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picturesque. What is Elmer laughing at? No, Elmer, she can’t pull up
her dress; she has no arms, poor thing. Those are easles, dear, not step-
ladders. Come down at once! Why does he say “Pose,” Mr. Scott?
Q-0-0-oh. Quick, Elmer, a glass of water for Cousin Abigail! Perhaps
we had better go on now. Come along, Elmer. Elmer, come along!

Composition Class? Do they write, too? Oh, pictures, of course.
What did you say? O-oh, Indians boating. Oh yes. Yes. Um-hum.
Yes, that’s what I think, Mr. Scott. No, really? So pretty. Elmer!
Yes, Mr. Scott. ELMER!

Dear Abigail, are you feeling stronger? Perhaps if you took off your
glasses and rested your eyes for a while you'd feel better.

Elmer, keep out of those little cupboards. Stop, I say, stop this
minute! Oh dear, pick everything up. You will understand, Mr. Scott;
you have a little boy of your own.

Mr. Scott’s words utterly fail to express the inspiration it has been
to witness the consummate artistry of such aesthetic mentors. It has
always been a deeply cherished dream of my own to paint. What’s that,
Elmer? You say I do paint. That’s enough, Elmer. Come along. Good-
bye, Mr. Scott. Good-bye! Elmer!

‘SeDbe ss
COMPOSITION OF AN

INDIAN “LEG END’