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Updated: May 8, 2025
However, abruptly bestirring herself, she exclaimed a second later: "But I must run away. I am selling tickets for you this afternoon, Mr. Hartrath. I am having such success. Twenty-five already. Mr. Presley, you will take two chances, I am sure, and, oh, by the way, I have such good news.
In connection with a projected Million-Dollar Fair and Flower Festival, which at that moment was the talk of the city, certain statues were to be erected, and Hartrath bespoke Lyman's influence to further the pretensions of a sculptor friend of his, who wished to be Art Director of the affair. In the matter of this Fair and Flower Festival, Hartrath was not lacking in enthusiasm.
The drawing of the numbers in the raffle was about to be made. Hartrath, in a flurry of agitation, excused himself. Cedarquist took Presley by the arm. "Pres, let's get out of this," he said. "Come into the wine room and I will shake you for a glass of sherry." They had some difficulty in extricating themselves. The main room where the drawing was to take place suddenly became densely thronged.
"I'm watching your fight with Shelgrim, Mr. Derrick, with every degree of interest." He raised his drink of whiskey and soda. "Here's success to you." As he replaced his glass, the artist Hartrath joined the group uninvited. Lyman, he believed, was a man with a "pull" at the City Hall.
On this occasion, delighted that she had come upon a "minor poet," she insisted upon presenting him to Hartrath. "You two should have so much in common," she explained. Presley shook the flaccid hand of the artist, murmuring conventionalities, while Mrs. Cedarquist hastened to say: "I am sure you know Mr. Presley's verse, Mr. Hartrath. You should, believe me. You two have much in common.
The others laughed good-humouredly, protesting, nevertheless, and Mrs. Cedarquist shook her finger in warning at the artist and exclaimed: "The Philistines be upon thee, Samson!" "By the way," observed Hartrath, willing to change the subject, "I hear you are on the Famine Relief Committee. Does your work progress?" "Oh, most famously, I assure you," she said. "Such a movement as we have started.
There is," he added with a wink, "a Midway Pleasance in connection with the thing. Mrs. Cedarquist and our friend Hartrath 'got up a subscription' to construct a figure of California heroic size out of dried apricots. I assure you," he remarked With prodigious gravity, "it is a real work of art and quite a 'feature' of the Fair. Well, good luck to you, Pres.
Yet, when this Hartrath came across to say "How do you do" to Lyman, Lyman was as eager in his cordiality as his warmest friend could have expected. "Why the devil are you so chummy with him, then?" observed Harran when Hartrath had gone away. Lyman's explanation was vague. The truth of the matter was, that Magnus's oldest son was consumed by inordinate ambition.
You and your Million-Dollar Fair!" He turned to Hartrath with a quiet smile. "It is just such men as you, Mr. Hartrath, that are the ruin of us. You organise a sham of tinsel and pasteboard, put on fool's cap and bells, beat a gong at a street corner, and the crowd cheers you and drops nickels into your hat.
Presley, curious to see the painting that was the subject of so much discussion, had left the group in the round window, and stood close by Hartrath, craning his head over the shoulders of the crowd, trying to catch a glimpse of the reddish cows, the milk-maid and the blue painted foothills.
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