Mr. and Mrs. Morrow were artists both; and she found them,
blouse-swathed and disheveled, doing charcoal studies in a corner of
the room apiece. Mrs. Morrow kissed Joy, arching over her so that
the smudges on her pinafore wouldn't be transferred. Mr. Morrow came
out of his corner and shook hands with her with less care, so that
his smudges did come off on her. Then they both listened to her
story with the same kindness and interest every one else had shown
her that morning.
"I can sit still or stand still as long as ever you want me to," Joy
explained. "And you said yourself I was decorative, Mr. Morrow; you
know you did!"
"I did, indeed," Mr. Morrow answered promptly, while Mrs. Morrow
asked some more questions.
Joy answered them.
"And I would be able to earn enough money for all those things in
the window by Friday?" she ended.
The Morrows smiled and glanced at each other. Joy did not know, till
some months later, why they smiled. Then they spoke, nearly together.
"Yes, indeed, dear child--quite enough!"
Joy was reassured, because, though she didn't know model-prices, she
had been afraid that it wouldn't be.
Then they gave her some purple draperies--the satins wouldn't do,
after all, it appeared--and arranged her in them. And, to
anticipate, when Joy went out to that statehouse, the next year, she
was able to pick out her own bronze-gold braids and purple royalties
all up and down the frieze.
Pages:
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41