you_ happy?" he asked suddenly, directly.

She looked at him seriously a second before she answered:

"I don't know-- I hadn't thought about it."

"Don't you think it's important to be happy, Jane?"

"Why, yes, but I think it just happens, doesn't it? You cannot make it
happen. It is like courtesy, or spirituality, it results from everything
in you, your whole habit of life and thought."

"Does it? I thought it was something you went after, and got," said
Jerry.

"Like a box of sweets," she smiled.

"Like a box of sweets, and then you ran the risk of stomachache."

"I call that satisfaction, not happiness."

"What is happiness to you, Jane?"

"A miracle," she evaded.

From the very first, the days at home were a success. It is difficult to
say just what constitutes hospitality. One hostess accomplishes it
without effort; another, with the same material equipment, fails
utterly. Jane managed it. There was an air of distinction, which in no
way interfered with the comfort and informality of her guests. At most
studio teas, people smoke, and loll about, but there was no hint of
Bohemianism, in that sense of the word, at Jane's parties.

Mrs. Brendon always came, bringing her friends with her. Martin
Christiansen brought all the distinguished men and women who came to New
York during the winter to the Paxtons. It was noised about that you
always met famous people there, so the popularity of the stable-studio
was established.

One afternoon found an English poet, a French actress, and a prominent
opera singer among their guests. Jerry watched Jane handle them with
interest. She took them as a matter of course, saw that they met the
people who would entertain them. She treated them like human beings, not
like exhibitions.

"Bobs, Signor Travetti desires tea and amusement," she said, presenting
the famous tenor.

"I guarantee the first, because Mrs. Paxton supplies that, but the
second...." she lifted despairing eyes.

"I take ma chances," laughed the man, dropping into the chair beside
her.

"Jerry, come and look after Mademoiselle de Monde," Jane said to him.

"What shall I talk to her about?"

"About herself. Make love to her," ordered his wife.

"Madame Paxton is veree beautiful, veree _distinguee_," his companion
said, as Jane swept away from them.

"She is," said Jerry, with conviction.

Mrs. Brendon arrived shortly and he joined her.

"Jerry, how do you get all these people here?"

"I don