She regarded him frankly and without embarrassment.
"I will if it is perfectly proper for me to do so. Surely, though, you would not ask me to do it if it were wrong."
"Not for the world," he replied magnanimously. "It is entirely proper, many a lady comes there alone. 'In art there is no sex, you know.'"
"But I am not prepared now, how should I be dressed?"
"In a drapery, and I have all that is necessary. Say you will go," he pleaded.
She hesitated a moment.
"Well, I will," was the unfortunate answer.
Within an hour, master and model entered the studio.
"Now, first of all," observed the master, "you must lay aside all reserve or foolish timidity, remembering the purity of art, and have but one thought—the completion of it. In that room to your right you will find everything that is needed, and over the couch is a study by which you may be guided in draping yourself."
As the door closed behind Cherokee, Willard Frost caught a glimpse of a beautiful figure, "The Nymph of the Stream." He listened for a couple of minutes or more, expecting or fearing she would
