184 
THE STRAND MAGAZINE . 
said she must give music-lessons to keep the 
chafing-dish bubbling. 
For two or three days she went out can- 
vassing for pupils. One evening she came 
home elated. 
“ Joe, dear/’ she said, gleefully, “ I’ve 
a pupil. And, oh, the loveliest people ! 
General — General A. B. Pinkney’s daughter, 
in Seventy-first Street. Such a splendid 
house, Joe ; you ought to see the front door ! 
Byzantine, I think you would call it. And 
inside ! Oh, Joe, I never saw anything like 
it before. 
“ My pupil is his daughter Clementina. 
I dearly love her already. She’s a delicate 
thing— dresses always in white! And the 
sweetest, simplest manners. Only eighteen 
years old. I’m to give three lessons a week ; 
and just think, Joe, five dollars a lesson ! 
I don’t mind it a bit ; for when I get two or 
three more pupils I can resume my lessons 
with Herr Rosenstock. Now, smooth out that 
wrinkle between your brows, dear, and let’s 
have a nice supper.” 
“ That’s all right for you, Dele,” said Joe, 
attacking a can of peas with a carving-knife 
and a hatchet, “ but how about me ? Do 
you think I’m going to let you hustle for 
wages while I philander in the regions of 
high art ? Not by the bones of Benvenuto 
Cellini ! I guess I can sell papers or lay 
cobble-stones, and bring in a dollar or two.” 
Delia came and hung about his neck. 
“ Joe, dear, you are silly. You must keep 
on at your studies. Tt is not as if I had 
quit my music and gone to work at something 
else. While 1 teach I learn. I am always 
with my music. And we can live as happily 
as millionaires on fifteen dollars a week. 
You mustn’t think of leaving Mr. Magister.” 
“ All right,” said Joe, reaching for the blue 
scalloped vegetable-dish. “ But I hate you 
to be giving lessons. It isn’t Art. But you’re 
a trump and a dear to do it.” 
“ When one loves one’s Art no service 
seems too hard,” said Delia. 
“ Magister praised the sky in that sketch 
I made in the park,” said Joe. “ And Tinkle 
gave me permission to hang two of them in 
his window. I may sell one if the right kind 
of a moneyed idiot sees them.” 
“ I’m sure you will,” said Delia, sweetly. 
“ And now let’s be thankful for General 
Pinkney and his roast veal.” 
During all of the next week the Larrabees 
had an early breakfast. Joe was enthu- 
siastic about some morning effect sketches 
he was doing in Central Park, and Delia 
packed him off breakfasted, coddled, praised, 
and kissed at seven o’clock. Art is an 
engaging mistress. It was usually seven 
o’clock when he returned in the evening. 
At the end of the -week Delia, sweetly proud 
but languid, triumphantly tossed three five- 
dollar bills on the eight-by-ten (inches) centre 
table of the eight -by-ten (feet) flat parlour. 
STUFFED OLIVES AND CHEESE 
SANDWICHES AT ELEVEN P.M.” 
