yes of Miss
McCook, the teacher, and that lady, happening upon the sketch later, had
dealt with Fanny in a manner seemingly unwarranted. In the same way it
was not only the exterior likeness of the man which she was catching
now--the pompadour that stood stiffly perpendicular like a brush; the
square, yellow peasant teeth; the strong, slender hands and wrists; the
stocky figure; the high cheek bones; the square-toed, foreign-looking
shoes and the trousers too wide at the instep to have been cut by an
American tailor. She caught and transmitted to paper, in some uncanny
way, the simplicity of the man who was grinning at the jack-in-the-box
that smirked back at him. Behind the veneer of poise and polish born of
success and adulation she had caught a glimpse of the Russian peasant
boy delighted with the crude toy in his hand. And she put it down
eagerly, wetting her pencil between her lips, shading here, erasing
there.

Mrs. Brandeis, bustling up to the desk for a customer's change, and with
a fancy dish to be wrapped, in her hand, glanced over Fanny's shoulder.
She leaned closer. "Why, Fanny, you witch!"

Fanny gave a little crow of delight and tossed her head in a way that
switched her short curls back from where they had fallen over her
shoulders. "It's like him, isn't it?"

"It looks more like him than he does himself." With which Molly Brandeis
unconsciously defined the art of cartooning.

Fanny looked down at it, a smile curving her lips. Mrs. Brandeis, dish
in hand, counted her change expertly from the till below the desk, and
reached for the sheet of wrapping paper just beneath that on which Fanny
had made her drawing. At that moment Schabelitz, glancing up, saw her,
and came forward, smiling, the jack-in-the-box still in his hand.

"Dear lady, I hope I have not entirely disorganized your shop. I have
had a most glorious time. Would you believe it, this jack-in-the-box
looks exactly--but exactly--like my manager, Weber, when the box-office
receipts are good. He grins just--"

And then his eye fell on the drawing that Fanny was trying to cover with
one brown paw. "Hello! What's this?" Then he looked at Fanny. Then he
grasped her wrist in his fingers of steel and looked at the sketch that
grinned back at him impishly. "Well, I'm damned!" exploded Schabelitz in
amusement, and surprise, and appreciation. And did not apologize. "And
who is this young lady with the sense of humor?"

"This is my little girl, Fanny