en up. Somehow it
takes the shine off of everything. People want Jessie Darcey and the
kind of thing she does; so what's the use?"

Mrs. Harsanyi smiled. "That stile you must simply vault over. You must
not begin to fret about the successes of cheap people. After all,
what have they to do with you?"

"Well, if I had somebody like Mr. Harsanyi, perhaps I wouldn't fret
about them. He was the teacher for me. Please tell him so."

Thea rose and Mrs. Harsanyi took her hand again. "I am sorry you have to
go through this time of discouragement. I wish Andor could talk to you,
he would understand it so well. But I feel like urging you to keep clear
of Mrs. Priest and Jessie Darcey and all their works."

Thea laughed discordantly. "No use urging me. I don't get on with them
AT ALL. My spine gets like a steel rail when they come near me. I liked
them at first, you know. Their clothes and their manners were so fine,
and Mrs. Priest IS handsome. But now I keep wanting to tell them how
stupid they are. Seems like they ought to be informed, don't you think
so?" There was a flash of the shrewd grin that Mrs. Harsanyi remembered.
Thea pressed her hand. "I must go now. I had to give my lesson hour this
morning to a Duluth woman who has come on to coach, and I must go and
play 'On Mighty Pens' for her. Please tell Mr. Harsanyi that I think
oratorio is a great chance for bluffers."

Mrs. Harsanyi detained her. "But he will want to know much more than
that about you. You are free at seven? Come back this evening, then, and
we will go to dinner somewhere, to some cheerful place. I think you need
a party."

Thea brightened. "Oh, I do! I'll love to come; that will be like old
times. You see," she lingered a moment, softening, "I wouldn't mind if
there were only ONE of them I could really admire."

"How about Bowers?" Mrs. Harsanyi asked as they were approaching the
stairway.

"Well, there's nothing he loves like a good fakir, and nothing he hates
like a good artist. I always remember something Mr. Harsanyi said about
him. He said Bowers was the cold muffin that had been left on the
plate."

Mrs. Harsanyi stopped short at the head of the stairs and said
decidedly: "I think Andor made a mistake. I can't believe that is the
right atmosphere for you. It would hurt you more than most people. It's
all wrong."

"Something's wrong," Thea called back as she clattered down the stairs
in her high heels.

II

DURING that winter The