THE PEE: OMAHA. SUNDAY. APRIL 2. 1922.
Completely Done in Oils By Octavus Roy Cohen
LYUl'l JOJINftO.V oow4 peeiiU!ly fata
i'lrmlnghain, end, m ib rutt af tuntd
Inquiry, nmIljr wade mats appllea
Hon (or 4niMun tmo the heme of via
Callle J'lukera In the capacity of paying gu.
ma Callle t the applicant ikaptlretiy,
lymua. fllUn ekerdiy and uncertainly,
nothing to row fniUuwtio o.r, He re
minded fia Callle of aa aoild.nl which bed
lone since li4 ita day, an4 nilht pebbly hae
another. to aha atiffaned tr attenuated flgura
an4 sniffed query.
How coma you t U liahT"
Lymua voice we pitifully thin. 'Taller
tor ma this wee a good boe'dln place, Mi
riukrf."
"jailer jou?"
Th-huh
Whet hl nam wee?"
Lymua bent hia Iim4 Id d'p thought. Than
ha looked up brlilitly. -I got It. lie 'lowed h!e
tame wae Tr'lorUn itlappay."
The light of batila flared In ia Callla'a aye.
Tbmao, always wee trying to maka Jokee en
ma."
Lymua ducked hastily, "lUckon I'd oughtar
be golnV
Watt a minute."
"ru'w."
Sia Callla scrutinized tU cringing figure.
I.ymua wiggled nervoualy under Inspection.
Neither we nuking a pronounced hit with tha
othar. Ae fur ta Callle. aha ws thinking:
aha n14 boarder somehow her acid tongua
made her ektabll.hmont not overly popular,
and bar waa a man who promised perma
nency if nothing more.
True, ba wa not ti man aha would hava
levied, lie waa .mall and aklnoy and very,
very Murk. In hia right hand ha clutched a
near 1-atlier handbag mid In tha Uft an ap
pallingly creaky tin box. mill, he didn't ap
pear to he tho iMirt of person to aeeumo a.
board Mil and then elude tha financial obliga
tion, ma Ciillle ddved deeper Into tha matter.
"What yo nam In?"
"LL Lymua Johnson."
"Where you la from?"'
"Wh where la I from?"
You echoed me.
"Dunno. Beckon you might my I la from
Knoxvllle, or rensacoia, or eumthln' like n to
that."
"You travels?"
"I ha. Home. But I alma to etay in Bum
mln'ham from now on hencefor'd."
"Ilmml What you doea fo' a llvln'?"
Tha etranger at tho gutee glanced affection
ately at tha tin box. "I paint!" he announced
modeitly.
"You whhhei?"
"I paints!"
81a Cattle waa enveloped by a audden warm
glow of Interest. "You palnta?"
"Yas'm."
"You you mean you la a artist?"
"Uh-huhl I aoht o alma to be."
Tho front door gaped invitingly. "C'mon,
commanded 61a CaHle. a-qulver with excitement.
"C'mon In an' altlec' yo room."
Twenty minutes later Sia Callla reverently
closed tho door of the beat room In her homo
and walked weakly to the parlor, where aha
sank Into an easy chair to reflect intensively
upon tbo deceptive qualities of personal ap
pearance. She sighed with relief In contempla
tion of tha fact that she had obtained as a
boarder the first negro artist In Birmingham's
aoclal hlatory. Truly, Bis Callte had all un
wittingly annexed a plume for her aoclety cap.
As for the nowly-arrlved celebrity, he res
cued a veteran pipe from the depths of a frayed
pocket, tamped down tho tobacco, and held a
match to it A few deep puffs served to sooth
his shaken nerves.
He stretched out on the bed and gave him
self over to some careful thought. And grad-
ully there seeped through his brain tne vague
Idea that somewhere, somehow, there had
arisen a misunderstanding. Finally he sat up
straight on the bed and put his findings Into
words."
"Dawg-gawn!" exclaimed Lymus Johnson,
"that woman is done gone and gotten herself
the idee that I is a regular artist!"
And at the thought even Lymus Johnson
smiled. An artist! Ho opened his tin caso
and inspected the layout within: There, spread
before his eyes, was tho complete paraphernalia
of the sign painting craft.
But events, were transpiring which were
destined to affect Mr. Johnson's immediate fu
ture and professional status. Sis Callle was on
the job.
It was but the work of a moment to put on
her best made-over hat and hit a due course
for the pretentious residence of Mr. Llsha Tor
ring, where dwelt Mrs. Edner Torrlng.
There reigned in the heart of Sis Callie
Flukera a deep and abiding dislike for Mrs.
Torrlng. In fact, there were few feminine
members of Birmingham's duskiest -society
" crowd who had.anything of the elegac to quote
regarding the newest addition to their Inner
circle.
The principal fault to be found with Edner
Torrlng was that she waa pretty. Even her
enemies were unable to deny her that compli
ment. She was a rich chocolate In complexion,
with a figure lavish in curves which were placed
where curves are most desirable. More, she
was a traveled woman, having at various times
in -her career resided in cities as far apart as
Bangor, Me., and San Antonio, Tex. She claimed
acquaintanceship with every colored notable in
the country, and from the day of her Birming
ham advent as bride to the wealthy and influ
ential Llsha Torrlng she swept her way to so
cial supremacy with the haughty besom of a
duenna..
She found Edner sunning herself on the
veranda of the Torrlng home. Sis Callie snort
ed at alcht of her enemy. Some day she honed
to And Edner looking shoddy and shabby and
disheveled and human. But thus far that am
bition had been far from realization. Edner
appeared always ready for a party, a society
tea, a trip to the movies. Today was no ex
ception. She greeted her skinny, garrulous, acld
tongued visitor with soft, mild words of wel
come and bade her be seated in the most com
fortable chair of a very comfortable porch
suite. Sia Callie banged antagonistically into a
sitting posture and laid down a barrage. -
"Reckon you thinks you knows mos' ev'y
thlng. doesnt you, Mia' Torring?"
"Not hahdly, Sis Callie."
"Well then, you thinks you knows mos'
ov'ythlng?"
"N'r neither I ain't clalmln' that."
"An" you knows a heap of prominent cullud
folks?"
"Some seVal."
"Well" and Sis Callie leaned forward
venomously "Is you ever hear tell of a
cullud artist?"
Edner's figure grew a bit rigid and bar eyes
opened with Interest.
"A which?" she Inquired.
. "A cullud artist a feller which paints
'pitchers fo a llvin'."
Edner shrugged. 'They ain't no such of
a thing."
"Ain't there?" beamed Sis Callle trium
phantly. -
"I ain't never hearn tell of one."
"Huh! Mis Torring, they's a heap of
things you don' know nothln' 'bout an art
Is one of 'em. An" as fo reemahkln that they
ain't no cullud artist 'thout meanln' to be
pussonal. Mis' Torring. you makes me think
that lgn'runce bouten art is the on'y thing you
ain't got nothln' else but."
Edner sneered. "Tou says words, Sis Cal
lle, but they don make sense."
"How come not?"
"Fum what you says you ac'a like you
aaafiW. TUn,wttkiUmbimr tmmchm, hi cia awnbarwfay BW ftgwra of Vmm.
Ma afafatoer etf EaW ana?
eapcc'a me to b'lieve you knows sumthin' ,'bout
cullud artists."
."I does. Mis' Torring. Fu'thermo', I claims
that the bea' cullud artist which is is one of
my mos bestest frlen'a.'
"Huh! You says. "What his name is?"
"Lymus Johnson."
"How I knows you know him?"
"Well," triumphed Sis Callie, "I ain't never
hearn tell of no gen'leman artist visitin' at the
home of no lady ifn she di'n't know him pret-,
ty good!"
Thereupon Sis Callie left in a sudden glow
of glory. Straight to Lustisha Atcherson she
went to give tho details of her interview with
Edner. Lustisha was all a-qulver. .
"A sho'-nuff, hones-t'-Gawd artist, Sis Cal
lle?" "Tha's it, Mis' Atcherson. A regalar palntin ,
fool."
"What he looks like?"
"We-e-11," apologized the thin spinster, "he
ain't so much on the eye, but he's terrible
brainy in the hald. An' fust time I took sight
of him, I knowed he was sumthin' diffrunt."
Lustisha rose and made for her boudoir.
"Where you gwine?" Inquired Sis Callie.
"To git my hat," responded Lustisha.
"Whaffo'?"
"Ise gwlne to yo' home with you to invite
this heah Mistuh Artist Johnson to deliver a
address to the Uplift Sassiety at nex' Chues
day's meetln'."
En route to Miss Flukera' home the mili
tant pair met Miss Prissilla Wattles. And as
the critical eye of Lustisha catalogued the phy
sical charms of Prissilla an idea came a-born-
lng, and she fired a question at Sis Callle.
"This heah Lymus Johnson Is he a ma'led
man?"
"No'm. That is, he 'lows he ain't, an' he
suttlnly ain't got no wifes with him."
"Mmm! Mawnin' Prissilla."
"Mawnln", Mis' Atcherson. Mawnln's Sis
Callie. How you Is this mawnin'?"
"Tol'able, thank the Lawd. How things is
with you. Prissilla."
Prissilla giggled. "Things ain't so wuss they
coul'n't be wusser."
"Ain't aimin' to bo ina'ied, Is you?"
"Lawsy, Mis Atcherson, they ain't no men
cravln' to ma'y me."
Lustisha Atcherson gave eye once again to
the slim, well gowned figure; the simple, yet
effective, style; the rather sweet brown face
which peeped forth from beneath the floppy
white hat. Then Lustisha broke a world's rec
ord she paid a compliment: "Reckon I know's
a'ready that men is fools. Edner Torrlng ma'led
to the richest cullud man in Bummlnham not
countln' Semore Mashby, an' he don' count no
how an' you not even close to mebbe glttin'
you a man. C'mon along with us, Prissilla."
"Where tc?" "
Lustisha explained: explained with a wealth
of graphic and intriguing detail. Prissilla
thrilled to the prospect.
"A artist? A regalar artist which paints .
pitchers?"
"Tou said it, honey. Does you come?"
Prissilla was smiling broadly. "They ain't
nothln' could'n't keep me away now."
The ladies were seated in the parlor when
Lymus, in response to the summons of Sis Cal
lie, descended. He extended a limp and fishy
paw to each of them and wondered vaguely
what it was all about. He found himself en
sconced on a battered lounge next to Miss Pris
sill Wattles.
Then something happened to Lymus: some
thing hitherto foreign to his romanceless ex
istence. Through the haze of doubt surround
ing him he sensed Prissilla. He became con
scious of he proximity without seeing her,
glad that she was there without knowing that
she was. Finally he turned his eyes upon her.
Ha found her soothing to to behold. To
Lymus' newly Infatuated gaze she seemed
somewhat ethereal; a falryish being who hap
pened to be temporarily endowed with earth
ly form. And then he discovered that she was
bestowing upon him a limpid glance 'In which
there waa an undeniable intermingling of sin- -cere
admiration and acute personal Interest,
Mora, she waa talking.
"They tells me you is a regular artist, Mis
tuh Johnson."
" "Folks calls it such," he answered modestly.
"What kin' of pitchers does you paint?"
Lymus waved his hand vaguely. "Mos" any
kin' which is handy."
"Lan'scapes?"
Lymus was in an agreeing mood. "Uh
huh!" "An portraits?"
"An whlches?"
"Portraits. Pitchers of folks? Busts an
seen."
"Hmm! Beckon I does." But Lymus was
doubtful.
Prissilla clasped her hands rapturously.
"You is the wonderfullest man, Brother
Johnson."
"Hot dam! Miss Prissilla you sho' done
said It."
Lustisha Atcherson horned In. Would Mr.
Johnson honor the Uplift society by delivering
a lecture on art at the meeting Tuesday aft
ernoon? Mr. Johnson hesitated and Prissilla
seconded the invitation. Mr. Johnson agreed
to speak on the subject of art the following
Tuesday.
Lymus suggested that he would like to see
more of Prissilla. Apparently Prissilla had no
objections to being seen more of. That night
he escorted her to the Champion theater and
after five rapturous reels they quaffed ice cream
sodas at the Gold Crown Ice Cream parlor. At
her homo the moonlight enshrouded the steps
bewltchlngly, and they sat side by side. Some
how their fingers touched and hers did not
draw away. With his heart beating like a pile
driver he allowed his fingers to encircle hers
and still there was no resistance. Lymus
heaved a tremendous sigh Indicative of super
lative beatitude. Came an answering soughing
from the fair lady.
' ,The week which followed was a debauch
of happiness for Lymus. Darktown's Four
Hundred; headed by Mrs. Lustisha Atcherson
and inspired largely by an opportunity for
triumph over Mrs. Edner Torring took the
unreluctant Lymus to its bosom and cuddled
him there.
Lymus was happy. For the first time In
an obscure and retiring life ho was tasting
the glories of public spotlight, and the expe
rience was even more delicious than novel.
He absorbed adulation as a sponge absorbs
wateir only more so. There was apparently
no limit to his receptivity. And, standing forth
as the greatest individual factor conducive to
perfect enjoyment of the occasion, was - Miss
Prissilla Wattles. -
His courtship of the young lady had been
brief, and much to Lymus' surprise and de
light ardent! Gone was his abashed reserve,
and in its place there had developed a domi
nant m&sculintsm. . He fairly swept the de
lighted Prissilla from her feet by the fervor
of his wooing. She could not have resisted
htm had sho so desired and in her case there
was not the slightest Inclination to stay his
protestations of undying affection.
Tet tho broad argent band that lined his
cloud was sicklied o'er with the pale cast of
murklness. The question of personal finance
could not be forever evaded.
Meanwhile a great gob of gloom had de
scended to perch soggily upon the Bhapely
&houlders of Mrs. Edner Torring, a fact which
added nothing tci the domestic happiness of
her husband.
She had never met Lymus, and now she
found it impossible to meet him by reason
of the fact that he was close under the wing
of Lustisha Atcherson. But Lymus was the
lage, the toast of tho hour society was re
volving about his blooming personality and so
Edner and her husband went into executive
aession.
"Ifn you was to get somebody to come heah
" he started. But Edner shook her head.
"That wouldn't do a-tall. What I Is got
to do Is to git this heah artist feller hangin'
'roun' me and doin' what I says he should
do."
Edner placed hand upon forehead. "Lemme
think, Llsha, Lemme ba while I thinks."
Ha let her ba while aha tboiitht. 2 be task
' was obviously a difficult one, and the helpless
and adoring husband watched eagerly for symp
toms. Finally they came first a crinkling at
tho corners of tbo eyes, then a broadening of
the Hps as tho mouth expanded Into a smile
then a hearty laugh. ,
Edner seated herself on her husband's knee.
Her face was beaming triumphantly.
"This heah Lymus Johnson is a artist, ain't
ne?"
"He says." ' T
"But he ain't done no artln' sence he got
ten to Bummln'ham, has he?"
"Not none as I knows of."
"Well why ain't he?"
"Hmm!' Llsha did some tall thinking.
"Guess they wa'n't nobody aroun' town which
wanted to git arted."
"Tha's it, Llsha. Tou said words that time
which had sense. Well that's my Idee."
"What is it?"
"Gittln arted. Ise gwlne pay this feller
to paint my pitcher."
And so It was on tho following afternoon
when Edner had carefully ascertained that
Sis Callie had departed for the shopping dis
trict that Lymus had a caller.
Ho entertained her In the parlor of the
Flukera home. He was dazzled by her sar
torial elegance and considerably ill at ease.
Preliminaries dispensed with, Edner got down
to brass tacks. ,
"You ain't done no artin' sence you be'n
in Bummln'ham, has you, Brother Johnson?"
"No-o-o."
"You Is almln' to, ain't you?"
"Soht of."
"Well" Edner heaved a deep breath "how
much cash money is you gwine cha'ge to paint
my pitcher?"
For one second the universe ceased to move.
Then Lymus blinked rapidly and seized upon
the words which had chiefly intrigued his In
terest. "Cash money?" he echoed.
"You said It, Brother Johnson. I know yo
price is high, but I is ready to pay whichever
you cha'ges."
"I ain't cha'gin thataway," returned Lymus
honestly. "I ain't never had no palntin' Jobs
in Bummln'ham befo' and I craves you to set
a price yo'se'f. Pleasin' customers is my
motter." ;
Edner did some quick thinking. , "One
hund'ed dollars," she suggested timidly. "Fifty
dollars now an' fifty when tho pitcher Is fin
ished?" -
Lymus extended an eager hand. "Gimme
them fifty dollars. Mis' Torring. I assepts."
From her purse Edner , produced a long
legal paper. This she unfolded unctuously,
then designated a dotted line.
"Sign there, Mistuh Johnson."
Lymus shied. "Whaffo' I should sign a
writin'?"
; "This heah is a contrac' which was drawed
up by Lawyer Evans Chew, which there ain't
no better cullud lawyer In Bummln'ham, n'r
neither the world. It says I Is payin' you a
hund'ed dollars to paint my pitcher, which you
has to finish befo' any other pitcher in Bum
mln'ham an which I owes you another fifty
dollars fo' as soon as it's done, not countln'
which I is a'ready paid you."
"B-b-but, Mis' Torrlng they ain't no writ
in' nessory."
"Then," said Edner positively, "ifn you
caln't sign my contrac', I reckon I caln't have
myself arted." '
Lymua signed!
Edner departed triumphantly. At the cor
rer she met Sis Callle Flukers and Prissilla
Wattles. Edner flared into battle.
"I is be'n to your house, Sis Callie."
"You is be'n which?"
"To yo' house."
"Whaffo" you be'n callin on me?"
"I wa'n't callin' on you. I is be'n maktn' a
vlsltment with Brother Lymus Johnson."
"Huh!" snapped Sis Callie. "He wouldn't
go to see you, ao you went an' called on him?"
But Edner waa auspiciously unperturbed by
the verbal dart. 'Tha's it I is be'n seein'
him on a purely pussonal business matter."
"What aoht?"
It was Edner's moment of supreme triumph.
"He is gwine paint my pitcher!" sbo exulted.
Five minutes later a suspiciously tearful
Prissilla Wattles confronted Lymus in tho par
lor of the Flukera home.
"Is it true you is gwine make an artment of
Edner Torrlng?"
"Uh-huh."
"How come that to be?"
"She come an' ast me would I. An' she
paid cash money in adwance."
Prissilla dabbed at her green tinted eyes.
"An' with all the 'wlmmln in Bummln'ham
to pick fum, you went an' puck tho good
lookin'est."
"But, honey "
Prissilla straightened. "They's on'y one way
you o'n make things right with me, Lym'us."
"What that is, sweetness? I'd do anythin'
fo' you."
"Paint my pitcher fust befo' you does hers."
"Sho'ly " Then Lymus choked short his
acquiescence and shook his head sadly.
"Caln't."
"How come not?"
"I done signed a writin' that her'n would
be my fust pitcher? in Bummln'ham."
Prissilla stamped and flung herself from
Then they floa4 miserably and arm of
agony anyped hit skinny frame, lie ahoun
hia head.
That ain't gains do a tail. F'm waa.
Tide heah Venua ain't got i" rMue on.
Tho eelesmen argued, pleaded, rajoled. Ma
finally cut tho price In half. Lmua stood off
and Inspected lbs nude lady carefully.
"lud that lady poae Jea' like that pHehor
aaya aha done?" bo inaulrad In awe.
Certalnly,,, ratorted tho other. "ArtUrtV
mod. la always poae In tha nuda."
"Wliclln' tripa! An' filks thlnkln' ! It a
arlUt!"
"Hot dam: ho fried. "I'M got lt.
"WhatT mt4 the ahopkepr.
"Tho plan which I craves." Itfmus rro
durad two dollara and a half. "Ulmmo that
artment, Cap'n. Wo tradee."
Throe-quarters of an hour lit.r, Lymua un
folded tht portrait of tha immodett Venua In
tho sanctuary of hia room, lie gated pride
futly upon tho eharma of her figure not be
eauae of tho charms, but because ho had con
ceived a brilliant scheme whereby aha waa to
become Kdnar Torrlng Edner fully and mod
ily clothed.
Lymua waa by profasalon a sign palntar,
and an exceedingly good one. He waa deft
with a bruah, and drawing garment adver
ttaementa waa ono of tho beat thing ho did.
Bo It waa that the Idea had come to him of
mounting Venua cn an easel, allowing Kdner
to alt for her portrait, and then gracefully paint
a full complement of clothea upon her now
nude fguie.
Lymua waa exceedingly plea.ed with him
self. Tho scheme waa magnificently simple
and requlrd only a modicum of preparation.
FJdnr Torrlng win on time to tla minute.
Lymua Improvised a data, upon which ha placed
her a an occupant of his solo eaxy chuiBhe
aettled heretf comfortably and Lymua wniio
hia trunk, from which he extracted tho roiled
canvas.
Lymua had never aoen artiste at work, but
then neither had Edner. And ao he got away
with tho preliminaries very well. Everything
st, bo turned to his paint kit and mixed a
large daub of rich brown. He addressed Edner:
"Sot atlddy now, , I commcncca."
Lymua' plan of campaign waa complete
and logical Venue wore no clothea There
fore, he envisioned Edner in tho same frank
condition. Obviously, whatever charma her
f guro might have, the complexion would vary
from that of the famous goddess. Good! It
behooved Lymus. therefore, to reconstruct the
groundwork of his subject.
He dipped hia brush in the brown mixture.
He squinted at Edner and smiled. Then, with
alow but aure touches, he commenced sunburn
lng tho figure of Venus!
Somehow It never occurred to him to change
the complexion of arms, face, and neck and
then paint the clothes over tho white figure.
Had he thought of It, he would have discarded
the idea aa smacking too greatly of mlnstrelry
a brown lady with a white body! Absurd!
He knew that beneath her lingerie Edner Tor
rlng was of a rich chocolate hue . . . and Ly
mus was no nature faker. His painting of Ed
ner would be brown to the skin.
And so his plan was to make the figure life
like In complexion, and then garb It fittingly.
The painting of the clothes worried him not
at all.
For two hours Lymus worked, then , laid
down his brushes and meticulously draped the
canvas to cheesecloth, cheesecloth folded to sev
eral thicknesses. Edner rose stiffly, but grate
fully. An engagement was made for the earn
hour tho following day, and Edner departed
triumphantly.
Alone, Lymus removed the cheesecloth and
prldefully Inspected his handiwork. Edner, as
she stood now, was chocolate to the waist and
the entire being. Then he regretfully covered
the picture and went forth into the streets of
Birmingham.
Near the Penny Prudential Bank building
Lymus encountered Prissilla Wattles. He palpi
tated with love, but Lymus was a humble man
who feared a second rebuff from the darling of
his heart Therefore, in preference to that, he
lifted his hat stiffly and would have passed on,
but the now contrite Prissilla halted him. Briefly "
she apologized for her hostile attitude of the
previous day. Lymus was grateful.
"That big feller Noah Lee," he asked. "1 is
hearn tell that you an' him was mos' engaged
to make ma'lagge once."
Prissilla sniffed. "I an' him! Huh! Mebbe
so he was engage' to me, but I never wa'n't en
gaged to him."
"That's all right, then. But I soht of Jcged
that he is lovin' you a heap, Prissilla."
"Reckon he is. But lovin' ain't gittln'."
"Bless tho Lawd!"
" 'Ceptin' fo' one man," she vouchsafed, coyly.
"Name which?"
She hung her head. "That's be tellin', Ly-
the room. That nlorht. meanderlncr mourn
fully down Eighteenth street, after three curt mus. , An' the feller which I loves ain't never
refusals on the part of Prissilla in answer to ast to be tol1
his supplication to call upon her, he met her
lace to lace.
But she was not alone. Towering beside
her was the massive figure of Noah Lee.
Lymus had heard of Noah heard much
and frequently since he had commenced ap
propriating a majority ot Pnssilia's spare
They adjourned to the Gold Crown Ice Cream
parlor. But what Lymus did not know was that
while they were quaffing the creamy, foamy con
coctions the massive figure of Noah Lee bulked
balefully in the doorway for about two minutes
and immediately therafter Noah departed mut
tering dire threats having to do directlv with
time to himself. Gossip was that Noah and the mutilation of Lymus' skinny little body.
Prissilla for years had been on tho verge of Edner was on time to the minute for the sit
an engagement and that the failure of the ting of the following day. Lymus flung himself
God of love was duo entirely to Prissllla's cap- headlong into the task of browning up the nether
tious instability. Noah, so they told Lymus, portion of Venus' body. When the sitUne waa
was wildly, madly, fatuously in love with the ended the goddess had disappeared from the
girl And now in her moment of pique she canvas and in her place there had blossomed
had returned to his ponderous protection. forth the rounded, dimpled figure of the eta:',
Atone in mo roum, 1110 wuna iijjcueu iu esque .aner XOrring.
Lymus as a place dread and desolate. Even
the fifty dollars were as ashes to the 'flame of
his desire. He had sold himself to art for a
mess of porridge and he was discovering that
the porridge promised to prove Indigestible.
It was past midnight before he slunk off
into a fitful, dreamful slumber. After a pale
and languid breakfast, a temporary fit of
elation was squashed by the receipt of a
note from Edner Torrlng announcing that she
would appear at his studio at 4 o'clock that
afternoon for her Initial sitting.
He sallied from the house, forehead fur
rowed a headachy thought. He turned lag
ging footsteps townward and eventually found
himself rambling disconsolately through the
shopping district of Nineteenth street. And
That night Lymus called upon Prissilla Wat
tles. Long before his assignment to paint Ed
ner's portrait they had considered that they were
going to become engaged. But this w'as their
first evening together as a couple actually
pledged to one another. They sat on a battered
lounge in a dark corner of the. parlor and found
that the outlook upon the future was a rosy
thing indeed. But in the midst of their rapture
a sinister figure Intruded.
There came a rap at the door. Lymus and
Prissilla sidled apart, and Prissilla extended a
lukewarm invitation to "Come' in." Noah Lee
came in.
Ho glared malevolently at the pair on the
lounge. Lymus squirmed uncomfortably, for re
flected in the narrowed eyes of his rival he dls-
suddenly he came to an abrupt halt before the cerned much bloody murder and one extremely
suaaen death.
"Well?" growled Noah accusingly.
Lymus cleared his throat, but the words re
fused to come, rrlssilla answered:
"Well, which?"
"What this heah mean?"
"What does which where mean ?"
"You an' this half baked imitation of a
art's'?"
"Which it means, Noah Lee, ain't none of yo'
business, an' fu'thermo1 it don' concern you none
whatever. So I craves that you depahts an'
leave us alone."
Noah . transfixed Lymus with a scowl. "I
depahts," he said with dignity, "but I an' vou i
gwlne meet ag'in, Mistuh Johnson. We meets
dusty windows of a dilapidated little shop,
There was not much to attract about the
institution as such. It was filled with dirty,
battered books, weird chromos, second-hand
cameras, disintegrating magazines. But in
one corner was a muchly torn sign, rudely in
scribed: OIL COPIES OF FAMOUS PAINTINGS.
FIVE DOLLARS EACH.
He stepped inside, ajid the ancient proprie
tor sidled forward cra&wlse.
"Boss man, I craves to look at some of them
palntln's."
"I have only one left. It is the work of a
Btudent artist a copy of a famous painting
which Is hung at the Metropolitan Museum. A
fine picture. Can't be told from the original ag'in, an' when we does they ain't but one of ua
gwine leave away rum where me meeta at!"
Lymus departed early, and enroute to Callle
Flukers rooming house he turned the corners
wide and trod on the balls of his feet, all set fi-
a sprint. He heaved a sigh of infinite relief as - .
he attained the Banctuary of the Flukers estab
lishment. For one night at least.
He snapped on the electric llaht in htm ..
crayon portrait representing a geniai pain- ana giancea aoout. Then he stood in his tracks,
arch surrounded by tho enormous family ho Something was wrong! Something waa
had patriarched and disclosed to view tho radically wrong horribly wrong! And suddenly
coveted art treasure. Lymus comprehended. He clutched wild ax
The eyes of Lymua Johnson popped open. (xnra to race XioeJ
for five dollars."
"Tain't a paintln' of a lady, is it now. Boss
man?"
"Of course. It represents Venus "
"I ain't keerin 'bout which It represents.
Cap'n. Ifn Venus Is a lady, tha's all what I
asks."
"This painting " He removed a large