Butler High School - Magnet Yearbook (Butler, PA)

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SENIOR MAGNET (Answers to these Puzzles uill be found on Page 88) Page twenty-six

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SEN I □ R MAGNET A Portrait of Young Womanhood Louise Russell As I stood before o large blue canvas, wondering what my art story for the Tuesday paper would be, I noticed an elderly man stoopi ig to pick up a glove which he had dropped. There was something arresting about him, not a commanding forceful air, but rather an appealing romantic something. It was just such figures that helped me earn my bread and butter. For six years I had been the art editor's assistant, but my job was the human interest side of art. Mary, my wife, said that the only practical thing about me was that I had discovered that I could be paid for having a romantically active imagination. With my mind on a story, I watched the man. He seemed easily at home in the art gallery, although he did not look in the least familiar. I had been spending the greater part of my time in the exhibits throughout the city for a few years watching for such figures as this. I felt fairly sure I had not seen him before. He was annoyingly ageless. He might have been forty, and again he seemed close to sixty. His hair was thin and a nondescript brown. He squinted at the pictures, stretching his head forward on his neck. He was very smooth shaven, the color from a biting December wind not yet having left his face. His clothes were expensively unnoticeable. I caught an air of cosmopolitanism about the man as he walked easily from canvas to canvas. He was unhurried but strangely determined. He approached an attendant who was standing at the entrance of another room. I did not hear the soft question which he asked. The attendant gave the information with a bored but courteous air. I followed the gentleman as he walked unhurried to an upper room. He walked through two rooms as if he were quite sure now where he was going.. He did not seem even slightly interested in the walls lined with pictures from all over the world. He entered the English exhibit, squinted his eyes, and walked to a picture on the opposite side of the room. It was not in a particularly outstanding position, but I was familiar with the portrait. Now I was sure of my story for Tuesday. The particular picture was one that interested me extremely. From the opening of the exhibit it had attracted me. I had spent hours in front of the portrait of a handsome girl. It had taken me a half dozen trips to the Page twenty-eight