vered
increased evidence that her worst fears were to be realized. It was to
be Alice and Calderwell, not Alice and Arkwright. Arkwright was again to
be disappointed in his dearest hopes.

Telling herself indignantly that it could not be, it _should_ not be,
Billy determined to remain after the men had gone, and speak to Alice.
Just what she would say she did not know. Even what she could say, she
was not sure. But certainly there must be something, some little thing
that she could say, which would open Alice's eyes to what she was doing,
and what she ought to do.

It was in this frame of mind, therefore, that Billy, after Arkwright
and Calderwell had gone, spoke to Alice. She began warily, with assumed
nonchalance.

"I believe Mr. Arkwright sings better every time I hear him."

There was no answer. Alice was sorting music at the piano.

"Don't you think so?" Billy raised her voice a little.

Alice turned almost with a start.

"What's that? Oh, yes. Well, I don't know; maybe I do."

"You would--if you didn't hear him any oftener than I do," laughed
Billy. "But then, of course you do hear him oftener."

"I? Oh, no, indeed. Not so very much oftener." Alice had turned back
to her music. There was a slight embarrassment in her manner. "I
wonder--where--that new song--is," she murmured.

Billy, who knew very well where the song lay, was not to be diverted.

"Nonsense! As if Mr. Arkwright wasn't always telling how Alice liked
this song, and didn't like that one, and thought the other the best yet!
I don't believe he sings a thing that he doesn't first sing to you. For
that matter, I fancy he asks your opinion of everything, anyway."

"Why, Billy, he doesn't!" exclaimed Alice, a deep red flaming into her
cheeks. "You know he doesn't."

Billy laughed gleefully. She had not been slow to note the color in her
friend's face, or to ascribe to it the one meaning she wished to ascribe
to it. So sure, indeed, was she now that her fears had been groundless,
that she flung caution to the winds.

"Ho! My dear Alice, you can't expect us all to be blind," she teased.
"Besides, we all think it's such a lovely arrangement that we're just
glad to see it. He's such a fine fellow, and we like him so much! We
couldn't ask for a better husband for you than Mr. Arkwright, and--"
From sheer amazement at the sudden white horror in Alice Greggory's
face, Billy stopped short. "Why, Alice!" she faltered then.

With a visible effort Al