So the days grew longer and sweeter and the little after-dinner group in the garden grew bigger--think of the excitement of the day when the lawyer brought home the architect and his timid wife! They came to live in Maman's room, the room that Felice had intended to keep for herself. But you'll know presently why she gave it to them. You remember it was only one flight up. He was a young architect well able to climb but Mrs. Architect couldn't. And he was a very new architect. Felice said staunchly that she wouldn't think of having an old fat successful architect around, that he'd be bored with all the small jobs the house needed, but this obliging young one, now HE was quite willing to work hours over where new bathrooms might go--if they ever had any tub money, or where old lattices could be replaced--if they ever had any lattice money. You see the idea was that he could pay his room rent architecting, a "vairee practical" idea Felice assured Janet. But Janet sniffed. Everybody brought somebody else. Janet didn't approve of any of them but she did love them all! That was the unanswerable argument about all these persons who flocked to the house in Montrose Place--they were so lovable! Such buoyant souls, who hadn't quite gotten a grip on life but were pathetically sure that once they did--! They triumphantly felt that the fact they'd been starving mostly, helped to prove their genius. Though Felice could never see it that way. Long after the rest were in bed she used to walk passionately up and down Mademoiselle's tiny room. "They're all starlings singing that they can't get out--it's not fair --not a bit right--they ought not to starve, they ought not to freeze. And folks who say so are stupid! You can't grow roses like weeds--just anywhere! And they're going to be the roses in the garden of world-- they ought to be in the sun, they ought to be watched so carefully-- why can't the stupid old world see it! But it doesn't. It just tramples and chokes and freezes them until it's a wonder they evaire do blossom at all. And di-_rectly_ they do--the world's surprised--huh-- I should think it would be! It's not fair. It's all wrong. When I find the Portia Person I shall do something, I shall buy the church next door and I shall make a school. It shall be a school where you learn to do one useful thing that will earn your bread and butter. And the rest of the time--you shall dream." Babiche was a patient listener. But even Babiche yawned at all the Utopian theories with which her mistress would reform the world. Do you remember the chauffeur who promised Felice a "joy-ride"? Can't you see his fatuous grin one day as he listened to a drawling young- sounding voice over the telephone of Seeley's Boarding house, a voice that he couldn't remember at all, demurely saying, "You said you'd give me a joy-ride sometime if I had a new bonnet--I have. I really look like anybody else now. I do need that joy-ride just now, could you come for me?"