"Don't place him till you've seen his big picture, painted from her. It's tremendous. We've got to have it exhibited at Constantine's. I want you to help me arrange it for them. She's inexperienced, and he's helplessly unpractical. Oh!" she grasped his arm; "a splendid idea! Why shouldn't I have a private exhibition here first, for the benefit of the Cause?"
Farraday threw up his hands. "You are indefatigable, Constance. We'd better all leave it to you. The Byrds and Suffrage will benefit equally, I am sure."
"I will arrange it," she nodded smiling, her eyes narrowing, her slim hands dropping the jade beads from one to the other.
Farraday, knowing her for the moment lost to everything save her latest piece of stage management, left her, and joined the Byrds. He engaged himself to visit their studio the following week.
Miss Mason was folding her knitting, and Mary sat in the firelight sewing diligently. Stefan was out in search of paints.
"I tell you what 'tis, Mary Elliston Byrd," said Miss Mason. "It's 'bout time you saw a doctor. My mother was a physician-homeopath, one of the first that ever graduated. Take my advice, and have a woman."
"I should say!" agreed the other. "I never was one to be against the men, but oh, my--" she threw up her bony little hands--"if there's one thing I never could abide it's a man doctor for woman's work. I s'pose I got started that way by what my mother told me of the medical students in her day. Anyway, it hardly seems Christian to me for a woman to go to a man doctor."
Mary laughed. "I wish my dear old Dad could have heard you. I remember he once refused to meet a woman doctor in consultation. She had to leave Lindum--no one would employ her. I was a child at the time, but even then it seemed all wrong to me."
"My dear, you thank the Lord you live under the Stars and Stripes," rejoined Miss Mason, who conceived of England as a place beyond the reach of liberty for either women or men.
"I shall live under the Tricolor if Stefan has his way," smiled Mary.
"Child," said her visitor, putting on her hat, "don't say it. Your husband's an elegant man--I admire him--but don't you ever let me hear he doesn't love his country."
"I'm certainly learning to love it myself," Mary discreetly evaded.