y, but I suspect that she blamed me
strongly for the whole occurrence. Doubtless, I ought not to have looked
at that paper, I should not have spoken of it, and my permitting Frances
to go to Jersey had been a sinful act of mine.

But, after all, Frieda is the best old girl in the world, I believe and
declare. She patted my shoulder as if I had promised her never to be
wicked again, and permitted me to see her home, as some snow had fallen
and she was dreadfully afraid of slipping. I prevailed on her to accept
pair of old rubbers of mine and, once in the street, she grasped my arm
with a determination that left a blue mark next day.

"So she is going again to the studio," she said, after I had piloted her
to her flat, which she invited me to invade. "Do you really think that
Gordon has the slightest idea that he can improve on that first
picture?"

"I suppose that he just hopes to," I replied. "Whenever I begin a new
story, I haven't the slightest idea whether it will be good or not.
Sometimes, I don't even know after it is finished. Take the 'Land o'
Love,' for instance; I really thought it a good piece of work, but
Jamieson looks positively gloomy about it."

"He must be a very silly man," said Frieda, unswerving in her loyalty to
me, but swiftly changing the subject. "Baby Paul is becoming very heavy.
He'll be seven months old, come next Friday, and Frances looks
dreadfully tired. It is hard for her to take him every day to that
studio and back."

"I could get up early in the morning and help her," I suggested
recklessly.

"And then you could wait outside for two or three hours and help her
back," she laughed. "No, Dave, it isn't so bad as all that. But I'm
afraid she's badly discouraged. That little Dr. Porter is still fiddling
away at her throat, training it, he calls it, but she's not a bit
better. In fact, she thinks it's getting worse. And she says she can
never pay him for all he's done and she might as well stop going. On
Sunday morning he says he's going to do something to it, that may hurt a
little, and she's afraid. She asked me to go with her."

"I'll go with you, if she will let me and Porter doesn't chase me out,"
I proposed. "I have great confidence in that boy."

"So have I, but he hasn't assured her that it will bring her voice
back."

I told her that this showed the man was not a cocksure humbug, and
expressed fervent hopes as to the result, after which Frieda made a
disreputable bundle of