em Kamme,
Und singt ein Lied dabei;"

"--Anne, you have the loveliest hair," she interrupted her song to say.

But Anne was tired. "I don't think that the Lorelei was very nice,"
she said, "to make men drown themselves just because she wants to comb
her hair on a rock--"

"She didn't care," said Judy, sagely. "The men didn't have to let
their old boats be wrecked."

"But her voice was so wonderful they just had to follow--"

"No, they didn't," declared Judy. "You just ask your grandmother. She
says nobody has to go where they don't want to go, and I think she is
right, and if those sailors had sailed away the minute they heard the
Lorelei begin to sing they would have been safe."

"Well, maybe they would," agreed Anne, hastily, for Judy had stopped
work to talk. "Judy, I shall fall off this rock if you don't finish
pretty soon."

"All right, Annekins, just one minute," and Judy dashed in a drowning
sailor or two, fluffed the heroine's hair into entrancing curliness,
added a few extra rays to the sparkling comb, and held up the sketch.

"There," she said, triumphantly.

Anne slid from the rock, and waded in to look.

"It isn't a bit like me," she criticized, holding up her wet and
flowing draperies.

"Well, you see I couldn't put in your dimples and your chubbiness, for
although they are dear in you, Anne, they are not suitable for the
purposes of art," and Judy stood back with a grown-up air and gazed
upon her masterpiece. Then she caught Anne around the waist and danced
with her on the beach.

"Ich glaube, die Wellen verschlingen
Am Ende Schiffer und Kahn;
Und das hat mit ihrem Singen
Die Lorelei gethan."

"You wicked little Lorelei," she panted, as they sat down on the sand.

"I'm not wicked," said Anne, composedly, "and the next time you use me
for a model, Judy, I wish you would get an easier place than on that
old rock."

"You shall be Juliet in the tomb," promised Judy, "and you can go to
sleep if you want to."

But she let Anne rest for awhile, and used Perkins as a model.

Her first sketch of him was very clever--a sketch in which the stately
butler posed as "The Neptune of the Kitchen." He sat on a great
turtle, with a toasting-fork instead of a trident, with a necklace of
oyster crackers, a crown of pickles, and a smile that was truly
Perkins's own.

That sketch taught Judy her niche in the temple of art. She was not
destined to be a great artist, but she had a keen