But Joy shook her head.

"I'm not tired a bit," she said truthfully. "I just let go all over
and stay that way. It isn't sitting any stiller than I do lots of
days, when Grandfather has me stay close by him, and keep very still
so he can write. Why, it seems downright sinful," she went on
earnestly, "to earn beautiful gray clothes by just sitting still!
But you would have to have somebody, anyway, wouldn't you?"

"Of course we would!" said Mrs. Morrow, picking up her crayon again.
"Indeed, we have to have two most of the time."

They all kept very quiet for a while after that, Joy sitting still
in her robes of state, a slim young Justice presiding over an as yet
undrawn Senate, and the Morrows working hard at her. She had been
posing for another half hour, when there came a whirlwind of steps
up the stairs, and the door banged open.

"Mrs. Morrow, can you let me have some fixative?" called a voice;
and Joy moved her eyes cautiously, and saw a pretty, panting girl in
the doorway. She looked like an artist, too, for she had a smudge of
paint on one vivid cheek, and her black hair was untidily down over
her gipsy eyes.

"Nice model you've got--good skin tints--oh, don't bother about the
fixative if you're working. I see it."

She darted in, past Joy, snatched a bottle half full of something
yellow, and was out again before any one could speak.