hought some of going to Bobs for advice, but he gave up that idea.
He was so upset that he telephoned his model and broke the appointment.
His mind was chaos; groping in it brought up nothing.

After what seemed an eternity of time Jane came in. He heard her stop in
the hall to look over the mail. She glanced into the studio, expecting
to see him at work.

"Hello, Jerry; model late?" she inquired.

"She's not coming."

"What a bother!"

"Will you come in here a moment, please?"

"Can't now; I hear baby crying."

"Baby can wait."

"No, my dear, time, tide, and baby cannot," she laughed and ran
upstairs.

He felt this to be absolutely brazen. He could hear her upstairs
laughing and talking to Mrs. Biggs and small Jerry, together with his
son's crows of delight.

"Come on up, Jerry; he's awfully jolly this morning," she called over
the balcony to him.

"No, thank you," he replied formally.

It added fuel to his blaze that she should take his acquiescence in the
situation as a matter of course. He gloomed on for half an hour. Then
she appeared with the baby. Jerry pretended to be engrossed in a
magazine, and only glanced at his son when she presented him.

"Father is not hospitable this morning, Jerrykins," she remarked, and
began a tour of the room, explaining everything to him as they reviewed
it.

"This is the latest work of thy respected father, O bald one. Dost like
the lady?" Small Jerry yawned and Jane laughed.

"Does art bore thee, my son? That would be a blow to thy humble
parents."

The monologue went on and Jerry could have screamed with nerves. When
she stopped behind him and remarked:

"Upside down, Jerry? Is this some new mental discipline?" he rose, flung
the magazine across the studio and himself out of the door.

Jane looked upon this exposition of temper with some amusement and no
concern.

"My son, can you ever grow up to be as little a boy as your father?" she
asked smilingly.

When Mrs. Biggs came down she stopped at the door.

"Has he gone out?"

"Who? Mr. Paxton? Yes."

"I blabbed about the room."

"I don't understand."

"He ast me if you had a key," she went on, repeating the conversation,
verbatim.

"Oh!" said Jane, a light beginning to dawn.

"I could ha' bit my tongue out...."

"That's all right. I may have forgotten to speak about the room; I don't
remember."

"I thought mebbe he was mad. Men are so queer about things."

"No, he wasn't mad, I'm sure. It