elcome
the "boy" who turned out to be a girl; and again when with pink roses
and sewing-baskets the three brothers got joyously ready for a feminine
Billy who did not even come at all.

The house had been very different then. It had been, indeed, a "strata,"
with its distinctive layers of fads and pursuits as represented by
Bertram and his painting on one floor, William and his curios on
another, and Cyril with his music on a third. Cyril was gone now. Only
Pete and his humble belongings occupied the top floor. The floor below,
too, was silent now, and almost empty save for a rug or two, and a few
pieces of heavy furniture that William had not cared to take with him
to his new quarters on top of Beacon Hill. Below this, however, came
Billy's old rooms, and on these Pete had lavished all his skill and
devotion.

Freshly laundered curtains were at the windows, dustless rugs were on
the floor. The old work-basket had been brought down from the top-floor
storeroom, and the long-closed piano stood invitingly open. In
a conspicuous place, also, sat the little green god, upon whose
exquisitely carved shoulders was supposed to rest the "heap plenty velly
good luckee" of Dong Ling's prophecy.

On the first floor Bertram's old rooms and the drawing-room came in for
their share of the general overhauling. Even Spunkie did not escape, but
had to submit to the ignominy of a bath. And then dawned fair and clear
the first day of September, bringing at five o'clock the bride and
groom.

Respectfully lined up in the hall to meet them were Pete and Dong Ling:
Pete with his wrinkled old face alight with joy and excitement; Dong
Ling grinning and kotowing, and chanting in a high-pitched treble:

"Miss Billee, Miss Billee--plenty much welcome, Miss Billee!"

"Yes, welcome home, Mrs. _Henshaw!_" bowed Bertram, turning at the door,
with an elaborate flourish that did not in the least hide his tender
pride in his new wife.

Billy laughed and colored a pretty pink.

"Thank you--all of you," she cried a little unsteadily. "And how good,
good everything does look to me! Why, where's Uncle William?" she broke
off, casting hurriedly anxious eyes about her.

"Well, I should say so," echoed Bertram. "Where is he, Pete? He isn't
sick, is he?"

A quick change crossed the old servant's face. He shook his head dumbly.

Billy gave a gleeful laugh.

"I know--he's asleep!" she caroled, skipping to the bottom of the
stairway and looking up.