The midway of the fair was full of attractions - bunco booths, candy floss stands and trinket hawkers. Knots of people stood in front of the stands, blocking the thoroughfare. Their intransigence caused occasional heated outbursts, which rose above the noise of the crowd and the shriek of the calliopes.
Miss Julie pulled her beau, Nate, through the crowds. Her slight frame had no difficulties navigating the human obstacle course. Nate had a harder time, but doggedly followed in her wake. He would sometimes lose sight of Miss Julie, but always managed to catch up, guided by her shrill squeals.
"He's here! Come on, Nate! Let's get our portrait done!"
A street artist - a dabbler in paper and pencil - had taken a booth. There was a roped-off platform with a chair on it, and a gallery wall where drawings hung from thumbtacks. Beside an easel stood the artist: a thin, young man dressed in a striped blazer and plain slacks. He tipped his hat to Miss Julie. "Evenin' ma'am. Sir. C'n I do your portrait?"
Nate glanced at the tariff board and tried to work out a combination that would not look mean, but would be within his budget for the night. "I think ... ," he began, but Miss Julie cut him off.
"Both of us, please. In charcoal - and I want it this big, on board. I want to frame it for our mantlepiece!"
"Of course." The artist ushered the pair onto the platform. "If the lady would sit, and the gen'lm'n stand like so." He deftly position Nate. "Now - hold that pose, please!"
Miss Julie and Nate were an oasis of stillness in the bustle of the fair. She posed prettily, showing of what she thought to be her best side. Nate stood stiffly, trying not to succumb to the desire to scratch in his woollen suit. For ten long minutes the artist worked at his easel, then turned it around for the pair to see. "There y'are. What d'y'all think?"
"Ooh!" Miss Julie clapped her hands and squealed in delight. "It's beautiful!" The artist beamed at her. "Go on, Nate. Pay the man."
The artist held out a hand. Nate reluctantly counted out a handful of coins and gave them to the artist. "There you go," Nate said.
"A pleasure. Sir. Ma'am." The artist poured the coins into a worn leather satchel, then tipped his hat in farewell. "Come 'gain now - y'hear?"
Miss Julie pulled Nate pulled Nate away from the stall and back into the crowd, leaving the young man to work out how best to protect the portrait from damage. She clasped her hands and looked about. "Where to now?"
A few yards away, a barker raised a megaphone to his lips and called through it, "Come one! Come all! Come see the Princess Jasmine do the Dance of the Veils!"
"We've done somethin' for you," Nate said to Miss Julie. "How's about we do somethin' for me?"
