THE GAY COCKADE
glowing and gorgeous as some of those unrivaled masterpieces in the Pitti Palace.
"Jim Crow," she said, "I shall do a parrot next—all red and blue, with white rings round his eyes."
"You will never do anything better than that peacock."
"Shan't I?" She left the shade over the lamp and sat down. "Do you think I shall paint peacocks and parrots for the rest of my life, Jim Crow?"
"What would you like to do?" I asked her.
"Travel." She was eager. "Do you know, I have never been to Europe? Perry used to tell me about it—Botticelli and Raphael—and Michaelangelo"
"We had a great time," I said, remembering it all—that breathless search for beauty.
"He promised that some day he and I would go—together."
"Poor Perry!"
She rose restlessly.
"Oh, take me out somewhere, Jim Crow! I feel as if this little house would stifle me."
We motored to the country club. She wore the color which she now affected, a close little hat and a straight frock. People stared at her. I think she was aware of their admiration and liked it.
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