"My dear madam," said Grace, striking an owlish attitude, "you have not read the latest opinion expressed by one of the most learned professors in the Allopathic school of medicine in Paris. He stood before the class of graduating students and said: 'Gentlemen, you have done me the honor to come here to listen to a lecture on the science of medicine. I must frankly confess I know nothing about it, and, moreover, know of no one who does. Any one who takes medicine is fortunate if it helps him, but more fortunate if it does not harm him.' Whether our friend is fortunate or unfortunate is a question hard to decide. I move we discuss another subject." Kate laughed in spite of herself, and Grace got up to take another view of the "Modern Hypatia," which at last was growing into a visible creation under her skillful brush. "Isn't that a woman for you?" she said, pointing to the picture admiringly, as she held it under the gas light. "Yes, I like her better than Hebe. She has a look of reserved power about her that is captivating, but there is something in her face that makes me sad, something that is lacking." "What is it? Tell me, for _I_ can see nothing!" Grace questioned impetuously. "Wait a minute, perhaps I can define it. There! hold it so. Let me see," and Kate walked off a few paces. "Yes, it is dissatisfaction, an incompleteness, as though she had not found what she sought." "Can you see that, Kate? Then I am at the same time the most happy and unhappy creature alive," cried Grace, breathlessly dropping into a chair and holding the picture fondly near her face. "Why?" said the astonished Kate. "Don't you know I am forever putting myself into my pictures? And I've succeeded too admirably with this one. The poor thing has caught my unconscious fault of finding defects everywhere. Oh, I must get it out of her some way; how shall I, when to me she looks so perfect?" "You better get it out of yourself first, if that is the trouble," replied Kate, with a great wave of pity in her voice. "I wish I could. Oh, why do I have to see everything in the wrong way? It seems to me life would be heavenly, if I could know only the good in everything." Grace put down the picture and gazed at it with stern, accusing eyes. "I shall leave this one and begin another to-morrow," she finally announced in a subdued tone. "I am glad you won't rub this out, for she is too lovely," said Kate, softly, as she went about, gently putting things in order, picking up her music and arranging the books. Grace sat there brooding over her life problems with a new thought in her mind. She dimly realized that a woman must have a genuine message herself before she tries to give it to the world. And alas, her message was sadly deficient, she found. Mechanically she took a book from the table and opening it at random, read: "If the whole is ever to gladden thee, That whole in the smallest thing thou must see."