rue.

In August William closed the Beacon street house and went to the
Rangeley Lakes on a camping trip. He told himself that he would not
go had it not been for a promise given to an old college friend months
before. True, he had been anticipating this trip all winter; but it
occurred to him now that it would be much more interesting to go to
Hampden Falls and see Billy. He had been to the Rangeley Lakes, and he
had not been to Hampden Falls; besides, there would be Ned Harding and
those queer old maids with their shaded house and socketed chairs to
see. In short, to William, at the moment, there seemed no place quite
so absorbingly interesting as was Hampden Falls. But he went to the
Rangeley Lakes.

In September Cyril came back from Europe, and Bertram from the
Adirondacks where he had been spending the month of August. William
already had arrived, and with Pete and Dong Ling had opened the house.

"Where's Billy? Isn't Billy here?" demanded Bertram.

"No. She isn't back yet," replied William.

"You don't mean to say she's stayed up there all summer!" exclaimed
Cyril.

"Why, yes, I--I suppose so," hesitated William. "You see, I haven't
heard but once for a month. I've been down in Maine, you know."

William wrote to Billy that night.

"My dear:--" he said in part. "I hope you'll come home right away. We
want to see SOMETHING of you before you go away again, and you know the
schools will be opening soon.

"By the way, it has just occurred to me as I write that perhaps, after
all, you won't have to go quite away. There are plenty of good schools
for young ladies right in and near Boston, which I am sure you could
attend, and still live at home. Suppose you come back then as soon as
you can, and we'll talk it up. And that reminds me, I wonder how Spunk
will get along with Spunkie. Spunkie has been boarding out all August at
a cat home, but he seems glad to get back to us. I am anxious to see the
two little chaps together, just to find out how much alike they really
do look."

Very promptly came Billy's answer; but William's face, after he had read
the letter, was almost as blank as it had been on that April day when
Billy's first letter came--though this time for a far different reason.

"Why, boys, she--isn't--coming," he announced in dismay.

"Isn't coming!" ejaculated two astonished Voices.

"No."

"Not--at--ALL?"

"Why, of course, later," retorted William, with unwonted sharpness. "But
not now. T