“Noodles and Justine and I kept house,” Bab put in significantly. “And, my dear, talk about temperament! We had no regular meals at all, and Justine says if you show her crackers and pimento cheese again for a year, she’ll just simply die in her tracks. Mother has fed us up beautifully since she came. Real substantial food, you know, fixed up differently, Mother fashion.” “Yes, and they didn’t think they needed me at all, Jean. Somehow a mother doesn’t go with a studio equipment, but this one does, and now everyone in the building troops down to visit us. They all need mothering now.” It was one of the smaller brick buildings off Sixth Avenue on Fifty-Seventh Street. There had been a garage on the first floor, but Vatelli, the sculptor, had turned it into a work room with a wife and three little Vatellis to make it cosy. The second floor was the Cranes’ apartment, one very large room and two small ones. The two floors above were divided into one- and two-room studios. It looked very unpretentious from the outside, but within everything was delightfully attractive. The ceiling was beamed in dark oak, and a wide fireplace with a crackling wood fire made Jean almost feel as if she were back home. There were wide Dutch shelves around the room and cushioned seats along the walls. An old fashioned three-cornered piano stood crosswise at one end, and there were several oak settees and cupboards. At the windows hung art scrim curtains next the panes, and within, heavy dark red ones that shut out the night. Noodles came barking to meet them, a regular dowager of a Belgian griffon, plump and consequential, with big brown eyes and a snub nose. And smiling archly, with her eyes sparkling, Justine stood with arms akimbo. She had been Bab’s nurse years before in France, and had watched over her ever since. Jean loved the tall, dark-browed Brittany woman. In her quick efficient way, she managed Bab as nobody else could. No one ever looked upon Justine as a servant. She was distinctly “family,” and Jean was kissed soundly on both rosy cheeks and complimented volubly on her improved appearance. “It’s just the country air and plenty of exercise, Justine,” she said. “Ah, but yes, the happy heart too, gives that look,” Justine answered shrewdly. “I know. I have it myself in Brittany. One minute, I have something warm to eat.” She was gone into the inner room humming to herself, with Noodles tagging at her high heels. “Now take off your things and toast,” Bab said. “There aren’t any bedrooms excepting Mother’s in yonder. She will have a practical bedroom to sleep in, but we’ll curl up on the couches out here, and Justine has one. Oh, Jean, come and sing for me this minute.”