* * * * *

The lady whom was passing the summer near Balcom's Works was sketchingEditha's beauty, which lent itself wonderfully to the effects of acolorist. It had come to that confidence which is rather apt to growbetween artist and sitter, and Editha had told her everything.

"To think of your having such a tragedy in your life!" the lady exclaimed.She added: "I suppose there are people who feel that way about war. Butwhen you consider the good this war has done--how much it has done forthe country! I can't comprehend such people, for my part. And when youhad come all the way out there to console her--got up out of a sick-bed!Well!"

"I think," Editha exclaimed, magnanimously, "she wasn't quite inside her rightmind; and so did papa."

"Yes," the lady said, looking at Editha's lips in nature and then at herlips in art, and giving an empirical touch to them in the picture. "Buthow dreadful of her! How perfectly--excuse me--how _vulgar_!"