etty Harris sat in the big window, bending over her gods
and goddesses and temples and ruins. It was months since, under the
inspiration of the mysterious, fruit-dealing Greek, she had begun her
study of Greek art; and the photographs gathered from every source--were
piled high in the window--prints and tiny replicas and casts, and
pictures of every kind and size--they overflowed into the great room
beyond. She was busy now, pasting the photographs into a big book.
To-morrow the family started for the country, and only as many gods
could go as could be pasted in the book. Miss Stone had decreed it and
what Miss Stone said must be done.... Betty Harris looked anxiously at
Poseidon, and laid him down, in favour of Zeus. She took him up in her
fingers again, with a little flourish of the paste-tube, and made him
fast. Poseidon must go, too. The paste-tub wavered uncertainly over the
maze of gods and found another and stuck it in place, and lifted itself
in admiring delight.

There was a little rustle, and the child looked up. Miss Stone stood in
the doorway, smiling at her.

"I'm making my book for the gods," said the child, her flushed face
lighting. "It's a kind of home for them." She slipped down from her
chair and came across, holding the book outstretched before her. "You
see I've put Poseidon in. He never had a home--except just the sea, of
course--a kind of wet home." She gave the god a little pat, regarding
him fondly.

Miss Stone bent above the book, with the smile of understanding that
always lay between them. When Betty Harris thought about God, he seemed
always, somehow, like Miss Stone's smile--but bigger--because he filled
the whole earth. She lifted her hand and stroked the cheek bending above
her book. "I'm making a place for them all," she said. "It's a kind of
story--" She drew a sigh of quick delight.

Miss Stone closed the book decisively, touching the flushed face with
her fingers. "Put it away, child--and the pictures. We're going to
drive."

"Yes--Nono." It was her own pet name for Miss Stone, and she gave a
little quick nod, closing the book with happy eyes. But she waited a
moment, lugging the book to her and looking at the scattered gods in the
great window, before she walked demurely across and began gathering them
up--a little puzzled frown between her eyes. "I suppose I couldn't leave
them scattered around?" she suggested politely.

Miss Stone smiled a little head-shake, and the child be