Instantly Doris was stirred as Nancy had been. Mentally she braced. She recalled vividly Sylvia Reed, Joan's particular friend at Miss Phillips's. The girl had genius where Joan had talent. She had inherited enough to take her comfortably through school, had a small income besides, but she would have to work and win her way to the success she promised. Sylvia's ambition was only equalled by her belief in herself and her eagerness to prove it to others. She was a few years older than Joan, and a girl of remarkable character and sweetness. "She wants me, Aunt Dorrie. She wants me to come to her. She has a studio in New York; not down in that part of the city which Uncle David doesn't like, the place where he says folks show off with the window shades up. Sylvia is in the safe uptown where the _real_ thing is!" The eagerness in Joan's hurrying voice made Doris smile. The girl was trying to clear all obstacles away before coming to the point. That was her way. "Why, Aunt Dorrie, Sylvia has two orders for book covers, already, besides twelve hundred a year!" The letter had been packed with ammunition and Joan was using it recklessly. "Just listen, Aunt Dorrie." And Joan spread the letter on her knee; her hands were trembling as she patted it open. "This is what Sylvia says: The Studio is perfect--north side full of windows; south side full of fireplace; your room and mine on the east; stars and sunlight on tap from the windows. We are on top of the city and nothing hinders our view. We walk up and none come but those worthy of us--come, Joan, you always said that you would. Your future will be blasted unless you break away from your rich relatives. Nothing is such a curse as that which prevents you proving yourself; you remember about the poem which dealt with proving your soul?--how you spouted it. I know that you are gifted, child, but the world doesn't. If we fail, you at least can, after you pay proper respects to my remains, go back to that adorable aunt of yours and flop in the lap of luxury--but make the attempt to reach glory first. I suppose Nan will raise a ladylike dust--but come! Come empty-handed--it's the only honest way. Come prepared to eat your bread by the sweat of your brow--or go hungry. I bet your aunt will see the squareness of this offer if you put it right. Come! The light broadened outside--the little chapel was flooded with the golden glow. Even while her heart sank and grew heavy, Doris was moved with an almost terrible understanding of the girl across the room. She wanted to push her on her way instead of holding her back, and at the same time she was striving to clutch her as she went her way. Yes, that was it. Joan was already started; nothing could hold her back--but still the battle waged, while Doris smiled tremblingly.