford’s aunt, an elderly spinster, gaunt, and bristling with the obtrusive suspicion of a professionally good woman. The elderly spinster loathed Archie Gilfain ns she loathed the mammon of unrighteousness. The feeling was entirely reciprocal. Conceive tho hopelessness of the situation. A frontal attack was out of question; the elderly spiuster. Miss Dorothea Anstruthoi- by natno (Dolly was so called after her),'guarded her niece, and fenced her with the barbed wire of a scathing tongue, but most especially did she guard her from the approaches of that frivolous worldling. Gilfain. A flanking movi-jiu-nt became necessary. Hence the studio. X am given to understand that Dolly—well, to put it mildly evaded any definite statement of the artist’s name. Gilfain had about aa much idea of how to paint as he hail of flying, if pos-s-ble less. But tho device enabled him to seo as much of Dolly as was good for him. and afforded opportunities of churning pionio luncheons (eked out by a daily hamper from Beuoist) and long rose-tinted discussions as to tho future. The only person to be pitied, in fact, was the maid

The sky was blue, the air was** clear, and life well worth the living, when a thunderbolt fell, so to speak, on the very roif of the studio. It came from’ the Highlands, and it took the form of the Colonel himself.

He arrived unexpectedly by the night mail, embraced bis elderly relative, permitted his daughter to embrace him, and announced his intention of going to sea tho picture. Dolly nearly fainted—thought better of it. and spent the whole morning sending hor maid to the telegraph offices, barring a few hysterical interludes.

You see, the Colonel wasn’t duo for anothov month, and so existing circumstances wore materially deranged. She talked, she argued, almost implored the Colonel to wait a little, “It wasn’t fair," she said, “to judge a portrait in an unfinished state. It would prejudice him against it.’’ But is was all in vain; the utmost sh e could ohtaiu was a three days’ respite. . , Once more the weary maid was. speaking metaphorically, hurled into a cab with an utterly illegible scrawl in her hand and orders to find Gilfain. dead or alive, and deliver it to him. Dolly then retired to bed with, a bad. nervous■headache.

Archie’s first idea, on receipt of the news was to sat fire to the studio and hope for the best. Failing that, it was clear a portrait of sorts would have to be forthcoming in three days’ time, a period which, when you come to think of it does not allow of an extensive artistic education.

la absolute despair, and a suicidal frame of mind, a bright idea suddenly struck him.

In the studio next door but one to his there lived a genius, an out-at-elbow, cheery, penniless individual but nevertheless a genius-—a man who actually did paint on occasions. Archie went to him, and in strict confidence told him all.

The genius shrieked with delighted laughter, and then demanded drinks. Archie gave him drinks—many drinks — and offered him untold gold if only ho would paint some sort of a portrait of Misa Cranford before the allotted time was up.

"Bight you are, my boy,’’ said the genius; “but I don’t want your beastly money. I am going to_ do this for the sheer fun of the thing. Now get out and go and'tetoh Miss whatever her name is; wo haven’t got a deal of time to spare. Now, considering the extreme urgency of the cose, one might have thought that Dolly would have done everything in her power to hurry matters on. Not a bit of it. Womanlike, directly a possible solution of the difficulty was found she must needs waste s ome precions hours by changing her clothes: "What! my dear Archie, do you imagine I am going to be painted in that old thing? Not a bit of it. If I am going to be painted, really painted I mean, I'll bo done in my new frock or not at all." Archie, - being in love, naturally gave way with meekness, and off she went to change. Meanwhile the genius sat on the table dangling his legs, and bargaining that he should be allowed to smoko a pipe in the studio. For sixteen weary hours of those three days did Dolly take up her position on the model throne, while the genius, who approved of her colouring grew excited over his work, and chatted away gaily, or hummed snatches of forgotten operas to himself and Archie sat staring in openmouthed amazement, and made bets on the success of the portrait.

So carried away was he. in fact, by the spirit of the thing that he actually attempted a charcoal sketch himself, only desisting when the genius, catching sight of it. swore that he felt ill, and wrald have to faint if it wasn’t taken away By four o’clock on Thursday the pio. hire was approaching completion, and on Friday the Colonel paid his visit of inspection. He was accompanied by Miss Anstruther, who came protesting—firstly because she considered all paintings to be works of darkness secondly because it had become necessary to reveal to her the artist’s name. On arriving at the studio she subsided into a corner and refused even to look at the picture. The Colonel put on his glasses, scowled at it. Then ho took two steps back and put his head on one side. " 'Pon my we’d, it’s a first-rate likeness Dolly. Eh! What? First-rate likeness. I like the hair, you know, and all that—what?” Archie grinned furtively and made a face at Miss Cranford. "Glad you like it. Colonel." he said "I th’nfc it’s'about the best piece of work I’ve done. Of course, in this unfinished state—or " "Capital sir! Capitall" grunted the Colonel. . "It seems to me to have caught the expression fairly well, The general— er—atmosphere.” suggested -Archie, emboldened by success, and hapnily remembering a stray expression of the genius.

“Splendid! Splendid sir! Tell you what, my boy. you shall do a picture of my sister-in-law there. By gad! IVo half a mind to lake to painting myscli. Let's see how you do it Mr—Mr Gillain. Como und paint a bit for us now/’

“No, no. Colonel. It would ruin the picture if I were to touch it now, you know'. It would loso tone." (Another phrase caught from the genius.) “It's—it’s—er—wet." “buuf and nonsense!" said the Colonel giuniy. “Lei's see you paint in thm brooch again; it don't show up ouougu. .UeviUsu pietiy brooch that. My last birUmay pieaent to you—eh, Lolly r JJ Archie looked at Miss Cranford, and groaned.. That young woman, however, was in a slate of repressed giggles, and could only nod her head violently by way oi answer.

“ivealiy. Colonel Cranford —" he bobegau laineb'. But that worthy, whose temper hud been on the simmer all the uicruintr. was in no mood fur reason. “Bless my soul, sirl” ho burst out, “what tho devii—excuse me, Dorothea—■ but what tho devil are you artist fellows for, except- to paint I Eh I what?" “i don't believe he can, James," said Miss Anstruther in an acid tone, with a viciuus glance at Archie. “Be silent, Dorothea.," roared the Colonel ; “of course he can." Archie glanced despairingly from one to the other, and Dally maao violent signs to him from the background. He made a vicious grab at a sheaf of bruslios and seized the palette wrong way up. with the result that ho planted his thumb in a dab of cobalt. His unaccustomed fingers quivering, ho made a Inch with tho brush and successfully obbtenited a carefully touched high l.ght. What are you doing, sir? What aro you doing? You're spoiling the whole darned thing," said the Colonel furiously. 1 told you it was wet,*' said Archie and again Miss Anstruther sniffed.

There ensued an aiyful silence, 1 can't paint," ho admitted in sepulchral tones.

"Can't-paint! Bless my soul, what? then sir, what the—what the deuce is a? this?" pointing to the portrait. If that’s not painting, what Dolly laughed. The Colonel whisked round and she caught him by the oaatsleeve and dragged him into a corner. ixdfain sat gloomily eyeing the picture, and Miss Anstruther glared at him triumphantly, the light of battle in her «v«*. •

Sounds of indignant granting came from the corner, which gradually changed into subdued chuckles. Between ourselves, I rather think that Alls©. Dolly drew on the rich preserves of nor imagination while explaining matters. She certainly made the old Colonel purple in the face with laughter (he loathes his sister-in-law).

•'\f. last he emerged from the corner an -j ““koned to Archie. “Mr Gilfain." said he you’re an, artful scamp. I know your father; he and I once 1 mean I don t quite know what to make of this matter. Dolly tells me that you’re engaged. I think you’d hotter come and see me to-morrow, and we’ll talk things “ v ? r - , But where’s the man who painted this picture? I want to see him?." So Archie went and unearthed the geoius, aud proposed luncheon. The latter borrowed one of Archie’s coats and a stray glove, and the four of them went off to the Savoy, after safely packing the fuming remnants of Miss Anstruther into her carriage. The morrow’s interview was safcisfac. tory, and the Colonel bought the portrait for ,£l2O from the genius, on condition that he would expend a portion of it on outward decoration, a condition the latter entirely ignored. But, there were riotous living and the spilling of much good red paint in certain quarters of Chelsea for the next. ton days. Christmas and one hundred and twenty golden sovereigns ready for immediate disposal form a rare combination in those latitudes.