peep in people's windows, just to see homes!

"After my father died, I rustled about on the little money he left, and
I got to sneaking into other women's homes. I didn't mean harm at first,
but after awhile it seemed so easy to sneak and so hard to--make good!
But down in my heart, as truly as God hears me, I've been homesick
for--what I never had."

"Pat! Of all things--you are crying!" Joan looked frightened.

"Well, let me cry!" sniveled Patricia. "I've never given myself that
luxury, either."

For a moment there was silence broken only by Patricia's sniffs. Then:

"What do your folks say about it, Joan?"

"I haven't sent the big letter yet--it's written. I don't want them to
say anything until I'm fixed. I only told them of our leaving New York."

"Whew!" ejaculated Patricia. "You certainly run your career
free-handed."

"Aunt Dorrie will take it like the darling she is," Joan mused on, "and
she'll make Nan and Doctor Martin see it. When she gave me my chance she
did not tie a string to me--not even the string of her love. We
understand each other perfectly."

"I suppose you know," Patricia gave a sigh, "but I don't think an
explanation would hurt any and I don't want her to blame me more than I
deserve, Joan."

"Blame you, Pat? Why, how could she?"

"Oh, I don't know. She might get to thinking on her own hook if you
don't give her the facts. Joan, send the letter at once!"

So Joan dispatched the letter, and it had the effect of depressing Nancy
to an alarming degree and, in consequence, of spurring Doris to renewed
effort.

She was perturbed by the lack of what she knew. She had her doubts of
Patricia; the sudden flight had an aspect of rout--what did it mean?

Her reply to Joan, however, was much what Martin's would have been to
his nephew.

She accepted and took on faith what Joan had explained--or failed to
explain.

She laid emphasis on plans for the coming winter and referred to Joan's
promise to give herself seriously to her music.

"Either in New York or there, my dear, begin your real work. It is all
well enough to look about before you decide, but there is a time for
decision."

This letter put Joan on her mettle.

"Pat, I'm going to begin as soon as we've settled," she declared, and
her wet eyes shone. "Aunt Dorrie is quite right."

The girls finally secured four pretty, sunny rooms overlooking the lake,
and reverently selected the furniture for them.

"Let's get things artis