the figure. "I don't know
how you managed to get it so well."

"Well, Ju was studying hard and not merely posing," returned Patricia
seriously. "Somehow it gets into the work. There isn't anything that
tells the truth so straight as our sort of work, Norn. You simply
can't fake. Judy deserves part of the credit. And then, I liked it
so, I couldn't help getting on with it. It's so fearfully jolly to a
_producer_."

Judith gave her pale locks a toss. "Why, we're all doing it!" she
crowed. "You two in the Academy, and I at home here in my diary and my
stories! Aren't we a talented lot!"

"_Stuff!_" said Patricia disgustedly. "You and I needn't brag yet a
while, Judy. Elinor's the only one that's got a ghost of a showing.
You've a long lane to run before you can even be considered, and I'm
just common, every-day stuff like everyone else. This is just a flyer
I'm taking in the company of my betters," and she gave a whimsical
glance at Elinor with the insight that was occasionally hers in brief
glimpses. "I can't fly far, I warn you, but it's simply ripping while
I'm on the wing!"

"Judy likes to see herself go by in the mirror," smiled Elinor
leniently. "I suppose that's the literary mind."

"Literary grandmother!" exclaimed Patricia scornfully. "She's a
conceited chicken that thinks she's a nightingale because she can peep
louder than some. Wait till you've had some of your stuff printed,
Judy, before you boast. Anyone can scribble----"

"You'll hurt her feelings, Miss Pat," protested Elinor, as Judith's
dignified back disappeared into her own room and the door closed
firmly. "She doesn't mean to be boastful."

"Nonsense! I'm her only hope," returned Patricia with spirit. "She
won't amount to a row of pins if she goes on this way. Don't you worry
about her feelings. She's got sense enough to know I'm right. Come
along over to the Academy with me now. The walk will do you good, and
I'll feel more respectable with a good-looking escort while I'm lugging
this huge thing."

They met Doris Leighton coming out of the students' door, and after a
few inquiries found that she had just accomplished the same errand that
Patricia was bent on. Her study for the prize panel was safely stowed
away in the office of the curator.

"What was it like?" eagerly demanded Patricia. "It doesn't matter now,
you know, if you tell. We won't tell, and it's too late, anyway, to
make any difference."

Doris hes