t? I'm glad you recognise the beauty of truth
spoken in defiance of conventional modesty."

"Oh, yes, I do think if one is talented, it is silly to deny it."

"It is. That is why our people are so frankly sane and honest about
their own achievements----"

"And yet, you're so modest,--I mayn't show your verses!"

"That's a different matter. You know those were for your eyes alone."

"I know. I will keep them for myself."

The Studio of the Blaneys in the city was much like the one Patty had
seen at Lakewood, only a little more elaborately bizarre. The Moorish
lamps were bigger and dustier: the thick brocade draperies a little
more faded and tattered; the furniture a little more gilded and wobbly.

Alla came gliding to greet Patty, and gave her an enthusiastic welcome.

"You darling!" she cried, "you _very_ darling! Look at her, everybody!
Look! Gloat over this bit of perfect perfection! Did you ever _see_
anything so wonderful?"

Alla had led Patty to the middle of the room, and she now turned her
round and round, like a dressmaker exhibiting a model.

Patty felt no embarrassment, for the people all about accepted the
exhibition as a matter of course, and gazed at her in smiling
approbation. Moreover, all the guests were dressed as unconventionally
as Patty, and even more so. There were more queer costumes than she
had seen at the Lakewood party, more weird effects of hairdressing and
more eccentric posing and posturing. The New York branch of these
Bohemians were evidently farther advanced in their cult than the others
she had seen.

A little bewildered, Patty allowed herself to be ensconced on a crimson
and gold Davenport, and listened to a rattle of conversation that was
partly intelligible, and partly, it seemed to her, absolute nonsense.

"I am exploiting this gem," Alla announced, indicating Patty herself as
the "gem." "She hasn't quite found herself yet,--but she will soon
command the range of the whole emotional spectrum! She is a wonder!
Her soul is stuffed to bursting with dynamic force! We must train her,
educate her, show her, gently guide her dancing feet in the paths of
beauty,--in the star-strewn paths of cosmic beauty."

"We will!" shouted a dozen voices. "What can she do?"

"Dance," replied Alla. "But such dancing! She is a will-o'-the-wisp,
a pixie, a thistledown, a butterfly!"

"All those and more," said Sam Blaney. "She is a velvet angel, a
rose-coloured leaf in th