I went first to the Office, enquiring how I was to act. Mr. Ford took me up the broad stairway leading to the balcony off which our class rooms opened. There were two “life” rooms for women. Mr. Ford introduced me to the head student, a woman dour and middle-aged. “Ever worked from life?” she snapped. “Only portrait.” “It is usual for new students to work first in the Antique Class.” “I have had three years study in antique and still life at the San Francisco School of Art.” The head student gave a mighty snort, grunted, “Colonial” with great disfavour. She had not the right to place me. Mr. Ford had put me into the Life Class. “Stars in the West bump pretty hard when they compete with civilized countries!” she said acidly. “Well, Professor will put you where you belong when he returns.” She proceeded to put numbers on a lot of pieces of paper. The students were about to draw for a place in class. I, being the new student, had the last number and therefore no choice.
