t awkwardly tied, if it must be confessed.
Where it came from, or who put it there was not known--until one day the
kitten was found in the hall delightedly chewing at the end of what had
been a roll of pink ribbon. Up the stairs led a trail of pink ribbon and
curling white paper--and the end of the trail was in William's room.

CHAPTER XVIII

BILLY WRITES ANOTHER LETTER

By the middle of June only William and the gray kitten were left with
Pete and Dong Ling in the Beacon Street house. Cyril had sailed for
England, and Bertram had gone on a sketching trip with a friend.

To William the house this summer was unusually lonely; indeed, he found
the silent, deserted rooms almost unbearable. Even the presence of the
little gray cat served only to accentuate the loneliness--it reminded
him of Billy.

William missed Billy. He owned that now even to Pete. He said that he
would be glad when she came back. To himself he said that he wished he
had not fallen in quite so readily with Aunt Hannah's notion of getting
the child away. It was all nonsense, he declared. All she needed was a
little curbing and directing, both of which could just as well have been
done there at home. But she had gone, and it could not be helped now.
The only thing left for him to do was to see that it did not occur
again. When Billy came back she should stay, except for necessary
absences for school, of course. All this William settled in his own mind
quite to his own satisfaction, entirely forgetting, strange to say, that
it had been Billy's own suggestion that she go away.

Very promptly William wrote to Billy. He told her how he missed her, and
said that he had stopped trying to sort and catalogue his collections
until she should be there to help him. He told her, too, after a time,
of the gray kitten, "Spunkie," that looked so much like Spunk.

In reply he received plump white envelopes directed in the round,
schoolboy hand that he remembered so well. In the envelopes were
letters, cheery and entertaining, like Billy herself. They thanked him
for all his many kindnesses, and they told him something of what Billy
was doing. They showed unbounded interest in the new kitten, and in all
else that William wrote about; but they hinted very plainly that he had
better not wait for her to help him out on the catalogue, for it would
soon be autumn, and she would be in school.

William frowned at this, and shook his head; yet he knew that it was
t