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Dominique had stopped by one day and had seen my
work at Grandmere Catherine's and my roadside stall. "We must go there immediately," he said. "I've
never seen such modesty. Gisselle has something to
learn from you."
Even I was overwhelmed when we arrived at
the gallery. My picture of the heron rising out of the
water was prominently on display in the front
window. Dominique wasn't there. A pretty young lady
was in charge and when my father explained who I
was, she became very excited.
"How much is the picture in the window?" he
asked.
"Five hundred and fifty dollars, monsieur," she
told him.
Five hundred and fifty dollars! I thought. For
something I had done? Without hesitation, he took out
his wallet and plucked out the money.
"It's a wonderful picture," he declared, holding it out at arm's length. "But you've got to change the signature to Ruby Dumas. I want my family to claim your talent," he added, smiling. I wondered if he somehow sensed that this was a picture depicting what Grandmere Catherine told me was my mother's
favorite swamp bird.
After it was wrapped, my father hurried me out
excitedly. "Wait until Daphne sees this. You must
continue with your artwork. I'll get you all the
materials and we'll set up a room in the house to serve
as your studio. I'll find you the best teacher in New
Orleans for private lessons, too," he added.
Overwhelmed, I could only trot along, my heart
racing with excitement.
We put my picture into the car.
"I want to show you some of the museums, ride
past one or two of our famous cemeteries, and then
