ld be an
interesting experience, and interesting experiences were the bread of
life to me. I agreed to come every Saturday morning, and felt that
something was going to happen to Dover Street.

[Illustration: THE FAMOUS STUDY, THAT WAS FIT TO HAVE BEEN
PRESERVED AS A SHRINE]

When I came home from my talk with Miss Hale, I studied myself long in
my blotched looking-glass. I saw just what I expected. My face was too
thin, my nose too large, my complexion too dull. My hair, which was
curly enough, was too short to be described as luxurious tresses; and
the color was neither brown nor black. My hands were neither white nor
velvety; the fingers ended decidedly, instead of tapering off like
rosy dreams. I was disgusted with my wrists; they showed too far below
the tight sleeves of my dress of the year before last, and they looked
consumptive.

No, it was not for my beauty that Miss Hale wanted to paint me. It was
because I was a girl, a person, a piece of creation. I understood
perfectly. If I could write an interesting composition about a broom,
why should not an artist be able to make an interesting picture of me?
I had done it with the broom, and the milk wagon, and the rain spout.
It was not what a thing was that made it interesting, but what I was
able to draw out of it. It was exciting to speculate as to what Miss
Hale was going to draw out of me.

The first sitting was indeed exciting. There was hardly any sitting to
it. We did nothing but move around the studio, and move the easel
around, and try on ever so many backgrounds, and ever so many poses.
In the end, of course, we left everything just as it had been at the
start, because Miss Hale had had the right idea from the beginning;
but I understood that a preliminary tempest in the studio was the
proper way to test that idea.

I was surprised to find that I should not be obliged to hold my
breath, and should be allowed to wink all I wanted. Posing was just
sitting with my hands in my lap, and enjoying the most interesting
conversation with the artist. We hit upon such out-of-the-way
topics--once, I remember, we talked about the marriage laws of
different states! I had a glorious time, and I believe Miss Hale did
too. I watched the progress of the portrait with utter lack of
comprehension, and with perfect faith in the ultimate result. The
morning flew so fast that I could have sat right on into the afternoon
without tiring.

Once or twice I stayed to