The next day they inaugurated the plan. Jane had an early breakfast, before Jerry was up, bathed and fed baby, and left him asleep on the balcony. Then she fled to her haven, worked until a few minutes before eleven, when she went back to the studio. From then until lunch time she could revise, or work over her first draft, but for the first process, she still had quiet and her own free soul. The first few days the scheme worked beautifully. The fourth day, Jerry Jr. awoke at nine-thirty, and all efforts to induce him to sleep, on the part of his parent and Anna, were in vain. Jane found Jerry pushing the baby carriage up and down the studio furiously. He was hot, flushed, and mad. "Oh, did he waken?" "Did he? He's been acting like the devil for hours." "That's too bad." "Where do you go for all these hours, Jane? You can't walk all this time." "Have I ever asked what you do with your time, Jerry?" "I don't expect you to do my work." "Do you feel that you are doing my work when you share the care of our baby for three hours a day?" "It's no man's work, pushing a baby carriage." "If you feel demeaned by looking after our son, I shall certainly not ask your help again." "It's no fun, trying to keep him quiet." "No. I've discovered that." She took their protesting offspring upstairs without more words. But the next day she did not go to her work. When Jerry finished his late breakfast, he found her in the studio. "You still here?" he asked. She nodded cheerfully. "Aren't you late getting off?" "I'm not going out." "Why not?" "I thought we decided that yesterday." "I didn't know we decided anything." "You were very definite in your complaint that I shirked my duties upon you." "Can't Anna take care of him in the morning?" "No. She has all she can manage." "When are you going to get your exercise?" "Naturally I cannot take any, unless I push the baby carriage." "Good Lord! Go get your things on. I'll watch him." "Thank you, Jerry, but I cannot accept sacrifices. It must be your job and mine, and nobody abused." "I thought it over last night. I agree. Your job and mine; nobody abused. Now, scat." "Much obliged, Jerry; that's fair and square." This time the agreement held. Jerry learned to handle the occasional outbursts of his son without calling for help. In the meantime Jane's work was growing. Martin Christiansen returned after a month away from town, and Jane sent him a dozen chapters of the rewritten version. It brought him to the studio, post haste. Jerry was painting, so they sat alone in the reception-room. "But, Jane, what has happened to you?" he demanded. "Life, experience, marriage, baby; all the big things have happened to me since I began that book. I'm only just beginning to be _me_, Martin."