Page:Brown·Bread·from·a·Colonial·Oven-Baughan-1912.pdf/205

 hitherto to be all shade. Yes, he certainly was a charming fellow, Martin; and as far removed from his dim, gaunt, dreary predecessor in the old kitchen as the tropics from the pole.

What with the various merrymakings and frolics to which this popularity committed him, the great picture, to be sure, made scant advance beyond the sketches and studies already referred to. But there was plenty of time; for, when autumn came, it appeared that there was an opening for one drawing-class in the little town of Appleby, seven miles away, and another at Hakawai, five miles off in the opposite direction. Kiteroa would make capital headquarters—the roads were good; he would be able easily to ride to and fro—and, to Mrs. Callender’s great delight (she had already begun to love him like a son), he decided to stay on through the winter.

That was the winter they had the Dramatic Society at Kiteroa. It was in the old kitchen that a merry company of lads, gathered about the great hearth one frosty evening, with Martin as their host, hit upon the captivating idea; it was there that before the eyes of many hilarious and suggesting critics he dashed off those famous flaming sheets of stage scenery; there, too, that he devised costumes, coached the actors in their parts, and conducted rehearsals. The responsible old family wharé that had taken part in so much life, played at life in those days. At the transmuting touch of Martin, that universal elixir, it became, now a dungeon (with the hanging lamp turned low): now (with the help of Mrs. Callender’s rocker and two chair-backs) a London drawing-room: now, by mere force of imagination, a ship or a forest, a castle or a street. It is a wonder