It was almost a Yankee country-girl
type; but perhaps it appeared so to Alma because it was, like that, pure
Anglo-Saxon. Alma herself, with her dull, dark skin, slender in figure,
slow in speech, with aristocratic forms in her long hands, and the oval
of her fine face pointed to a long chin, felt herself much more Southern
in style than this blooming, bubbling, bustling Virginian.
"I don't know," she answered, slowly.
"Going to take po'traits," suggested Miss Woodburn, "or just paint the
ahdeal?" A demure burlesque lurked in her tone.
"I suppose I don't expect to paint at all," said Alma. "I'm going to
illustrate books--if anybody will let me."
"Ah should think they'd just joamp at you," said Miss Woodburn. "Ah'll
tell you what let's do, Miss Leighton: you make some pictures, and Ah'll
wrahte a book fo' them. Ah've got to do something. Ali maght as well
wrahte a book. You know we Southerners have all had to go to woak. But Ah
don't mand it. I tell papa I shouldn't ca' fo' the disgrace of bein' poo'
if it wasn't fo' the inconvenience."
"Yes, it's inconvenient," said Alma; "but you forget it when you're at
work, don't you think?"
"Mah, yes! Perhaps that's one reason why poo' people have to woak so
hawd-to keep their wands off their poverty.
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