“Good, good,” he said, turning from the piano and hugging up his knees. “Well, we’ll have to get to work as fast as ever we can. I believe in ‘muscular art,’ the same as some one else has said of ‘muscular Christianity’—a sound mind in a sound body is the best foundation for lasting success. Success is the sincerity with which you do your work and the good your work does some one else—remember that when ennui bursts in an unwelcomed guest and you begin to ape some of the near-great who hover about. Art is the expression of a man’s joy in his work and you’ve everything about and in you, as well as before you, to prove to the world the truth of that saying. Many new and confusing things will happen shortly. All sorts and conditions of people, attentions, praise, blame, drudgery, ease, dissipations, monotonous routine—heavens, child, it makes my head ache to think of an absolutely _de luxe_ Topsy from Birge’s Backyard with the voice of an announcing angel set down in New York and told to prepare herself for grand opera!” He patted her on the shoulder. “Don’t look startled, Thurley—I’ll have to call you Thurley because Precore sticks in my throat—you’ll weather through and some time—I’ll tell you a pet scheme of mine that perhaps—” He actually was confused as if he regretted the remark. “But for now, I’ll start you off with having you report here every day at eleven and again at three—and you’re to do all the other things I tell you. Well, did you think I would order you to Italy first to get mellow, fall in love with one of those damned Italian officers with a heliotrope-lined coat and then come back and let me teach you to sing? God taught you to sing before you came to earth, and you’ve remembered His teaching.... Just learn the things we men are fools enough to think we must know and you have won!” He closed the pianoforte and opened the door. “No more exercises?” Thurley was tingling with excitement. “You’re all nerves! Do you think I need more exercises to make me quite sure about you—the same as an apron never fails to convince a man of the wearer’s domesticity? To-morrow we begin to polish and prune. Go home and lie down and think about the frivolous things in the world. You’ll be set to work fast enough ... ah, Miss Clergy, and did you hear us?” “I heard Thurley sing,” Miss Clergy said abruptly. “Well—well?” Thurley answered by stooping down and clasping the ghost lady in her arms. “He says it is worth your while,” she whispered. “Then it has been worth everything,” Miss Clergy answered, more to herself than to Thurley. Hobart’s secretary came in with some announcement cards and Hobart paused before he read them to say good-by. “To-morrow at eleven, and Baxter will see you this afternoon about other teachers. Good-by, Miss Clergy, and, Thurley, happy days!” He was so kindly again and with the suggestion of a schoolboy pal that Thurley could not resist the asking, “Oh, do you find many people worth all your trouble?”