ry and the few
stray sous left in him would clink dismally against his ribs; and again
he would be bursting with silver, paper and copper. Sometimes he would
have to suspend payment until he could negotiate his I. O. T.'s., and
sometimes when the week was up and all outstanding bills settled, he
would be so affluent that he would treat the whole crowd to the theater
or give a party to the friends in the Latin Quarter. Many a jest was
made at his expense and sometimes Mrs. Brown and Judy, both of them able
to quote Shakespeare at any point, would give whole pages of "Twelfth
Night," impersonating the immortal Sir Toby and Sir Andrew Ague-cheek
and the naughty Maria.

Our friends went to many studio teas during their stay in Paris, but the
first one with their erratic neighbor, Miss Jo Bill, they never forgot.
Her studio was the size of their own but had no apartment attached. The
hostess slept in a balcony, similar to the one Judy and Molly occupied,
and her housekeeping and sleeping arrangements were much in evidence.
Molly, going over ahead of the others to take the three tea cups
requested, found Miss Williams washing her own five cups with their
varied assortment of saucers and clearing off a table littered with
papers and magazines, preparatory to placing the alcohol lamp, kettle
and teapot thereon.

"Do let me help you," begged Molly. "Where is your tea towel? I can wipe
the cups."

"Tea towel!" exclaimed Miss Williams. "Why, I don't possess such a
thing! If the water is good and hot and clean, you don't need a towel.
Just let the dishes drain. It is much more sanitary. Towels are awful
germ harborers. But if you want to help, you might straighten up this
table. Don't ask for a cloth or you will embarrass me."

Molly accordingly went to work and got order out of chaos in a short
while. She piled the papers and magazines neatly on a shelf; emptied the
teapot of its former drawing of leaves; washed and rinsed it; filled the
kettle with fresh water; and replenished the alcohol lamp from a bottle
of wood alcohol she found on the shelf.

"Well, if you aren't a peach, Miss Brown!" said the admiring Jo Bill. "I
bet you are dying to go up on my roost and clear it out some. I was
going to let it alone hoping to make it so interesting _en bas_ that no
one would glance up; but if you feel a calling to go up there and stir
around a little, you are welcome."

Molly was itching to get her hands on the balcony, which remin