Nels Zord came promptly at half-past eight, dressed as he had threatened, “like a musical comedy art student.” His wide trousers, short velvet jacket and flowing tie created in the mind of Ruth much the same wonder that Dorothy’s unaccustomed elegance created in the mind of Nels. Only Dorothy herself was unimpressed by their combined magnificence. To her everything was but a stepping stone on the upward path of her career. “Don’t I look spiffy, Nels? And aren’t you going to make sure that I meet Professor Pendragon, and be sure and tell him that I do portraits and then I’ll do the rest. If one can’t make use of one’s friends, of whom can one make use?” The last addressed to Ruth. “I wouldn’t miss the opportunity of letting him meet you for anything,” agreed Nels. “Only do try and be a little bit careful, Dot, you are strenuous, you know. Anyway you’d have met him without asking. He seemed curious to meet Ruth. Asked how she looked and if she was tall and beautiful, and seemed awfully disappointed when I told him that she was only short and pretty. Are you all ready? There’s the cab waiting.” From somewhere George appeared to open the door for them, and as Ruth paused to wrap her cloak more closely about her bare shoulders, his soft, lisping voice whispered in her ear: “Take care what you say to Pendragon, Miss.” She nodded and followed Nels and Dorothy into the cold, outer air. In the cab Nels and Dorothy chatted of the exhibitors—great artists whom they knew by sight, while Ruth to whom they were only names, listened in breathless admiration. When they had arrived and had left off their wraps, Dorothy protested: “Do we have to go down the line, or can we duck to the left?” “No nonsense like that; remember you’re with an exhibitor, and besides Professor Pendragon may be waiting for us. We can pay for the privilege of looking at the pictures by breaking through the line of receiving dowagers. It’s only fair.” “Oh, very well—but it’s really awful, Ruth. Lots of the students just duck the line and slip in at the left, but I suppose we’re too dignified tonight.” Professor Pendragon was not waiting for them, but the long line of dowagers was. If Dorothy had not been with her, Ruth would merely have looked at them as a long line of middle aged and elderly women in evening dress, but Dorothy saw them with far different eyes. She knew the names of some of them, and whispered them to Ruth while they waited to follow some people who had arrived before them. “Just look at the third one from the end—the one with the Valeska Suratt make-up on the Miss Hazy frame—” And then Ruth looked puzzled.