The Little Colonel's chum : Mary Ware . y UnclePhil, Eugenia had written, in her letter of invita-tion. And Phil himself would be there, — maybe. Hewas trying to get his work in shape so that he couldbe home at Christmas time. Mary did not realizehow much her anticipations of this visit were tingedby the glow of that maybe. Her thoughts ran aheadlo that day at Eugenias oftener than to any otherpart of the grand outing. There was to be a wholeweek of sight-seeing in New York sandwiched inbetween the cozy hours at home with Joyce in herstudio, and then on the roundabout way back toschool a stop-
The Little Colonel's chum : Mary Ware . y UnclePhil, Eugenia had written, in her letter of invita-tion. And Phil himself would be there, — maybe. Hewas trying to get his work in shape so that he couldbe home at Christmas time. Mary did not realizehow much her anticipations of this visit were tingedby the glow of that maybe. Her thoughts ran aheadlo that day at Eugenias oftener than to any otherpart of the grand outing. There was to be a wholeweek of sight-seeing in New York sandwiched inbetween the cozy hours at home with Joyce in herstudio, and then on the roundabout way back toschool a stop-over at Annapolis, for a few hourswith Holland. Filled with such an ineffable spirit of content thatshe would not have exchanged places with any onein the whole world, she watched the last bus load 124 MARY WARE drive away, waving their handkerchiefs all down theavenue, and singing: O Warwick Hall, dear Warwick Hall,The joys of Yule now homeward still well keep the tryst with you,Though for a time we say ! Adieu !. THE GIRLISH FIGURE ENVELOPED IN A LONG LOOSE WORKING APRON. CHAPTER VIIin Joyces studio The short winter day was almost at an up in the top flat of a New York apartmenthouse, Joyce Ware sat in her studio, making themost of those last few moments of daylight. In thedownstairs flats the electric lights were already moved her easel nearer the window, thankfulthat no sky-scraper loomed between it and the fadingsunset, for she needed a full half hour to completeher work. There were a number of good pictures on thewalls, among them some really fine old Dutch in-teriors, but any artist would have turned from thebest of them to study the picture silhouetted againstthe western window. The girlish figure envelopedin a long loose working apron was all in shadow, butthe light, slanting across the graceful head bendingtowards the easel, touched the brown hair withglints of gold, and gave the profile of the earnestyoung face, the distinctive e
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