ere it is, but you'll have to bring
your lunch with you. There are gas stoves to cook on in the back room,
and tables and chairs in the front one, if you're not too late to get a
place."

Elinor thanked her cordially, while Patricia almost dislocated her neck
trying to get a glimpse of the big canvas that protruded from the
locker while still keeping far enough behind Elinor for her curiosity
to pass unnoticed.

"It is down a little iron stairway behind that screen," said the girl,
tucking a paper parcel into the capacious pocket of her blue jean paint
dress, "and it's only for girls. The men have one on the other side of
the building. Come down as soon as you can, for it's fearfully crowded
later on."

Patricia watched her disappear behind the big screen of the composition
room, and then she turned excitedly to Elinor.

"Isn't she nice?" she asked admiringly. "She's so cock-sure of herself
and so calm about it. I like the way her eyebrows meet over her
haughty nose, and that superior kink in her nice, crinkly lips. I know
she's going to be worth while when we know her."

"For goodness' sake, don't be jumping into admirations wholesale, Miss
Pat, darling," said Elinor, gently pulling Patricia's arm through hers
as they passed into the narrow entrance to the dressing room. "Don't
rush at it so, ducky. You can't know the right people at once, and it
saves a lot of bother not to get too familiar with the wrong ones."

"Just as you say, Miss Solomon," rippled Patricia, too happy to be
depressed by anything. "I'll be as frigid as you like, and if any of
these frivolous young things try to scrape an acquaintance with me,
I'll snub them good and hard."

She lowered her voice as two newcomers entered--one a slender, faded
young woman with near-sighted pale eyes, and the other a blond girl
with a dazzling skin and glorious shimmering hair wound around a
shapely head. Both were in aprons, but the younger wore a dull green
that set off her fair beauty to perfection, while the checked gingham
of the other proclaimed a hopelessly downright taste.

Patricia, at the mirror, paused in the act of pinning on her hat, her
eyes riveted on the vision in dull green.

"Isn't she lovely?" she demanded in a thrilling whisper of Elinor, who
had slipped into her things and was already at the door.

The girl unmistakably caught the words, for she turned a brilliant,
measuring, half-approving look on her while she slowly began