nomy she and Molly were
compelled to practice was rather exciting and interesting than annoying.
Mrs. Brown had the happy faculty of adaptability, and living on Rue Brea
she found there were many American students who were compelled to
exercise the greatest thrift to exist.

Poor Polly Perkins was a sad example of the unproductive consumer. He
had never earned a cent in his life and it looked as though he never
would earn one, but still he stayed on in Paris, hoping against hope
that his luck would change and that he could either sell a picture or
that his cubist theories would become so popular that pupils would flock
to him to sit at the feet of learning. He had a small monthly remittance
from home that enabled him to pay his rent and by the strictest economy
to clothe himself in the artistic garb of the Quarter (velveteen is
fortunately very durable and not very costly); also to feed and partly
nourish his far from robust little body. Mrs. Brown and Molly felt very
sorry for Polly.

"He is such a sad little fellow," said Molly, "and he is very kind and
good and takes Jo's teasing and bossing so patiently. He is really
sincere about his art, and just because we can't see his way, we ought
not to laugh at him. I believe Jo likes him a lot more than she knows
she does. It nearly kills her for him to make himself ridiculous. I am
crazy to see his portrait of Mrs. Pace. I do hope I can keep my face
straight when he unveils it for us."

"Mrs. Pace declares it is wonderful. She told your Cousin Sally and me
that it was a speaking likeness."

"Well, any likeness of Mrs. Pace would have to be a speaking likeness,"
laughed Molly.

Mrs. Brown and Molly were having one of their confidential talks, rather
rare at that time, as Judy and Elise were usually at home when Molly
was; or if mother and daughter did have a few moments alone, they were
interrupted by callers: the Kinsellas or the d'Ochtes, Jo Williams or
Polly Perkins or some of the new acquaintances they had made among the
students.

"Mother, don't you notice a kind of sadness about Elise lately? She does
not seem to me to be quite herself. Sometimes that old bitter way of
talking gets hold of her and although she knows it pains Mr. Kinsella,
she takes especial delight in giving vent to this satire when he is
present. I am glad he has gone off to the Riviera for a change. She is
devoted and grateful to him for influencing her mother to let her have
the winter in P