When he reached his boarding-house, Miss Eulalie opened the door and cried out at the sight of his face—
"Oh, Mr. Antony; you've had good news, sir."
He put both hands on the thin shoulders, he kissed her roundly on both cheeks. The cold fresh air was on his cool fresh lips, and the kiss was as chaste as an Alpine breeze.
He cried: "Good news; well, I reckon I have! The great Mr. Cedersholm has given me a place in his studio."
He laughed aloud as she hung up his coat. Miss Eulalie's glasses were pushed up on her forehead—she might have been his grandmother.
"The Lord be praised!" she breathed. "I have been praying for you night and day."
"I shall go to Cedersholm to-morrow. I have not spoken about terms, but that will be all right, and if you ladies will be so good as to wait until Saturday——"
Of course they would wait. If it had not been that their means were so cruelly limited, they would never have spoken. Didn't he think?... He knew! he thought they were the best, dearest friends a young fortune hunter could have. Wait, wait till they could see his name in the papers—Antony Fairfax, the rising sculptor! Wait until they could go with him to the unveiling of his work in Central Park!
Supper was already on the table, and Antony talked to them both until they could hardly wait for the wonders!
"When you're great you'll not forget us, Mr. Antony?"