ned, redundant figure of the monitor.

Patricia's stand, with its heavy curved iron head-piece and some
lengths of copper and lead wire, was waiting for her in the clay room,
and together they wheeled it into the modeling room, where the gloomy
Miss Green scanned them with kind but somber eyes, plainly regarding
their entrance as an interruption.

"You've got to make butterflies of the wire-loops, you know, to hold
the clay up, or it'll slump down off the iron headpiece soon as you get
your head set up," explained her instructor in an agreeable tone.
"It's easier to set up a head than a figure, I can tell you----"

"_Miss Griffin!_" came the dreary voice of the monitor, as with a fat
and dimpled finger she pointed solemnly to the sign on the door, "No
TALKING."

Griffin grinned amiably at the reproving finger. "Only the necessary
instructions to a novice, Green dear," she protested smoothly. "I'm
saving you the trouble of showing her how. You really ought to thank
me instead of holding me up to scorn."

Miss Green, with a kindly glance at Patricia, puckered up her lips in
the circle that only fat, soft-fleshed people can accomplish and laid
the impartial finger on them as a sign that no more words were to be
wasted, and the class, temporarily attentive to the newcomers, became
absorbed again.

A heavy-shouldered dark man, whose workmanlike appearance was
heightened by the torn and spotted linen apron he wore, came quietly
over to Patricia, and, taking the wire from Miss Griffin's thin,
nervous hands, silently and swiftly finished the work she had begun,
while she, with a nod of acquiescence, went to her own stand and began
to thump lumps of clay into shape about her own iron head-piece.

Patricia accepted the help as silently as it was offered, and when he
brought her clay and, still mute, showed her how to block the rough
clay into a semblance of a human head, she smiled at him with ready
gratitude, not daring more for fear of the omnipotent Miss Green.

"How do you like it now?" asked Griffin, as the gong released them for
the rest, and they slipped out in the corridor to look for Elinor.

"Perfectly fine and dandy!" cried Patricia, glowing. "My word, but
that Miss Green is severe! I never _heard_ such silence as in that
room. Why, an ordinary schoolroom is a perfect Babel compared to it."

"You'll get used to old Bottle Green, all right," said Griffin
reassuringly. "Her bark is a whole lot worse tha