Ralph Henry Barbour

“ Cole. “That’ll do for this time. Would you like to see it now?”
Harry stared at the canvas in bewilderment. The picture wasn’t at all as she had expected to find it. There she sat in a green willow chair, to be sure, and there was the river beyond and the shore beyond that, but the green chair had turned very dark, the river was a radiant, magical blue and the woods on the shore were just a lot of broad blue-green brush-strokes. As for herself—well, it wasn’t finished yet, as the painter reminded her, but if she looked anything like the girl on the canvas she would be happy for ever and ever! ”

“ Harry’s mouth drooped until Roy cut in with an indignant: “Don’t you mind him, Harry. It’s a bully likeness. I’d know it anywhere!”
“So would I,” said Dick. “Chub’s just teasing.” And Chub owned up that he was.
“Say, don’t you love the colors, though?” asked Roy eagerly. “Why, that blue looks good enough to eat!” He turned toward the artist with a new respect. “I guess you’re a cracker-jack, sir.”
“Oh, you’re all too flattering,” laughed Mr. Cole. “You’ll never make art critics of yourselves unless you restrain your enthusiasm. ”

“ As he talked and as Harry strolled around the deck, not forgetting to return at frequent intervals to the box on the table, he worked on at the canvas, shooting little glances at her and painting rapidly.
“I’m rested now,” said Harry presently. “Shall I sit down again?”
“Please, and take the same position. That’s it, only please lean the body a little further back. Thank you. Just a little while longer now.”
Then silence fell over the Jolly Roger again, broken by the movements of the painter or the lazy stirring of Jack on the deck below. The sun crept upward and the heat grew. ”