Semy waved his hand in dismissal of Michelangelo. Gone was the simple, declarative obeisance to greatness.
"I only meant it shows wonderful proficiency, don't you agree? Like a virtuoso violinist. You're lucky to be a painter. It's easier to see what you do than in writing. Life today is against the writer in the grand tradition. The world is too complicated. We know too much. Who can compete with Shakespeare? I doubt whether there are any great writers today. Who cares about the picayune happenings of Winesburg, Ohio! That guy Anderson is over-rated."
That new guy Sherwood Anderson sure was Semy's latest wound, thought Clem.
Semy indeed had been upset by the acclaim of Winesburg, Ohio; and had found the delineation of the behavior of some of that book's characters somewhat unnerving. Anderson seemed to be aware of things that Semanter Klug did in the privacy of his room, and other things, like peeping in windows, the last for copy of course. He could have written an Anderson story himself, thought Semy.
"So far as This Side of Paradise is concerned," he said, "I have to get over to Merwald Mortuary by two o'clock."
Lucy shook out the blue tarlatan from its morning-glory bud and rubbed Bison Hall dust from the tips of her ballet slippers. A shame they weren't brand new. She hated not pressing the rumpled costume but Aunt Mabel hadn't been out of the kitchen all morning. It really didn't look bad if each layer of ruffles was pulled out. She laid it as best she could in the suitcase with the slippers and pink tights and, when Aunt Mabel went upstairs, tiptoed out the front door laden with suitcase, purse and red makeup box. She felt excited, as if about to dance.
Vida was on the slope of her front lawn. She was looking for a four-leaf clover because if she found one it would mean she and Lucy would go for a long walk in the park. My goodness, thought Lucy, Vida's always dawdling around the front yard. Vida jumped up and pulled down her poppy-red wrinkled dress, looking at suitcase and red box in dismay. "Are you going away?" she shrilled.
Lucy glanced up at the window of Aunt Mabel's room and whispered, "No, I'm just going over to Brick Street." Was Vida going to tag along?
Vida frowned. You always had to pull everything out of Lucy
