Literary Love-Letters and Other Stories

g the summer girl he had determined to become an artist. His numerous friends had hoped such great things for him that he had been encouraged to spend the rest of his

had wooed almost all the arts, and had accomplished enough trivial things to raise very pretty expectations of his future powers. He had enjoy

t he had his suspicions that a fatally limited term of years would translate the tense into "might have done." He argued, however, that he had not yet found the right milieu; he was fond of that word-conveniently comprehensive of all things

ely to interesting and

cousin, had taken upo

ties. "Visit me this summer at Bar Harbor. You shall have the little lodge at the Point for a studio, and you can take your meals at the hotel near by. In that way you will be indep

an appeared

mething-that's yo

solved to become a sculptor duri

r for a couple of years more until your chef d' oeuvre makes its appearance." Her pupil turned red, and began to murmur, but she ke

ome to that,

stock in trade. You are decidedly interesting, and lots of those girls who are brought there every year to get them in would be glad to make such an exchange. You know everyb

cordial laugh at the frank materialism with which his cousin presented his case. "Well," he exclaimed, "it's no go to talk to you about the clai

s through for you, as Harry says. You must promise me only one thing: no flirting with Harriet and Ma