y things among
them, if one only has eyes to see them. It makes me grateful and
contented, shows me how rich I am, and keeps me ready to do all I can
for these poor souls."

"My good Polly!" and Fanny gave her friends arm an affectionate squeeze,
wondering if it was this alone that had worked the change in Polly.

"You have seen two of my new friends, Miss Mills and Jenny, now I 'll
show you two more," said Polly, presently, as they reached a door, and
she led the way up several flights of public stairs. "Rebecca Jeffrey
is a regularly splendid girl, full of talent; she won't let us call it
genius; she will be famous some day, I know, she is so modest, and yet
so intent on her work. Lizzie Small is an engraver, and designs the most
delightful little pictures. Becky and she live together, and take care
of one another in true Damon and Pythias style. This studio is their
home, they work, eat, sleep, and live here, going halves in everything.
They are all alone in the world, but as happy and independent as birds;
real friends, whom nothing will part."

"Let a lover come between them, and their friendship won't last long,"
said Fanny.

"I think it will. Take a look at them, and you 'll change your mind,"
answered Polly, tapping at a door, on which two modest cards were
tacked.

"Come in!" said a voice, and obeying, Fanny found herself in a large,
queerly furnished room, lighted from above, and occupied by two girls.
One stood before a great clay figure, in a corner. This one was tall,
with a strong face, keen eyes, short, curly hair, and a fine head.
Fanny was struck at once by this face and figure, though the one was
not handsome, and the other half hidden by a great pinafore covered with
clay. At a table where the light was clearest, sat a frail-looking girl,
with a thin face, big eyes, and pale hair, a dreamy, absorbed little
person, who bent over a block, skillfully wielding her tools.

"Becky and Bess, how do you do? This is my friend, Fanny Shaw. We are
out on a rampage; so go on with your work, and let us lazy ones look on
and admire."

As Polly spoke, both girls looked up and nodded, smilingly; Bess gave
Fan the one easy-chair; Becky took an artistic survey of the new-comer,
with eyes that seemed to see everything; then each went on with her
work, and all began to talk.

"You are just what I want, Polly. Pull up your sleeve, and give me an
arm while you sit; the muscles here are n't right, and you 've got