"Is it?" wistfully. "They say it is a snare." "Do they? Perhaps they have not eyes to see. True beauty is uplifting; but only when one has power to see its inwardness." "I'm glad to think it is not wrong," she murmured. "I do love things that are beautiful. Won't you show me something you did yourself when you were abroad?" "I left all behind me. Nothing worth bringing. Here is one attempt since my return." He led her to a corner of the studio, where stood in shade a head of bronzed plaster upon a stand. "Giles!" was her exclamation. "How like! Oh, how like!" She viewed it from different positions. "It is his very self. And how wonderfully you have given the look in his eyes. Only a little hollow for each eye—and yet they are 'his!'" "Sure proof that character and expression reside more in the surroundings than in the eyes themselves." "And you did this since you came home?" "Yes. I'd awfully hard work to get him to sit; but he gave in now and then. When he went north, I had to do my best with photographs. No, I didn't attempt the moulding." Phyllys' next move was towards the centre modelling-table. She had noticed that he kept clear of that, and her curiosity was roused. "May I see what you are doing now?" she asked. And after a momentary hesitation, he removed the damp cloths, laying bare a child's head in clay, life-size, nearly completed. It was a lovable little face, half-sad, yet with a tender shy peace. The luxuriant hair was cut low on the forehead, and fell around in heavy waves; and the effect of dark eyes was admirably given, under drooping lids. "Who is it?" "Elsye Wallace. She died many years ago." "You have done it from memory?" "Partly from memory. Partly from an oil-painting and some photographs." "I heard a Dr. Wallace spoken of yesterday." "He is our medical man. Elsye was his only child." Phyllys gave her attention to the bust, scanning it from various directions. "I like it!" came at length. "I can't tell you how much I like it. Of course I don't know—I'm no judge—but she seems almost to 'live.' You make me love her, as if I had known the real Elsye. Were you fond of her? Do you mind telling me?" "Yes; we knew her well." Phyllys looked up. "You ought to go on," she said earnestly. "You 'will' go on?" "You are encouraging." "But you don't want encouraging. You know you can do it." "Nobody knows it always." "You won't let anybody make you leave off?" She was thinking of his mother. "No. I shall not be stopped." A chair was near, and Phyllys sat down, resting her cheek on one hand, gazing earnestly. A smile broke over her face. "You little darling!" she murmured.