A Hazard of New Fortunes, Part Second

ed at first glance like ma

ete nakedness, with its head on one side, and a stocking on one leg, and a Japanese dress dropped before it; dusty rugs and skins kicking over the varnished floor; canvases faced to the mop-board; an open trunk overflowing with costumes: these features one might notice anywhere. But, besides, there was a bookcase with an unusual number of books in it, and there was an open colonial writi

ome other. In these moods he sometimes designed elevations of buildings, very striking, very original, very chic, very everything but habitable. It was in this way that he had tried his hand on sculpture, which he had at first approached rather slightingly as a mere decorative accessory of architecture. But it had grown in his respect till he maintained that the accessory business ought to be all the other way: that temples should be raised to enshrine statues, not statues made to ornament temples; that was putting the cart before the horse with a vengeance. This was when he had carried a plastic study so far that

being what he was, Fulkerson was his creditor as well as patron; and Fulkerson being what he was, had an enthusiastic patience with the elusive, facile, adaptable, unpractical nature of Beaton. He was ver

er from his father enclosing a little check, and begging him with tender, almost deferential, urgence to come as lightly upon him as possible, for just now his expenses were very heavy. It brought tears of shame into Beaton's eyes-the fine, smouldering, floating eyes that many ladies admired, under the thick bang-and he said to himself that if he were half a man he would go home and go to work cutting gravestones in his father's shop. But he would wait, at least, to finish his picture; and as a sop to his conscience, to stay its immediate ravening, he resolved to finish that syndicate letter first, and borrow enough money from Fulkerson to be able to send his father's check back; or, if not that, then to

wear with a modified profanity that merged itself in apostrophic prayer. He knew it must be Fu

t by fleeting glances with the old man as he got stiffly up an

me to-morro

. Peaton. I haf to zit

etmore's class? Is Mi

amess," Lindau began,

ten mine, Mr. Lindau? I

lkerson offered him a u

ain, Mr. Vulkerson. And Mr. Marge

enterprise. Beaton here hasn't got a very flattering likeness of you, hey? Well, good-morning,"

between his lips before he spoke. "You've come for

which he had mounted. "What you fretting abou

tter? Oh, very good!" he bristled up. He took his cigarette from his lip

ant your lette

oom, meanwhile, with an effect of indifference which by no means offended Fulkerson. He took some water into his mouth from a tumbler, which he blew in a fine mist over the head of Judas before swathing it in a dirty cotton cloth; he washed his brushes and set his palette; he put up on his easel the picture he had blocked on the day before, and stared at it with a gloomy face; then he gathered the sheets of his unfinished letter together and slid them into a drawer of his writing-desk. By the time he had finis

ze on his mantel. "There's yours," he said; and Fulkerson said, "Tha

have to speak now. "And w

tized a return to himself from a pensive

t's in touch with what's going. I'm getting further and further away from this century and its claptrap. I don't believe

if it isn't, we can make it. You and March will pull together first-rate. I don't care how much ideal

patience with mediocrity putting on the style of genius, and with genius turning mediocrity on his hands. I haven't any luck with men; I

rial. Look at the way the periodicals are carried on now! Names! names! names! In a country that's just boiling over with literary and artistic ability of every kind the new fellows have no chance. The editors all engage their material. I don't believe there ar

you'll get by inviting volunteer illustrations will be a lot of amateur trash. And how are you going t

sketches under your eye. They wouldn't be much further out than most illustrations are if they never knew what they were illustrating. You might select f

you d

he door Fulkerson added: "By-the-way, the new man-the fellow that's taken my old syndicate business-will want you to keep on; but I guess he's going to try to be

r already." Fulkerson stepped forward and laid th

dn't object to a little advance on your 'Every

rson. Don't I tell you I can't sell myself out to a

check back. He had remembered his father's plea; that unnerved him, and he promised himself again to return his father's poor little check and to work on that picture and give it to Fulkerson for the check he had left and for his back debts. He resolved to go to work on the picture at once; he had set his palet