's only twenty-four. Then there's Nora Blond."

"The actress?"

"The actress. She's the quietest, hardest-working person here. She's
got the whole first floor front. Nobody ever comes to see her, except
on Sunday afternoon. She leads the queerest life."

"Tell me about that," said Mildred.

"I don't know much about it," confessed Mrs. Belloc. "She's regular as
a clock--does everything on time, and at the same time. Two meals a
day--one of them a dry little breakfast she gets herself. Walks,
fencing, athletics, study."

"What slavery!"

"She's the happiest person I ever saw," retorted Mrs. Belloc. "Why,
she's got her work, her career. You don't look at it right, Miss
Stevens. You don't look happy. What's the matter? Isn't it because
you haven't been working right--because you've been doing these alleged
pleasant things that leave a bad taste in your mouth and weaken you?
I'll bet, if you had been working hard, you'd not be unhappy now.
Better come here to live."

"Will you let me tell you about myself?"

"Go right ahead. May I ask questions, where I want to know more? I do
hate to get things halfway."

Mildred freely gave her leave, then proceeded to tell her whole story,
omitting nothing that was essential to an understanding. In conclusion
she said: "I'd like to come. You see, I've very little money. When
it's gone, I'll go, unless I make some more."

"Yes, you must come. That Mrs. Brindley seems to be a nice woman, a
mighty nice woman. But her house, and the people that come there--they
aren't the right sort for a girl that's making a start. I can give you
a room on the top floor--in front. The young lady next to you is a
clerk in an architect's office, and a fine girl she is."

"How much does she pay?" said Mildred.

"Your room won't be quite as nice as hers. I put you at the top
because you can sing up there, part of the mornings and part of the
afternoons, without disturbing anybody. I don't have a general table
any more. You can take your meals in your room or at the restaurant in
the apartment-house next door. It's good and quite reasonable."

"How much for the room?" persisted Mildred, laughing.

"Seven dollars a week, and the use of the bath."

Mildred finally wrung from her that the right price was twelve dollars
a week, and insisted on paying that--"until my money gets low."

"Don't worry about that," said Mrs. Belloc.

"You mustn't weaken me," cried Mildred. "Yo