Ralph Henry Barbour

“ I never thought that sitting down and painting pictures of things on pieces of canvas was a decent job for a full-grown man. But I do now, by jove! A chap must have a whole lot of—of goodness, don’t you think, fellows, to do a thing like that picture of Harry?”
“I should think so,” answered Roy. “Painting a thing like that seems to me like composing a wonderful poem or writing a fine piece of music, eh?”
“You bet!” said Chub. “But I’d rather be a painter than a poet any old day.”
“You’re like Harry,” laughed Dick. “She prefers painters to poets, too, nowadays.”
“Harry’s fickle,” said Chub. ”

“ Besides, as to-morrow was Thursday, Harry had much to do in regard to her birthday party at the Cottage, and Fox Island was not likely to see much of her before Thursday evening at seven, at which hour the celebration on board the Jolly Roger was to commence. After breakfast Dick made a bee-line for his paint-pots and brushes, and it took all Chub’s and Roy’s diplomacy to restrain him from going to work again on the Pup.
“Honest, Dick,” said Chub, “there’s too much to do to-day and to-morrow for us to start messing with paint. Wait until after Harry’s birthday, like a good chap.” ”

“ They assured him that they would be glad to have him whenever it suited him to go, and then they took their departure, Harry accompanying them after a final look at the picture.
“Well,” said Dick as they walked back to camp along the beach, “I suppose you’re feeling pretty stuck-up, Harry, since you’ve had your picture painted by a real artist.”
“And a Floating Artist at that,” added Chub. But Harry shook her head soberly.
“It must be beautiful,” she said softly and wistfully, “to be able to paint pictures like that!” ”