ke manna into his famished state. His mother's gift gave him courage
to rise early and to work late, and the silver sang in his waistcoat
pockets again, and he paid his little ladies, thanking them graciously
for their patience; he sent his aunt a bunch of flowers, bought an image
of the Virgin for old Ann, a box of colours for Gardiner, and a book for
Bella.

Then Antony, passing over the threshold of the workshop, was swallowed
up by art.

And he paid for his salt!

How valuable he was to Cedersholm those days he discovered some ten
years later. Perched on his high stool at the drawing-table, his
materials before him, he drew in freehand what his ideas suggested. The
third day he went with Cedersholm to the palace of Rudolph Field on
Fifth Avenue to inspect the rooms to be decorated. Fairfax went into the
"Castle of the Chinking Guineas" (as he called it in writing to his
mother), as buoyantly as though he had not a leaking boot on one foot
and a bill for a cheap suit of clothes in his pocket. He mentally ranged
his visions on the frieze he was to consider, and as he thought, his own
stature seemed to rise gigantic in the vast salon. He was alone with
Cedersholm. The Fields were in Europe, not to return until the palace
had been made beautiful.

Cedersholm planned out his scheme rather vaguely, discoursing on a
commonplace theme, indicating ceilings and walls, and Fairfax heard him
through his own meditations. He impulsively caught the Master's arm, and
himself pointing, "Just there," he said, "why not...." And when he had
finished, Cedersholm accepted, but without warmth.

"Perfectly. You have caught my suggestions, Mr. Fairfax," and poor
Antony shut his lips over his next flight.

In the same week Cedersholm left for Florida, and Fairfax, in the
deserted studio, sketched and modelled _a sa faim_, as the French say,
as old Professor Dufaucon used to say, and as the English say, less
materially, "to his soul's content." February went by in this fashion,
and Fairfax was only conscious of it when the day came round that he
must pay his board and had nothing to do it with. Cedersholm was to
return in a few days, and he would surely be reimbursed--to what extent
he had no notion. His excitement rose high as he took an inventory of
his work, of his essays and drawings and bas-reliefs, his projects for
the ceiling of the music room. At one time his labour seemed of the best
quality, and then again so poor, so abortiv