"Doesn't the writer think the pictures the unobtrusive embroidery of the violin, and the writing the magic melody one cannot choose but hear?" I thought that rather neat for my first day in New York, but the shrewd blue eyes opened wide at the heresy. "Why, no; of course Cadge knows it's the pictures that count; everybody knows that." A writing-table jutted into the room from a second window, backing against Miss Reid's. On its flap lay German volumes on biology and a little treatise in English about "Advanced Methods of Imbedding, Sectioning and Staining." The window ledge held a vase of willow and alder twigs, whose buds appeared to be swelling. Beside it was a glass of water in which seeds were sprouting on a floating island of cotton wool. "Admiring Helen's forest?" came the voice from the desk. "I'm afraid there's only second growth timber left; she carried away the great redwoods and all the giants of the wilderness this morning. Are you interested in zoology? Sometimes, since I have been living with Helen, I have wished more than anything else to find out, What is protoplasm? Do you happen to know?" "I'm afraid not." "Neither does Helen--nor any one else." Miss Reid's merry ways are infectious. I'm glad Helen is rooming with a nice girl. The place was shabby enough, with cracked and broken ceiling, marred woodwork and stained wall paper; but etchings, foreign photographs, sketches put up with thumb tacks and bright hangings made it odd and attractive. On a low couch piled with cushions lay Helen's mandolin and a banjo. A plaster cast of some queer animal roosted on the mantel, craning its neck down towards the fireplace. "That's the Notre Dame devil," Miss Reid said, following my glance; "the other is the Lincoln Cathedral devil." She nodded at a wide-mouthed imp, clawing at a door-top. "Don't you just adore gargoyles?" "Yes; that is--very much," I stammered, wandering back to Helen's desk. And then! And then I heard quick steps outside. They reached the door and paused. I looked up eagerly. "There's Helen now," said Miss Reid; "or else Cadge." A tall girl burst into the room, dropping an armful of books, and sprang to Miss Reid. "Kitty! Kitty!" she cried, in a voice of wonderful music. "Two camera fiends! One in front of the college, the other by the elevated station; waiting for me to pass, I do believe! And such crowds! They followed me! Look! Look! Down in the Square!" CHAPTER II. THE MOST BEAUTIFUL WOMAN IN THE WORLD. Both girls ran to the window. Miss Reid laughed teasingly. "I see nobody--or all the world; it's much the same," she said; "but you have a caller." I rose from behind the desk with some confused, trivial thought that I ought to have spent part of the afternoon getting my hair cut.