ith
him.

That all this was puzzling and disquieting to Bertram, Billy not once
suspected. Billy, so far as she was concerned, was but cultivating a
comfortable indifference, brushing up against outside interests, and
being an oak.

December passed, and January came, bringing Miss Marguerite Winthrop to
her Boston home. Bertram's arm was "as good as ever" now, according to
its owner; and the sittings for the new portrait began at once. This
left Billy even more to her own devices, for Bertram entered into his
new work with an enthusiasm born of a glad relief from forced idleness,
and a consuming eagerness to prove that even though he had failed the
first time, he could paint a portrait of Marguerite Winthrop that would
be a credit to himself, a conclusive retort to his critics, and a source
of pride to his once mortified friends. With his whole heart, therefore,
he threw himself into the work before him, staying sometimes well into
the afternoon on the days Miss Winthrop could find time between her
social engagements to give him a sitting.

It was on such a day, toward the middle of the month, that Billy was
called to the telephone at half-past twelve o'clock to speak to her
husband.

"Billy, dear," began Bertram at once, "if you don't mind I'm staying
to luncheon at Miss Winthrop's kind request. We've changed the
pose--neither of us was satisfied, you know--but we haven't quite
settled on the new one. Miss Winthrop has two whole hours this
afternoon that she can give me if I'll stay; and, of course, under the
circumstances, I want to do it."

"Of course," echoed Billy. Billy's voice was indomitably cheerful.

"Thank you, dear. I knew you'd understand," sighed Bertram, contentedly.
"You see, really, two whole hours, so--it's a chance I can't afford to
lose."

"Of course you can't," echoed Billy, again.

"All right then. Good-by till to-night," called the man.

"Good-by," answered Billy, still cheerfully. As she turned away,
however, she tossed her head. "A new pose, indeed!" she muttered, with
some asperity. "Just as if there could be a _new_ pose after all those
she tried last year!"

Immediately after luncheon Pete and Eliza started for South Boston to
pay a visit to Eliza's mother, and it was soon after they left the house
that Bertram called his wife up again.

"Say, dearie, I forgot to tell you," he began, "but I met an old friend
in the subway this morning, and I--well, I remembered what you said
a