ers were down!

And worse than Nancy's tears were Doris's smiles.

Joan understood the psychology of smiles--as she remembered, her proud
head was lowered and she was surprised to find that _she_ was shedding
tears.

"But it's all part of the price of freedom!" At last Joan dried her
eyes. "And I'm willing to pay."

So Joan travelled alone up to town, and it was a wet, slippery night
when she raised the knocker on Sylvia Reed's green-painted door and let
it fall.

The door opened at once and disclosed the battle-ground of young genius.
The old room was dim, for Sylvia had been toasting bacon and bread by
the open fire and she needed no more light than the coals gave. Sylvia
wore a smock and her hair was down her back. She looked about twelve
until she fixed her eyes upon you, then she looked old; too old for a
girl of twenty-four.

"Joan! Joan!" was all she said as she drew Joan in. Then, after a
struggle, "Do you mind if I--sob?"

"No, I'm going to do it myself." And Joan proceeded to do so and
remembered Nancy.

"I'm so--happy!" she gulped. "I was never so happy in my life. I feel as
if I'd got hatched, broken through the shell!"

"You have," cried Sylvia, unevenly. "We're going to--to conquer
everything! Come in your room, Joan, shed as much as you like. I
expected you this morning. I have only bacon and eggs--shall we go out
to eat?"

"Go out? Heavens, no! And I adore bacon and eggs. Sylvia, I have edged
into glory!"

"You have, Joan--edged in, that's about it."

After the meal before the fire they cleared things away, and then they
talked far into the night. Sylvia had already laid emphasis upon her
small order.

"And really, Joan, that's great," she explained; "many a girl has to
wait longer. Some day I'm going to be hung in the best exhibitions in
town, but as a starter a magazine is nothing to be sneered at. I'm
modelling, too--I have a duck of an idea for a frieze--only I'm not
telling anybody about that--it's too ambitious. What are you going to
do, Joan?" This sudden question made Joan stare.

"I--I don't know," she replied, frankly, but with no shade of
despondency. "I'll take a look around to-morrow and, then pack my little
wares in my basket and peddle them, as you have done. If anybody wants a
dancer--here I am! Anybody want funny little songs sung?--here's your
girl! I seem to have only samples. I can be adaptable. That's my big
asset." They both laughed, but Sylvia soon grew serious.