I remember. He's an art
critic for the _Belton City Star_."

"I don't believe a man with his disposition could have a speck of
judgment," Susan said irritably.

A soft, musical laugh caused them both to turn quickly. Directly
behind stood the same girl they had noticed upon first entering the
exhibition hall. She was slender and dark and wore her shining black
hair in a becoming coil at the back of her neck.

"I couldn't help hearing what you said about Mr. Cron," the girl
declared, regarding them with twinkling eyes, "and I do hope you're
wrong. How dreadful it would be if he should award the five thousand
dollar prize to some inferior piece of work--such as this silly Black
Imp, for instance."

"Why, we think it's the best figure here," Penny said in some surprise.
"Don't you consider Amy Coulter a good sculptress?"

"Only moderately so. The girl works hard and is pathetically
ambitious, but it takes more than that to win a prize."

"You seem to know Miss Coulter well," Penny remarked.

"Yes, indeed. I might call myself her best friend."

"Are you an artist?" Susan questioned. Before the other could respond,
a nicely dressed woman paused for a moment to admire the Black Imp.

"You are to be congratulated, Miss Coulter," she said, addressing the
girl. "Your work has power. It deserves to win the prize."

The woman moved on and Penny and Susan found themselves staring at
their new acquaintance in amazement.

"Are you Amy Coulter?" Penny gasped.

The girl smilingly admitted that she was. "I wanted to learn what you
really thought of my little figure," she declared.

Penny and Susan assured her again that they liked it better than any
piece they had seen.

"You don't look a bit like I imagined a famous sculptress would," Susan
said, slightly in awe.

"Perhaps that's because I'm not famous."

"You will be after the prize award is announced," Penny assured her.
"Everyone is saying your entry is the best."

"I do think the Black Imp is good," the girl admitted slowly. "Of
course I was only joking about it a moment ago. I've labored over it
for months and it's my best work. I'm hoping--almost praying that I'll
win the prize. The money would mean everything to me."

Before either Penny or Susan could speak, an elderly woman clapped her
hands sharply together to attract attention. Immediately the room
became quiet.

"If you will kindly find seats, the program will start," the woman
announ