lowed to climb up to their perch and
see their work. When he next came, Esther told him of Wharton's lecture,
and of Catherine's sudden rebellion. Delighted with this new flight of
his prairie bird, Strong declared that as they were all bent on taking
likenesses of Catherine, he would like to try his own hand at it, and
show them how an American Saint ought to look when seen by the light of
science. He then set to work with Esther's pencils, and drew a portrait
of Catherine under the figure of a large Colorado beetle, with wings
extended. When it was done he pinned it against the wall.

"Now, Esther!" said he. "Take my advice. No one wants European saints
over here; they are only clerical bric-a-brac, and what little meaning
they ever had is not worth now a tolerable Japanese teapot; but here is
a national saint that every one knows; not an American citizen can come
into your church from Salt Lake City to Nantucket, who will not say that
this is the church for his money; he will believe in your saints, for he
knows them. Paint her so!"

"Very well!" said Catherine. "If Mr. Wharton will consent, I have no
objection."

Wharton took it with his usual seriousness. "I believe you are right,"
said he sadly. "I feel more and more that our work is thrown away. If
Hazard and the committee will consent, Miss Dudley shall paint what she
likes for all me."

No one dared carry die joke so far as to ask Mr. Hazard's consent to
canonize this American saint, and Strong after finishing his sketch, and
labelling it: "_Sta. Catarina 10-Lineata_ (Colorado)," gave it to
Catherine as a companion to Wharton's. For some time she was called the
beetle. Wharton's conscience seemed to smite him for his rudeness, and
Catherine was promoted to the position of favorite. While Esther toiled
over the tiresome draperies of her picture, Catherine would wander off
with Wharton on his tours of inspection; she listened to all the
discussions, and picked up the meaning of his orders and criticisms; in
a short time she began to maintain opinions of her own. Wharton liked to
have her near him, and came to get her when she failed to appear at his
rounds. They became confidential and sympathetic.

"Are you never homesick for your prairie?" he asked one day.

"Not a bit!" she answered. "I like the East. What is the use of having a
world to one's self?"

"What is the use of any thing?" asked Wharton.

"I give it up," she replied. "Does art say that a wom