Anne Barbour Read Online Free Page A

his orchard. He rang a tremendous peal over me, and in retaliation, as soon as he had stumped off I sat right down and drew a picture of him. I have always had a love of drawing and take my sketch pad with me everywhere. I’m afraid I was rather in the habit of scribbling horrid drawings of people I particularly disliked. I always destroyed them right away, but in Uncle Bee’s case, the wind caught my paper just as I finished, and blew it right into his front garden.
    “When he found it, he was not angry, as I expected he would be. Instead, he came to my father and offered to instruct me. Ever since, I have spent every moment I could spare learning about line and form and balance, and all the other components of art. And these”—she indicated the drawings—“are the result.”
    She laid the untidy bundle on the desk, and Mr. Mapes reached for it, his expression resigned.
    As he leafed through the sheets, however, his face lightened. When he had looked at them all, he began again, subjecting each to a minute scrutiny. At last, he looked up with a smile.
    “Well, now.” He sat back in his chair and stared at her thoughtfully. “Miss Burnside, your skill is, quite frankly, astonishing, especially for a female. I think we can use your talent.”
    Tally released the breath that she had been holding for what seemed like the entire time she had been in Mr. Mapes’s office.
    “Ordinarily,” he continued, “Mapes and Son does not handle caricature work. We produce in the main, serious tomes on science, religion, the arts, and current events. It has only been within the last year that I have been able to convince my father that the public is crying out for something more frivolous. The phenomenal success of the Ackermann firm with Rowlandson’s work finally convinced him to take the plunge.
    “Thus, it happens that we are preparing for publication, in serial form, a book called Town Bronze.  “ It is the story of the adventures—or rather, the misadventures—of a pair of men about town called Clifford and Clive.”
    Tally frowned. There was something familiar in all this.
    These two scapegraces,” continued Mr. Mapes, “cover the length and breadth of London, as well as its heights and depths. Clifford is a peer, newly arrived in Town, who meets Clive, a kindred spirit, ripe for any spree. Their activities take them from the most exclusive gaming clubs in St James’s Street, to the sluiceries of the East End — from the Duchess of Devonshire’s ball to Cribb’s Parlour. Does this sound like something you could handle?”
    Tally nodded firmly, wondering what a sluicery might be, and who or what was Cribb — and what was so special about his parlour?
    “Of course, Mr. Mapes. I am reasonably familiar with the London scene.”
    “Mm,” responded Mr. Mapes enigmatically. Then he hitched himself forward in his chair and his voice became intense. “But the most important aspect of Town Bronze , at least to our firm, are the characters portrayed in it. Our readers will meet Lady Beddable, Lord Deeppockets, Sir Toby Potwell, Lily Lightskirt, and Miss Primrose Promise, among others. All of these will be easily identifiable as persons of note in our little metropolis. Particularly, if the “portraits” are suitably drawn in the book’s illustrations. Do I make myself clear?”
    “Y-yes, I think so. I suppose the persons involved are those who have already made themselves ridiculous in the eyes of the world.”
    “Quite.” Mr. Mapes smiled, delighted at Miss Burnside’s quick grasp of the essentials. “People want to read about the nobs. They want to see the foibles and fribbles of those who aspire to be the shapers of our world. Your sketch of the Duchess of Wigand, for example, is perfect! You’ve captured her arrogant self-satisfaction in a few strokes without falling into the grotesqueries of poor old Gillray (he’s gone quite barmy, you know) and young Cruikshank. This is the kind of thing we want for