The days slipped by with wonderful swiftness after the trunks had been unpacked and things had settled down to the regular routine. Patricia wondered at the evenness of their minds and the serenity of their hearts in those first three weeks of studio life.  
"Everything goes so smoothly," she confided to Miss Jinny one day at the end of the fortnight. "It sounds monotonous, but I don't mean it that way at all. We're all so naturally polite and agreeable. We don't seem to have to force ourselves a bit."
 
"That's because we've each of us got something to do," declared Miss Jinny emphatically. "If we were idling around, musing on ourselves from morning till night like some poor creatures do, we'd get prickly mighty soon. People were made to work, and it's flying in the face of Providence to try to get away from it. We all got our share in the curse of Adam, and the sooner we realize it, the better for us."
 
Patricia played with the handle of the great glittering brass amphora that stood by the low stool where she sat. Her face was puzzled though not disquiet.
 
"I wonder just what my work will turn out to be?" she said thoughtfully. "I'm beginning to be afraid I haven't any real work of my own. I've tried so hard to get on with the modeling—for I do love it—but it just seems as though I couldn't. That first head that they liked so much, and the study of Ju is about all the sculpture I've got in my system, I reckon. I'm downright ashamed to let them know——"
 
"You needn't be," declared Miss Jinny vigorously. "You never pretended you were in it for anything but sport, did you? Bruce knows you're about through with it; I heard him say so to Elinor yesterday."
 
"Oh, did he though?" cried Patricia, kindling. "How clever of him to see. I thought no one dreamed!"
 
Miss Jinny chuckled. "We knew you were only marking time till you stepped off into your music," she said encouragingly. "It was nice, of course, that you got along so well, but no one expected you to take to it for good and all."
 
Patricia sighed contentedly. "How nice you all are!" she said appreciatively. "I thought you'd all be disgusted with me if I quit. After Mr. Grantly said that study of Ju showed promise, I nearly wore myself to a bone trying to make good. I've been scared stiff about it."
 
"Don't you worry, Miss Pat. You'll find your own work all in good time. It mayn't be what you'd like it to, but it'll be something that you can do better than any one else," said Miss Jinny with kind wisdom. "Look at me. I'm sure that books and catalogues is my forte, but the Lord knows better. He's given me the sense to see it, too, and so mama is comfortable and happy and someone else who hasn't a dear mother depending on her does the library work in my place."
 
"You're a darling," said Patricia, "and the Lord must be terribly fond of you."
 
"Patricia Louise Kendall! That's sacrilege!" gasped the scandalized Miss Jinny.
 
"Is it?" exclaimed Patricia, equally startled. "I didn't know it was. Mr. Spicer said it himself yesterday when he was talking to me in the print room, and I was telling him about your poor basket and saving bank, and all that. I'm awfully sorry, Miss Jinny."
 
Miss Jinny had a queer look, Patricia thought, as she turned hurriedly away with a murmured excuse about the tea table.
 
"Why, it's all ready," cried Patricia wondering at her changed manner. "We put the sliced lemon on the very last thing."
 
But Miss Jinny was not to be diverted into talk again, and as she started out of the studio the bell came to her aid, buzzing shrilly an insistent summons to the door.
 
"That's Griffin; I know her ring!" cried Patricia jumping up. "I'll go."
 
Griffin it was, in the highest good humor and bursting with news. She did not wait to get out of her coat before she began to unbosom herself to them both, alternately addressing each in turn.
 
"Kendall Major's missed it, I tell you, going off to that poky architectural show," she declared to Miss Jinny. "We had the time of our lives today in life class. Benton's up in the air because Howes showed him that Ascension study she did over here—you know he never could bear Haydon or his work—and he was as mad as hops that he should be butting in with any of his own special pets like Howes."
 
"How mean!" cried Patricia spiritedly. "Bruce hasn't even seen that study. What did he say about it?"
 
"Oh, he couldn't say anything right out," replied Griffin knowingly, "but he made it hot for us, I tell you. Poor old Bottle Green caught it first, for painting before he'd given her permission, and then he jumped on me for not painting. Radford caught it and then he lit on Slovinski for using the Whistler palette, and she just blew up! These Poles aren't like us tame tabbies, you know, and she's full of ginger, for all her sleepy ways. She's terribly high-born, you know, and can't bear anyone to look cross-eyed at her."
 
"What did she do?" asked Patricia eagerly.
 
"Slammed him good and hard," returned Griffin succinctly. "Told him he was fifteen different sorts of a lobster."
 
"Oh, do talk English, Griffie dear," begged Patricia, laughing. "Miss Jinny doesn't understand your Choctaw speech."
 
"Well then, she rebuked him thoroughly for his variable though severe criticisms, and stated, with some emotion, that the Board should be enlightened as to his unfitness, through his captious temper, for the delicate task of nourishing the tender sensibilities of the budding artist."
 
"My word, she wasn't shy, was she?" interpolated Patricia, much diverted.
 
"Not she," declared Griffin. "We were all in a blue fit. Not that we old stagers are sorry for the man, but it shocked our sense of what's due him as a teacher. I was fearfully ashamed of Slovinski, but it was fun to see how astounded he looked. He just stood looking at her more quietly than I'd ever seen him look at any one, and then he bowed and asked her if she'd quite finished. Jiminy, but he was polite! We all got a chill. Slovinski sat down, and we took to work again. Benton went on criticizing as if nothing had happened, but we felt mighty queer. Then Bottle Green stooped over to get her paint-box, and up she starts, most tragic-like, with her hand, on her shoulder, and she solemnly announces she's broken her arm."
 
"Poor thing, she's done it at last!" cried Patricia compassionately. "Then what happened?"
 
"She got safely off, and then the model began to look queer, and in a minute she'd fainted. Howes brought her to with a glass of mineral water, and the class broke up. But the model didn't go. After Benton had made a small spicy speech of farewell—he's leaving, can't stand being sassed—she got up on the stand and gave us a bunch of monologues that were out of sight. She used to be on the variety stage until she lost her voice. I tell you, Kendall missed it."
 
"What did I miss?" called Elinor's voice from the other room, where she had come in unnoticed.
 
She came to the doorway with her hat and furs still on and repeated the question. Griffin gave her a synopsis of the row and the casualties following, which she received with a little protesting laugh.
 
"I can't say it sounds better than the architectural show," she said, pulling out her hat-pins.
 
"That part wasn't," agreed Griffin, "though a bit more sporting perhaps. But what came after was. Mary Miller, the model, told us the most wonderful story—her own life, first in the bush in Australia and then here in New York and Chicago; and who do you think she is?"
 
"Melba in disguise?" mocked Elinor gayly.
 
"Stuff!" snorted Griffin, impatiently. "Her family comes from Rockham, and her grandmother used to live at Greycroft. She's going out to see the place when it gets warmer. I didn't tell her you lived there now, for I didn't know whether you'd want——"
 
"Lands to goodness, I believe I've seen her!" exclaimed Miss Jinny. "There was a Mary Miller, a little thing about five, used to play about the place when old Miss Spence lived there. Her mother married again and went to Australia. Must be the same one."
 
"Come over to the shop tomorrow and see if it isn't—" Griffin began, when there was a sound of laughter and talking in the outer hall and the door opened to admit Bruce, Margaret Howes, the two Halden girls and Judith.
 
Mr. Spicer and Mrs. Shelly came in almost at the same time, and Miss Jinny's delicious tea and nut-cakes were served with great gayety............