been
considered worthy of a cast and extracted sacredly a bit of plaster
which she found between the toes, and Antony Fairfax limped home to the
House that Jack Built, his heavy step lighter for the fairy foot, the
snow-white, perfect little foot he carried triumphantly in his pocket.

CHAPTER X

He was too sincerely an artist not to make pictures of all he saw, and,
being sincere, he made his lines true, and then outlined the sketch,
softening, moulding, moulding.... His aunt's gentle inefficiency (she
was kind to him, affectionate, and called him "her dear boy") was to
Fairfax only charming, feminine softness, and he grew fond of Mrs.
Carew, indulgent to her faults, listened half convinced to her
arguments, admired her in her multitudinous toilettes, in all of which
she was original, found her lovely and graceful. Her eyes were
deer-like--not those of a startled fawn, but like a doe's who stands
gazing at a perfect park, whose bosks she takes to be real forests. Mrs.
Carew knew absolutely nothing of life. Fairfax at twenty-three, knew
less of it, and he could not criticize her vision. He saw his uncle
through Bella's eyes, but he never passed the master of the house in the
halls, taking good care to escape him. It was not easy to associate fear
with Bella; her father had not impressed her free mind with this
sentiment.

"Father," she told Antony, "is the most important man in New York City,
the cook said so. He might be President, but he doesn't want to; he
likes his own work best. Father's work is making money, and he quite
understands how hard such a thing is. That is why there is so little in
the house, Cousin Antony. Even the cook hadn't a cent when I asked her
to lend me a penny. We used to have five cents a week, but now mother
has to be so careful that we're hard up. It's awful when there are
treats on, Cousin Antony, because you see, you ought to do your share.
That is why Gardiner and I always stick around together and say we don't
like children.... No," she said firmly, "I really _couldn't_ take five
cents, Cousin Antony; thank you ever so much. We're bound in honour not
to; we promised never to take from a stranger; yes, I know you're not a
stranger, and I forget to whom we promised, but I really couldn't,
Cousin Antony."

Mrs. Carew could, however. One day, on her way to the magic car, as it
waited with its lean horses and jingle-jangle to take the lady
"sharping," that day she borrowed two d