“Jean Morley,” Wingfield read aloud. “Oh, certainly I know her. It’s really most remarkable that you should have recognized her talent. I suppose you have come here to offer her a dollar apiece for her sketches--I advise you not to lay yourself open to the humiliation of her scornful rejection of your offer. The girl is wonderful--wonderful! Anything less than a thousand dollars for what you have here would be preposterous; I would give her more myself and hold the drawings as an investment. And I happen to know that _This Busy World_ has already offered to make a contract with her covering a term of years,” he added carelessly, readjusting his glasses. Wingfield would not have lied to a stranger, but he had known Richardson all his life; and besides, Jean was a pretty girl and Dick Wingfield’s soul was not brass. The situation was much to his liking. Richardson was a man of distinction, a poet and essayist of high attainments, and as such Wingfield would take good care of him for the honour of Pittsburg. He was already wondering whether his mother would undertake a dinner in Richardson’s honour, with two or three girls he knew, and with Jean present--the surprise of the occasion. It was not an opportunity to miss. He had planned the dinner before Richardson had ceased praising the drawings. “I would appreciate it if you would help me find the girl. I’m in a hurry; we want her to illustrate a series of articles we’ve got in type--‘The Child as a Wage-earner.’ These drawings strayed into the office just as we were discussing illustrators and she’s first choice. The matter is urgent. I must find out if she will undertake it and get out of here to-morrow.” The larger prospect faded; but Wingfield called Mrs. Blair by telephone and the Lady of Difficult Occasions rose as he knew she would. The editor of the _Hemisphere_ was a celebrity, Jean was her own protégée; there was every reason why Mrs. Blair should bring them together at her own board, and Wingfield was to be of the party--he did not have to suggest it. Whether Wayne should be included was a question Wingfield left to Mrs. Blair and she deemed it best that Wayne and Jean should not meet. For while Wayne was wrestling with his spirit in the hills, Mrs. Blair and Jean had seen much of each other and Jean had told her friend the whole story of her acquaintance with Wayne, and her belief that she was still bound to Joe. Here was a complication that gave even Fanny Blair pause! She hurried Jean to a shop to find a ready-made gown for the occasion and otherwise exercised the right of guardianship. As Fanny Blair’s last girl fiddler had eloped with a cornetist who already had a wife or two, her faith in budding genius needed this restoration. “But Lord bless you, I don’t know Mrs. Blair,” cried the editor when Wingfield told him that they were to meet the artist at the Blair house.