Rudyard Kipling 9] turning the gray kangaroo fur to the outside. “This is delicious,” she said, rubbing her chin thoughtfully along the fur. “Well? Why am I wrong in trying to get a little success?” “Just because you try. Don’t you understand, darling? Good work has nothing to do with — doesn’t belong to — the person who does it. It’s put into him or her from outside.” “But how does that affect —” “Wait a minute. All we can do is to learn how to do our work, to be masters of our materials instead of servants, and never to be afraid of anything.” “T understand that.” “Everything else comes from outside ourselves. Very good. If we sit down quietly to work out notions that are sent to us, we may or we may not do something that isn’t bad. A great deal depends on being master of the bricks and mortar of the trade. But the instant we begin to think about success and the effect of our work — to play with one eye on the gallery — we lose power and touch and everything else. At least that’s how I have found it. Instead of being quiet and giving every power you possess to your work, you’re fretting over something which you can neither help no hinder by a minute. See?” “It’s so easy for you to talk in that way. People like what you do. Don’t you ever think about the gallery?” “Much too often; but I’m always punished for it by loss of power. It’s as simple as the Rule of Three. If we make light of our work by using it for our own ends, our work will make light of us, and, as we're the weaker, we shall suffer.” “I don’t treat my work lightly. You know that it’s everything to me.” “Of course; but, whether you realize it or not, you give two strokes for yourself to one for your work. It