ries it half conceals.

High up the hill to the left is the village of Marsland, with its
squat, grey church, which I must visit one day; and farther away
still--for I must be candid at all costs--there are a few factory
chimneys, but they are too distant to be obtrusive.

Such is my picture: would that I could paint it better. Looking upon
it my spirit bathes and is refreshed.

CHAPTER V

FARMER BROWN IS PHOTOGRAPHED

My studio is complete at last, and I have already had one customer, not
counting Mother Hubbard, who had the privilege of performing the
opening ceremony, and who was my first sitter. I insisted upon that,
all the more because the dear old soul had never been photographed
before in her life, and was disposed to regard the transaction in the
light of an adventure.

She is altogether too gentle and pliant to oppose her will to mine on
anything less important than a matter of principle, but I could see
that she was grievously disappointed when I would not let her put on
her very best garment, a remarkable black satin dress in the fashion of
a past generation, which she keeps in lavender and tissue paper at the
bottom of the special drawer which is full of memories and fading
grandeur.

I wanted her just as she was, with the shawl loose upon her shoulders,
and the knitting-needles in her hand, and that pleasant expression of
countenance which makes all soulful people fall in love with her at
first sight.

I succeeded in the end, and the delight of the old lady when I showed
her a rough print a day or two later was good to see.

"But I wish you could have taken me in my satin, love, and with the
lace collar. Matthew always thought I looked nice in them."

"You look nice in anything," I replied, "and I am sure your husband
thought so; but _I_ want the dear old Mother Hubbard of to-day; for, do
you know, I am going to send you to a big News Agency, and if you are
accepted you and I will make holiday, and do it right royally."

But my real customer arrived on the second Wednesday in October. My
board had been in position for several days, and had attracted a good
deal of curiosity but no clients, which was as much as one had a right
to expect. I knew, of course, that sitters would be rare, but I had my
own plans for turning the studio to profitable use, and I did not
worry. "Everything comes to him who waits."

I was busy with my miniatures, and was just deciding to lay them aside
for