r forlornly sitting with her nose pressed against the
window-pane! And forthwith Billy established herself in a big chair
(with its back carefully turned toward the door by which Bertram would
enter), and opened a book.

Five, ten, fifteen minutes passed. Billy fidgeted in her chair, twisted
her neck to look out into the hall--and dropped her book with a bang.

Uncle William jerked himself awake, and Spunkie opened sleepy eyes. Then
both settled themselves for another nap. Billy sighed, picked up
her book, and flounced back into her chair. But she did not read.
Disconsolately she sat staring straight ahead--until a quick step on
the sidewalk outside stirred her into instant action. Assuming a look
of absorbed interest she twitched the book open and held it before her
face.... But the step passed by the door: and Billy saw then that her
book was upside down.

Five, ten, fifteen more minutes passed. Billy still sat, apparently
reading, though she had not turned a page. The book now, however, was
right side up. One by one other minutes passed till the great clock in
the hall struck nine long strokes.

"Well, well, bless my soul!" mumbled Uncle William, resolutely forcing
himself to wake up. "What time was that?"

"Nine o'clock." Billy spoke with tragic distinctness, yet very
cheerfully.

"Eh? Only nine?" blinked Uncle William. "I thought it must be ten. Well,
anyhow, I believe I'll go up-stairs. I seem to be unusually sleepy."

Billy said nothing. "'Only nine,' indeed!" she was thinking wrathfully.

At the door Uncle William turned.

"You're not going to sit up, my dear, of course," he remarked.

For the second time that evening a cold hand seemed to clutch Billy's
heart.

_Sit up!_ Had it come already to that? Was she even now a wife who had
need to _sit up_ for her husband?

"I really wouldn't, my dear," advised Uncle William again. "Good night."

"Oh, but I'm not sleepy at all, yet," Billy managed to declare brightly.
"Good night."

Then Uncle William went up-stairs.

Billy turned to her book, which happened to be one of William's on "Fake
Antiques."

"'To collect anything, these days, requires expert knowledge, and the
utmost care and discrimination,'" read Billy's eyes. "So Uncle William
_expected_ Bertram was going to spend the whole evening as well as stay
to dinner!" ran Billy's thoughts. "'The enormous quantity of bijouterie,
Dresden and Battersea enamel ware that is now flooding the market,
i