: Marion: The Story of an Artist's Model by Watanna Onoto Hutt Henry Illustrator - Artists' models Fiction

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Illustrator: Henry Hutt

MARION

MARION THE STORY OF AN ARTIST'S MODEL

NEW YORK W. J. WATT & COMPANY PUBLISHERS

PRESS OF BRAUNWORTH & CO. PRINTERS AND BOOKBINDERS BROOKLYN, N. Y.

MARION

THE STORY OF AN ARTIST'S MODEL

"In dat familee dere are eleven cheeldren, and more--they come! See dat leetle one? She is tr?s jolie! Oui, tr?s jolie, n'est-ce pas? De father he come from Eengland about ten year ago. He was joost young man, mebbe twenty-seven or twenty-eight year ol', and he have one leetle foreign wife and six leetle cheeldren. They were all so cold. They were not use to dis climate of Canada. My wife and I, we keep de leetle 'otel at Hochelaga, and my wife she take all dose leetle ones and she warm dem before the beeg hall stove, and she make for dem the good French pea-soup."

Mama had sent me to the corner grocer to buy some things. Monsieur Thebeau, the grocer, was talking, and to a stranger. I felt ashamed and humiliated to hear our family thus discussed. Why should we always be pointed out in this way and made to feel conspicuous and freaky? It was horrid that the size of our family and my mother's nationality should be told to everyone by that corner grocer. I glared haughtily at Monsieur Thebeau, but he went garrulously on, regardless of my discomfiture.

"De eldest--a boy, monsieur--he was joost nine year old, and my wife she call him, 'Le petit p?re.' His mother she send him out to walk wiz all hees leetle sisters, and she say to him: 'Charles, you are one beeg boy, almost one man, and you must take care you leetle sisters; so, when de wind she blow too hard, you will walk you on de side of dat wind, and put yourself between it and your sisters.' 'Yes, mama,' il dit. And we, my wife and I, we look out de window, and me? I am laugh, and my wife, she cry--she have lost her only bebby, monsieur--to see dat leetle boy walk him in front of his leetle sisters, open hees coat, comme ?a, monsieur, and spread it wiz hees hands, to make one shield to keep de wind from his sisters."

The man to whom Monsieur Thebeau had been speaking, had turned around, and was regarding me curiously. I felt abashed and angry under his compelling glance. Then he smiled, and nodding his head, he said:

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