"They're better than I expected, from Mrs. Laithe's talk. She was so keen about them, I made allowances."
"Mrs. Laithe seemed to think I might sell them."
"Some of those you can sell, undoubtedly. The others show what you can do. They'll get your orders. The magazines are using a lot of Western stuff. That ranchman's wife there in her poor little flower garden, surrounded by a million miles of sage and cactus—fine! It's a story picture, and the story's good. The Knickerbocker might use that. They might want a series from you—six drawings or so—'Scenes of Ranch Life.'"
"It sounds too good."
"It's not, and you'll get stories to illustrate. Can you draw a pretty cowboy?"
"Pretty?"
"The kind in the magazine story. Harvard man, half-back, old New York family, named Van-Something or other; unhappy love affair; tries ranch life; fearless rider, dead shot 'six feet of clean-limbed, virile young manhood,' is the approved phrase for him. He's a beautiful thing—his man keeps his chaps pressed, and he never is seen needing a shave——"
Ewing grinned appreciatively.
"Girl comes out from New York," continued Piersoll—"the girl, with her fierce aunt—home on north side of Washington Square. I'm going to do an article on the story people who've had fine old homes on the north side of Washington Square—thousands! That one block would have to be ten miles long to hold 'em. Girl in tea gown, fierce aunt with lorgnon—threatened with death—flood, fire, Apaches, stage-robbers, vicious bull, rattler—anything! Rescued by cool, daring, clean-limbed Van-Soforth, who says 'By Jove!' as he risks his life. That is, if it's in one of the respectable magazines. If it's only a young ten-center he says 'Damn!' right out in print. Then, love scene on mesa, faithful cow pony and mountains in background, and return to New York by next train, with clean-limbed Harold in one of our gent's nobby sack suits that sets off the unconscious grace of his slight but muscular figure—oh, you know the story."
"I have read it somewhere—something like it."