Dear me! Beauty is a responsibility! Such troubles, such trials about nothing! It's photographs this time! Last Wednesday--the day after the papers published so much about me--a strange man called in Mrs. Baker's absence and begged me to let him take my photograph--as a service to Art. If Aunt had been at home I wouldn't have been permitted to see him. But the man was pleasant and gentlemanly, and so sincere in his admiration that he won the way to my heart. I'm afraid devotion is still so new to me that it's the surest road to my good graces. He hesitated and stammered, blinking before my shining loveliness as if blinded, as he offered to take the pictures for nothing, if he might exhibit them afterwards; and at last I went to his studio, though I said that his work must be for me only, and that I must pay for it. I wonder at myself for yielding, for I didn't mean to have any photographs until the experiment was quite finished--to mortify me in future with their record of imperfection; but I'm so nearly perfect now that, really, it's time I had something to tell me how I do look. Of course, as fast as I can lay hands on them, I'm destroying every likeness of the old Nelly. At the studio it was such a revelation--the care and intelligence the man displayed, the skill of the posing--that when I got home full of the subject and found Cadge waiting, I had to tell her all about it. "H'm!" she said after I had finished; "what sort of looking chap?" When I had described him, she sat silent at least a third of a minute, establishing for herself a new record. Then she said:-- "Princess, I'll have to take back every word I said yesterday about letting you off from being interviewed. I agreed to wait, but it's up to you. Every rag in town'll have some kind of feature about you next Sunday, and you wouldn't ask me to see the _Star_ beaten? You'd better come right now to the _Star_ photographer, or--see last night's papers?--you'll wish you'd never been born. I tell you the situation's out of my control." "Well, come on then, before Aunt Frank gets back." So we started out again. The sun and air made me so drunken with pure joy of living that I didn't mind the scolding sure to follow--though it certainly has proved an annoyance ever since to have Aunt's fidgetty oversight of me redoubled, and to be shut up, as I have been, closer than ever, like a Princess in a fairy book, just as my splendid triumphs were beginning. Worst of all, almost, Mrs. Baker told the tale of my misdeeds to John. "Why, Helen," he said at once, "no photographer of standing goes about soliciting patronage; the man who came here wants pictures of you to sell." "Like the great ladies' photographs in England?" I asked flippantly, though I was really a little disturbed.