not
realize that there are three widths of lead from which to select; it is
not always easy to choose for every part of the design the thickness
which will look the best. For instance, sometimes the leading will be
too strong and overwhelm the picture; again it will be too weak and
render the window characterless."

"It must be a fascinating puzzle to work out," mused Miss Cartright.

"Yes; but it is also a great test of the patience."

"Were the old glass windows made in this same way, do you suppose?"
asked Jean after a pause.

"I presume the old glass-makers worked along the same general plan,
although they may not have followed exactly the present-day methods;
certain it is, however, that they knew all the many tricks or devices
for getting color effects--knew them far better than we do now. And
they put endless time and thought into their work, no artist feeling it
beneath his dignity to follow the humblest detail of his conception. He
watched over his art-child until it got to be full-grown. This is the
only way to get fine results. For, you see, there is no set rule for a
glass designer to apply. Each window presents a fresh problem in the
management of light and color. There is no branch of art more elusive
or more difficult than this. I must be able to construct a window which
will be satisfactory as a flat piece of decoration; it must be
sufficiently interesting to give pleasure even when it stands in a dim
light. Then presto--the sun moves round, and my window is transformed!
And in the flood of light that passes through it I must still be able
to find it beautiful."

"I think that I should like to learn to make stained glass," declared
Giusippe, who had become so absorbed that he had moved close beside Mr.
Norcross.

"Would you?"

The artist smiled down kindly at him. "In your country you have many a
fine example of glass. France, too, is rich in rose windows which are
the despair of our modern craftsmen. But we glass-makers are working
hard and earnestly, and who knows but in time we may give to the world
such glass as is at Rheims, Tours, Amiens, and Chartres."

"What sort of paint do you use?" asked Mr. Cabot as he took up a brush
and idly examined it in his fingers.

"A kind of opaque enamel containing fusible material which is melted by
heat and thereafter adheres to the surface of the glass. It must,
however, be used carefully, as it possesses so much body that too much
of it will obscure t