ng upon tribal instinct, never dreams that she may
be set aside. She travels the world over, foot loose, but with her
little paw dug deep in her husband's purse. Here are two ducks of
kiddies living with governesses and nurses over on a Jersey estate and
pining for the higher female touch. Here am I with a batch of verses
going quite innocently into Mr. Burke's office--he's an editor, you
know--and he buys my stuff and howls for more. I grow white and thin
providing more, and in weak moments show my beautiful inner soul to him.
He, being a gentleman and an understanding one, asks me out to Jersey,
and those children just cram into the hungry corners of my life. They
play with me; they--they"--here a subtle touch of truth struck through
Patricia's ironic tones--"they _teach_ me to play. Haven't I a right to
snatch--what was snatched from me?"

Sylvia cried out: "Rot!" But Joan made no reply.

Often would Sylvia, deeply serious, urge Patricia to turn her talents to
designing.

"Verses only take you near danger, Pat, dear," she would say; "and look
at the things you can make for people! Why, dear, you bring out all
their good points."

"You would have me stick my precious little soul full of needles and
pins? Oh! you black-hearted creature. Not on your life, Syl! Designing
is my job--it gets enough for me to fly on--but I mean to fly! And as I
fly, I pause to sip and feed, but fly I must."

For Joan, Patricia felt a strange attraction. The child that was so
persistent in Joan appealed to Patricia while it irritated her.

"She'll get hurt if she doesn't grow up!" the girl thought, and began at
once rather crude forcing measures.

"A professional woman," she imparted to Joan, "is a different breed from
the household pet--you must learn to scrimmage for yourself and take
what helps your profession. You cannot stop and nurse the _you_ of you.
One's Art is the thing. Now love helps--love the whole world, Joan, it
keeps you young. Play with it, but don't make the mistake of letting it
take you in. The thing that threatens Sylvia is her--Plain John!"

Joan and Patricia laughed now. Sylvia's love affair was tenderly
old-fashioned. Her man was on the Pacific Coast, making ready for her;
she was going to keep right on with her work--her John had planned her
studio before he had the house!

"'Love and fly!' is my motto," Patricia rambled on; "fly while the
flying is good. Get your wings clipped, and where are you? Sylvia wi