ame and
everything that did not bring in immediate aids. It was only during the
late years that he had made his name known in New York. He had been
working in Rome, and during the past three years his expositions had
made him enormously talked of. He would not have dined at the Carews'
without a reason. Henry Carew was something of a figure in the Century
Club. His pretence to dilettantism was not small. But Cedersholm had not
foreseen what a wretched dinner he would be called on to eat. Cooked by
a woman hired in for the day, half cold and wholly poor, Mr. Carew's
banquet was far from being the magnificent feast it seemed in Bella's
eyes. Somewhat cheered by his cigar and liqueur, Cedersholm found a seat
in a small reception room out of earshot of his host and hostess, and,
in company with Canon Prynne of Albany, managed to pass an agreeable
half hour.

The Canon agreed with the Swede--he had never heard a bird sing so
divinely.

"I told Mrs. Carew she should throw a scarf over the cage. The blackbird
will sing his heart out."

The sculptor took up his conversation with his friend where he had left
it in the dining-room. He had been speaking of a recent commission given
him by the city for an important piece of work to be done for Central
Park.

"You know, Canon, we have succeeded in bringing to the port of New York
the Abydos Sphinx--a marvellous, gigantic creature. It is to be placed
in Central Park, in the Mall."

This, Canon Prynne had heard. "The base pedestal and fixtures are to be
yours, Cedersholm?"

The sculptor nodded. "Yes, and manual labour such as this is tremendous.
If I were in France, now, or in Italy, I could find chaps to help me. As
it is, I work alone." After a pause, he said, "However, I like the sole
responsibility."

"Now, I am not sure," returned his companion, "whether it is well to
like too sole a responsibility. As far as _I_ am concerned, no sooner do
I think myself important than I discover half a dozen persons in my
environment to whom I am doing a wrong, if I do not invite them to share
my glory."

There was no one in the small room to which the gentlemen had withdrawn,
and their chat was suddenly interrupted by a small, clear voice asking,
"Is this Mr. Cedersholm?" Neither guest had seen steal into the room and
slip from the shadow to where they sat, a little girl, slender,
overgrown, in a ridiculously short dress, ridiculous shoes and
stockings, her arms full of treasures, h