"It's no use," that moody creature was muttering despondently. "There's space enough but it's no use. I don't seem to want to do it any more--I used to sit and dream about how I'd do it and how it would make other people dream just to look--it wasn't going to be any ordinary Pandora--it was to be a symbol--a symbol of what goes on in your heart when you're young--before you know about life--oh, I can't chitter-chatter about it--but I used to think I could make it--" "Of course you can make it," Felicia insisted. "Not just now--" she led the girl to the window, "right now, the first thing you'll have to do is to help me in the garden. Doesn't it look ugly down there? It used to be lovely. Probably as soon as it's lovely again you will walk around in it and dream about your Pandora. I used to dream a lot of things in that garden. Some day, while I'm off sewing on my stupid sewing, you'll come dashing upstairs--and begin! Think what fun it will be when I get home that night! I'll call out, 'Where's my sculptor girl?' And you'll call out--'Here, I've begun!'" Felicia waved her hand into the gloom behind them as though Pandora were already mysteriously there. Perhaps she was! At any rate that was the moment that Felicia won! The Sculptor Girl laughed, a nervous little laugh, and dashed off to arrange for the steamer chairs. Presently she came back with them and found Felicia had kindled a fire in the Peggoty grate. It was delightfully cosy with two candles burning recklessly on the mantel- shelf and Felicia and Dulcie sitting by the embers of the little fire. They'd had a supper of sandwiches and milk. Babiche was curled at their feet and they were planning excitably what they'd do with the house, when from the depths of the empty hall the old bell shrilled. They'd bolted the doors an hour before when the last of the tailor's tribe had departed. It was the Sculptor Girl who mustered courage to go down. "It's all right," she called up to Felicia, "it's Miss Sarah from the Exchange. There's a Mr. Alden with her--will you come down?" He was a very apologetic Mr. Alden. "I know it's after eight," he said, "but I've had a time finding you. It's Uncle Peter. He's--well, Miss Grant and the doctor think he's pretty bad tonight. He's a notion he wants to play chess with you, he's been asking all day. I couldn't find you till now. Would you come along for an hour or two to pacify him?" The Sculptor Girl decided for her. "Babiche and I will wait up for you," she said. "We'll wait--" It was as comfortable a motor as the Judge's. Little Miss Day let herself rest in its cushions. She felt rather lonely without Babiche, but she was glad she had had her to leave with the Sculptor Girl.