ul blue eyes following the irrational gambols of the
tortoise-shell cat, Strindberg, who had gone loco, as usual, and was
tearing up and down trees, prancing sideways with flattened ears and
crooked tail, in terror at things invisible, or digging furiously
toward China amid the hyacinths.

Dulcie Soane came out into the court presently and expostulated with
Strindberg, who suffered herself to be removed from the hyacinth bed,
only to make a hysterical charge on her mistress's ankles.

"Stop it, you crazy thing!" insisted Dulcie, administering a gentle
slap which sent the cat bucketing and corvetting across the lawn,
where the eccentric course of a dead leaf, blown by the April wind,
instantly occupied its entire intellectual vacuum.

Barres, leaning on the window-sill, said, without raising his voice:

"Hello, Dulcie! How are you, after our party?"

The child looked up, smiled shyly her response through the pale glory
of the April sunshine.

"What are you doing to-day?" he inquired, with casual but friendly
interest.

"Nothing."

"Isn't there any school?"

"It's Saturday."

"That's so. Well, if you're doing nothing you're just as busy as I
am," he remarked, smiling down at her where she stood below his
window.

"Why don't you paint pictures?" ventured the girl diffidently.

"Because I haven't any orders. Isn't that sad?"

"Yes.... But you could paint a picture just to please yourself,
couldn't you?"

"I haven't anybody to paint from," he explained with amiable
indifference, lazily watching the effect of alternate shadow and
sunlight on her upturned face.

"Couldn't you find--somebody?" Her heart had suddenly begun to beat
very fast.

Barres laughed:

"Would you like to have your portrait painted?"

She could scarcely find voice to reply:

"Will you--let me?"

The slim young figure down there in the April sunshine had now
arrested his professional attention. With detached interest he
inspected her for a few moments; then:

"You'd make an interesting study, Dulcie. What do you say?"

"Do--do you mean that you _want_ me?"

"Why--yes! Would you like to pose for me? It's pin-money, anyway.
Would you like to try it?"

"Y-yes."

"Are you quite sure? It's hard work."

"Quite--sure----" she stammered. The little flushed face was lifted
very earnestly to his now, almost beseechingly. "I am quite sure," she
repeated breathlessly.

"So you'd really like to pose for me?" he insisted in smiling