ming passion for making puddings and darning
socks, I hear. Alice says she believes Mrs. Cyril knows every dish and
spoon by its Christian name, and that there's never so much as a spool
of thread out of order in the house."

"But how does Cyril stand it--the trials and tribulations of domestic
life? Bertram used to declare that the whole Strata was aquiver with
fear when Cyril was composing, and I remember him as a perfect bear if
anybody so much as whispered when he was in one of his moods. I never
forgot the night Bertram and I were up in William's room trying to sing
'When Johnnie comes marching home,' to the accompaniment of a banjo
in Bertram's hands, and a guitar in mine. Gorry! it was Hugh that went
marching home that night."

"Oh, well, from reports I reckon Mrs. Cyril doesn't play either a banjo
or a guitar," smiled Arkwright. "Alice says she wears rubber heels on
her shoes, and has put hushers on all the chair-legs, and felt-mats
between all the plates and saucers. Anyhow, Cyril is building a new
house, and he looks as if he were in a pretty healthy condition, as
you'll see to-morrow night."

"Humph! I wish he'd make his music healthy, then," grumbled Calderwell,
as he opened the door.

CHAPTER XII. FOR BILLY--SOME ADVICE

February brought busy days. The public opening of the Bohemian Ten Club
Exhibition was to take place the sixth of March, with a private view
for invited guests the night before; and it was at this exhibition that
Bertram planned to show his portrait of Marguerite Winthrop. He also, if
possible, wished to enter two or three other canvases, upon which he was
spending all the time he could get.

Bertram felt that he was doing very good work now. The portrait of
Marguerite Winthrop was coming on finely. The spoiled idol of society
had at last found a pose and a costume that suited her, and she was
graciously pleased to give the artist almost as many sittings as he
wanted. The "elusive something" in her face, which had previously been
so baffling, was now already caught and held bewitchingly on his canvas.
He was confident that the portrait would be a success. He was also much
interested in another piece of work which he intended to show called
"The Rose." The model for this was a beautiful young girl he had found
selling flowers with her father in a street booth at the North End.

On the whole, Bertram was very happy these days. He could not, to
be sure, spend quite so much time