Mary rejoiced in his new enthusiasm, and persuaded herself that his indifference to children was merely the result of his lonely bachelorhood, and would disappear forever at the sight of his own child. Now that her great secret was shared she became happier, and openly commenced those preparations which she had long been cherishing in thought. Miss Mason was sent for, and the great news confided to her. They undertook several shopping expeditions, as a result of which Mary would sit with a pile of sewing on her knee while Stefan worked to complete his picture. Miss Mason took to dropping in occasionally with a pattern or some trifle of wool or silk. Mary was always glad to see her, and even Stefan found himself laughing sometimes at her shrewd New England wit. For the most part, however, he ignored her, while he painted away in silence behind the great canvas. Mary had received twelve dollars for each of her verses--ninety-six dollars in all. Before Christmas Stefan sold his pastoral of the dancing faun for one hundred and twenty-five, and Mary felt that financially they were in smooth water, and ventured to discuss the possibility of larger quarters. For these they were both eager, having begun to feel the confinement of their single room; but Mary urged that they postpone moving until spring. “We are warm and snug here for the winter, and by spring we shall have saved something substantial, and really be able to spread out,” she argued. “Very well, wise one, we will hold in our wings a little longer,” he agreed, “but when we do fly, it must be high.” His brush soared in illustration. She had discussed with him the matter of the illustrations for her verses as soon as she received her cheque from Farraday. They had agreed that it would be a pity for him to take time for them from his masterpiece. “Besides, sweetheart,” he had said, “I honestly think Ledward will do them better. His stuff is very graceful, without being sentimental, and he understands children, which I'm afraid I don't.” He shrugged regretfully. “Didn't you paint that adorable lost baby?” she reminded him. “I've always grieved that we had to sell it.” “I'll buy it back for you, or paint you another better one,” he offered promptly. So the verses went to Ledward, and the first three appeared in the Christmas number of The Child at Home, illustrated--as even Stefan had to admit--with great beauty. Mary would have given infinitely much for his collaboration, but she had not urged it, feeling he was right in his refusal.