cousin?"

They started slowly away from temptation, away from the vision of the
pedestal and the shadowy creatures, and the apparition of the Sphinx
seemed to brood over them as they went, and nothing but a Sphinx's
wisdom could have answered the question Fairfax put: "What are you going
to be when you grow up, little Bella?"

Fairfax soon carried the little boy, and Bella in a whisper said--

"He is almost too small for our parties, Cousin Antony."

"Not a bit," said the limping cousin, stoically. "We couldn't get on
without him, could we, old chap?"

But the old chap didn't answer, for he had fallen asleep as soon as his
head touched his cousin's shoulder.

When Fairfax left them at their door, he was surprised at Bella's
melancholy. She held out to him the sticky remnant of the roll of
lozenges.

"Please take it. I shouldn't be allowed to eat it."

"But what on earth's the matter?" he asked.

"Never mind," she said heroically, "you don't have to bear it. You're
Episcopalian; but _I've got to tell_!" She sighed heavily. "I don't care;
it was worth it!"

As the door clicked behind the children, Fairfax laughed.

"What a little trump she is! She thinks the game is worth the candle!"

CHAPTER XIX

That miserable foot of his gave him pain. The unusual strain of standing
long at his work, the tramps he took to save car-fare, wearied him, and
he was finally laid up for ten days. No one missed him, apparently, and
the long, painful hours dragged, and he saw no one but his little
landladies. His mother, as if she knew, sent him extra money and
wonderful letters breathing pride in him and confidence in his success.
When he was finally up and setting forth again to the studio, a visitor
was announced. Fairfax thought of Benvenuto--(he would have been
welcome)--he thought of Bella, and not of his Aunt Caroline.

"My dear boy, why didn't you let us know you had been ill?"

There is something exquisite to a man in the presence of a woman in his
sick-room, be she lovely or homely, old or young.

"This is awfully, awfully good of you, Auntie. I've had a mighty bad
time with this foot of mine."

Mrs. Carew in her street dress, ready for an all-day's shopping, came
airily in and laid her hand on her nephew's shoulder. Fairfax thought he
saw a look of Bella, a look of his mother. He eagerly leaned forward and
kissed his visitor.

"It's mighty good of you, Auntie."

"No, my dear boy, it isn't! I really d