Chapter VI: A Private View

AFTER Jack left, "the flock," as they were called by Mr. Smith, settled down quietly. Each turned to the work at hand, and, though Jack was sadly missed, the winter months flew by very rapidly and, on the whole, happily. Miss Nelson, whose opportunities for lectures and concerts had never been very great, now was able to indulge herself in many directions hitherto denied her. Theo worked away resolutely at her music, her voice losing none of its sweetness by good training. Perhaps nothing could have given her more comfort at this time than her power to sing. Val, whose chief charm had always been her little engaging ways, was now adding to them some of Theo's graciousness. She was also gaining a thoughtfulness and an appreciative spirit which heretofore had been somewhat lacking.

Archie spoke out one day, when Miss Nelson had completed some little service for which Val expressed her thanks,—

"You are getting to be an awfully nice girl, Val," he exclaimed.

Val blushed, then retorted, "As if I were not always an awfully nice girl."

"Well, so you were, compared to some; but you used to take everything as a matter of course. Miss Le Moyne used to come first, and now she doesn't. You used to accept anything done for you as if it were your right."

"I was a little spoiled, I believe," replied Val. "I did use to think just that way, Archie, but now I see that no favor, no kindness is too small to appreciate; and not only that, but to appreciate by expressing thanks for it. That is auntie's teaching and Theo's example, and it is due to one of our teachers, too, a little. It is awfully good of you to say I have improved."

"Humph!" responded Archie. "I might take a few lessons myself. I've been pretty mean to you sometimes, Val, but I believe I tried to take you down a peg or two, so I didn't praise you too much."

"I shouldn't think you did," and Val laughed. "Miss Butler didn't either, till she thought I deserved a little encouragement. She told us one day of her grandmother, who was one of the most lovable old ladies in the world. We were all saying what we most dreaded, and one of the girls said she dreaded old age more than anything. Then Miss Butler gave us these little maxims of her grandmother's," and Val drew a little note-book from her pocket. "Do you want to hear them?" she asked.

"Certainly; 'what's sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander.' Fire away!"

And Val read,—

"'She who feeds upon admiration may one day starve upon neglect.'

"'She who worships self, worships at an empty shrine.'

"'She who sees no beauty save in her mirror will not have much to
admire in the evening of life.'

"'She who in youth seeks nothing but pleasure will find old age a
dreary time.'

"For she read he," said Val, in conclusion, putting back the book into her pocket.

"They're pretty good," said Archie, thoughtfully. "What do you most dread, Val?"

"Oh, being shut up in a place where I can't stand upright," she replied; "that is my horror. One of the girls said she dreaded obscurity,—it is funny how the characteristics of each one came out that day,—and we all smiled, for she is so exactly that way, and is always saying she is so very proud. But it isn't real pride at all: it is a love of importance. She would rather be important than happy."

"What an occult way of putting it," remarked Archie. "Just what do you mean?"

"I mean that she loves adulation. She enjoys the sweet taste of praise. She would rather wear herself out for the sake of a word of praise than be at peace without it. Oh, Archie, we do have larks sometimes; there are some such witty girls at this school. Not long ago, we had great trouble in keeping any soap in the lavatory. The girls would take it out and forget to return it, till one of the girls put up on the door, 'Who enters here, leave soap behind.' And it struck every one's sense of humor, so that we have had no trouble since."

"Shall you only go this year?"

"I don't know. I sometimes think I should like to go to college, if you all were to be near me. I like auntie's idea of a woman's taking up certain studies, even if she makes no practical use of them. Auntie thinks women need breadth of mind and concentration, and for that reason should study mathematics and science. She thinks we allow ourselves to be drawn away by little details too much, and do not see things in a large way. But I don't want to go away off by myself."

"Are you afraid of getting into mischief?" asked Archie, teasingly.

"No," replied Val, scornfully. "I used to get into mischief and do indiscreet things, but I hope I have more respect for myself now. If I do not go to college, we can study at home, Theo and I; there are plenty of studies we could keep up without masters."

"Do you remember the summer we tried to study literature?" said Archie to Theo, who had just come in.

"Yes," answered Theo, smiling. "Archie was so funny, Val; he used to ask the most ridiculous questions. I remember once, when Hawthorne was our subject, and auntie said, 'And then they went to live at the old Manse,' that Archie burst out with, 'He couldn't have had much pride, auntie. Why did he go to live at the old man's? Couldn't he support his wife?' How auntie did laugh!"

"You didn't know any better yourself," retorted Archie, "till auntie told us what the old Manse was. I was a very little chap, anyhow, only about ten or twelve."

"Where is Nan?" asked Val.

"She has gone to see one of her artist friends."

"Isn't she working too hard?" asked Archie.

"She does work hard," was Theo's reply; "but it is her delight. I never saw any one more in love with her work. She says she loves her brushes better than anything else, and I almost believe her. I sometimes tell her that her friends are a minor consideration where her painting is concerned. But if she is happy, I shouldn't say a word. When I scold her about wearing herself out, she always answers me with:

"'Get leave to work
In this world,—'tis the best you get at all,—'

"And then I have nothing at all to say, since I have such great respect for Mrs. Browning; and then Nan believes in giving expression to whatever talent one may possess. She says, 'If you have anything to say, say it, through one medium or another; if you have anything to do, do it.'"

"If you have anything to eat, eat it," interrupted Archie, spying a dish of fruit on the table and reaching over to help himself to an apple.

"If you have anything to snatch, snatch it," interposed Val, suiting the action to the word and robbing Archie of his fruit.

Then began a wild flight of Val around the room, behind tables and chairs, with Archie after her, Theo remonstrating. "Don't, Archie! Stop, Val! The people on the floor below will think we are savages executing a war dance."

But in the midst of the tussle Nannie came in, and the two belligerents agreed to divide the apple, bite and bite about.

"What luck, Nan?" inquired Theo.

Nannie dropped into a chair. "I don't know," she answered; "but I sent it haphazard, and now I am so nervous and excited over it."

"Over what?" asked Archie, curiously.

The girls looked at each other.

"Shall we tell him?" said Theo.

"Oh, yes," decided Val; "tell him. Nan doesn't mind his knowing."

Nannie hesitated, but at Archie's reproachful look confessed the secret. "I have sent a picture to the exhibition," she admitted. "I didn't want any one to know, for, in case it should be rejected, I should feel so cut up about it. So don't tell, Archie."

"I'll be as silent as a clam," promised Archie; "but you'll get in, Nan. I prophesy that."

"Oh, don't!" exclaimed Nannie, putting up her hand as if to ward off the prophecy. "Don't say anything to make me more excited than I am. I think it was very brazen of me to send it, at best; but I did so want to."

"It wasn't brazen!" exclaimed the other girls. "Oh, Archie, it is splendid."

"What is the subject?"

"Val sat for it," explained Nannie; "it is only a head."

"And, of course," put in Val, "if it is rejected, it will be on account of the subject."

"No! No!" expostulated Nan. "You were positively delightful with that yellow drapery."

"I'm sure you idealized it enough," asserted Val.

"Not a bit."

"There! There!" interposed Archie. "You two modest creatures quit your wrangling. When shall you know, Nan?"

"Not till the twenty-second."

"We are all going to the private view," said Theo; "and we are going, in sections, to stand before the picture and admire it. Then maybe somebody, hearing our ecstatic expressions of admiration, will buy it."

"Don't suggest such a possibility," begged Nannie. "You will drive me wild. Please, please, talk about something else, and let me recover my equilibrium."

"I believe you are more nervous than I ever saw you," declared Archie. "We'll turn the subject."

"We'll have to; there's some one at the door," notified Val.

"I was told to come right up," said a voice, and Val's friend, Nettie Wayne, made her appearance.

Archie, who was sitting in the hammock, attempted to rise, that he might be presented to the caller. But hammocks are not to be depended upon, and, just at the critical moment, it gave a flop, causing Archie to turn a back somersault, presenting his heels to the young lady in the most ludicrous manner. He recovered himself almost immediately, however, saying,—

"We do not always do those things, Miss Wayne; although you may have heard of our performances up here. You have been to studios before, no doubt?"

"I have been here before," laughingly replied Miss Wayne. "But I am glad you explained, Mr. Nelson, for Val has told me of her cousin Archie, and I might have expected some surprise."

"Val, Val, what have you been saying of me?" demanded Archie. "Did you tell Miss Wayne that I always greet callers in some unusual way,—that I turn somersaults, or stand on my head whenever a visitor appears? I assure you, Miss Wayne, it is not so. I really and truly behave quite like other men, usually. What are you laughing at, Nan? Don't I?"

Nannie shook her head in denial. "I never saw one quite like you," she replied, teasingly.

"Is that a compliment or not?" returned Archie, regarding her thoughtfully.

"I shall not tell you," responded Nannie, a little confused. Then, turning to Nettie, "Are you going to sit for me?"

"Not with all these people here," confessed Nettie.

"Go, people, go!" ordered Nannie.

"That's mean, Nan, to turn us out. Let me stay, anyhow," entreated Val. "I'll read aloud while you work," she added, with a sudden inspiration.

"Well, then, you may stay."

"She means she objects to us," remarked Archie to Theo. "Come, Theo, they don't know what they miss. I have something in my pocket that you and I will discuss together. Let us go to auntie's room," and Archie picked up his overcoat, drawing something from one of the pockets.

"What a 'moreish' looking package," cried Val. "Oh, Nan, don't turn them out! It is a box of Huyler's candy, I know, and they will eat it all up. They won't leave us a 'vestment' of it, as Mammy says."

"Aha!" exclaimed Archie. "Revenge is sweet; it is as sweet as the contents of this box," and he held the package aloft. "Come, Theo!" And he was out of the door before they could stop him.

With one accord they fell upon Theo. "We'll keep her as hostage," they cried. "Arch shall not have her till he divides the candy," maintained Val.

"Let me go!" cried Theo, trying to extricate herself.

But they held her fast, and in a few moments, finding Theo did not follow him, Archie returned.

"Help! Help! Your aid, Sir Knight!" implored Theo, struggling to get free.

"A maiden in distress!" exclaimed Archie, advancing upon the captors.

"Don't you dare to touch us," commanded Nan, with great dignity. "Archibald Nelson, if you step your foot one inch nearer, I'll—I'll—"

"What? Say your worst."

"I'll paint a hideous portrait of you. I'll exhibit it. I'll make it a perfect caricature. I'll sell it. I'll make you wish you had never been born."

During this parley, the girls had weakened their grasp upon Theo, who, watching her opportunity, freed herself, and darted into the arms of Archie, who was now put upon the defensive, and was obliged to dodge the shower of missiles thrown in his direction,—paint-brushes, wads of paper, pencils, and pieces of rubber went flying across the room.

"Such behavior!" Archie expostulated, dodging a brush.

"So undignified!" cried Theo, ducking her head under Archie's arm as a bit of rubber whizzed by.

"All the ammunition is used up," announced Nan, looking in vain for something to throw.

And Val darted forward to catch up the brush lying closest to her. But Archie was on the alert, and caught her by the wrist as she was in the act of picking up the brush.

"We'll compromise; we'll compromise," cried Nan.

"Done!" replied Archie. "What are your terms?"

"Pass around the candy once, and let Val go. You may keep Theo; we promise not to recapture her."

To this Archie agreed, and the girls, after helping themselves liberally, settled down to work, left unmolested by Archie and Theo.

The morning of the twenty-second, Nannie watched for her mail with fear and trembling. "I don't count on it at all," she kept repeating. "Really, I shall be very much surprised if I am hung."

"If you are hung? Is the picture as bad as that?" inquired Miss Nelson, with a smile.

"Oh, Miss Nelson, you know what I mean. I mean if I am accepted."

"There is the mail!" and Val sprang to her feet.

Nannie sat very still, the color coming and going in her face.

"What will you give?" cried Val, holding a large square envelope above her head.

"Don't tease, dear," reproved Miss Nelson. "Give Nannie her mail."

"Oh!" breathed Nannie, as she opened the envelope. "Oh, Miss Nelson!" and she turned to auntie, extending two cards with trembling hand.

"Why, my dear, I congratulate you!" was Miss Nelson's pleased response as she took into her hand not only a card of invitation to the private view, but an exhibition ticket as well. "Your picture is really hung. How very glad I am."

Nannie could scarcely speak, she was so overcome, and for the rest of the day felt as if she trod on air.

Saturday evening, the whole party, with Mr. Smith and Archie as escorts, proceeded to the Academy, where they found Nannie's picture, although "skyed," still looking quite well, and very proud did the young artist feel.

"I am ashamed to be seen looking at it," she whispered to Theo.

Theo laughed. "No one will know," she replied.

"Come, Nan, we want you," interposed Val. "You have a great deal to do this evening. First, you are to tell us who is who. You are to point out all the distinguished artists to us. You must know most of them by sight, anyhow; and then you are to tell us what pictures to admire. It would never do for us to stand before a bad picture, and say 'How beautiful!' with perhaps the biggest gun in the art world standing right behind us."

"Oh, dear! What responsibility," sighed Nannie. "I am afraid I shall never be able to meet it. You will have to do your own criticising, I am afraid; and if you show a hopeless lack of taste, I will try to point out your error. That is the best I can do. No, I will do better than that, Val. I see some one I know over there alone. I will bring him here and present him, and put you under his tutelage; he is one of the best critics I know."

And Nannie made her way across the room, returning with a serious-looking young man, whom she presented to Val as Mr. Egerton. And the two moved off together, while Nannie, being joined by Archie and Theo, made a tour of the galleries with much satisfaction.

"Nan thinks it a very good exhibition," announced Val, as they were about to take their leave, "and we have heard half a dozen people say the very opposite."

They all laughed, and Nannie, seeing their amusement, blushed furiously.

"I know just what you mean," she declared. "They say an artist is apt to consider that exhibition a good one in which his own pictures are hung, and a poor one when his work has been rejected; so I shall not allow you to consider me such a partial critic. We'll leave it to Mr. Egerton. Is it, or isn't it, a good exhibition?"

"It is a very good one," certified he. "You are quite correct, Miss Talcott. I have only heard one opinion from those really capable of judging."

And Nannie looked around triumphantly.

"Oh, we thought so," Val declared, airily. "We just wanted to guy you, Nan."

Mr. Egerton looked amused, and Nan was satisfied at having cleared herself of having exhibited undue partiality.

The next day she came home with a great piece of news.

"Girls! Girls! Where are you all?" she cried. "Miss Nelson, what do you think?" And she ran from one room to room till she found the three in Miss Nelson's room. "Oh, what do you think? I went to the Academy, to-day, and my picture is sold," she proclaimed. "Sold! Do you hear? Oh, that dear, nice little ticket did look so delightful. I could hardly believe my eyes. Sold! The very first night. Isn't it wonderful?"

"Oh, Nan! Why, Nan!" they exclaimed. "And who has bought it?"

"I don't know. I didn't charge a very big price; and the secretary told me the purchaser preferred not to have his name made public."

"I should like to know," said Val, "for it really looks so much like me. And it seems so funny for a stranger to be looking at my portrait day after day,—to be the actual owner of my likeness. I want to know who has bought it."

"Perhaps it was Mr. Smith," suggested Theo.

"Maybe it was. You ought to know, auntie. Did he specially admire it?" inquired Val.

"He liked it very well as a painting, but said he would rather have a portrait of Val without all those fal-lals."

"That sounds just like him, so probably it was not he, after all. We'll ask him," decided Val.

But Mr. Smith disclaimed any knowledge of the purchase, and the name of the owner remained unknown.