of her
old-time longing when she had come to that house a lonely, orphan girl,
in search of a home. On and on she played; then with a discordant
note, she suddenly rose from the piano. She was thinking of Kate, and
wondering if, had Kate not "managed" the little room would still be
home.

So swiftly did Billy cross to the door that the man on the stairs
outside had not time to get quite out of sight. Billy did not see his
face, however; she saw only a pair of gray-trousered legs disappearing
around the curve of the landing above. She thought nothing of it until
later when dinner was announced, and Cyril came down-stairs; then
she saw that he, and he only, that afternoon wore trousers of that
particular shade of gray.

The dinner was a great success. Even the chocolate fudge in the little
cut glass bonbon dishes was perfect; and it was a question whether Pete
or Dong Ling tried the harder to please.

After dinner the family gathered in the drawing-room and chatted
pleasantly. Bertram displayed his prettiest and newest pictures, and
Billy played and sung--bright, tuneful little things that she knew Aunt
Hannah and Uncle William liked. If Cyril was pleased or displeased, he
did not show it--but Billy had ceased to play for Cyril's ears. She told
herself that she did not care; but she did wonder: was that Cyril on the
stairs, and if so--what was he doing there?

CHAPTER XXVI

"MUSIC HATH CHARMS"

Two days after Thanksgiving Cyril called at Hillside.

"I've come to hear you play," he announced abruptly.

Billy's heart sung within her--but her temper rose. Did he think then
that he had but to beckon and she would come--and at this late day, she
asked herself. Aloud she said:

"Play? But this is 'so sudden'! Besides, you have heard me."

The man made a disdainful gesture.

"Not that. I mean play--really play. Billy, why haven't you played to me
before?"

Billy's chin rose perceptibly.

"Why haven't you asked me?" she parried.

To Billy's surprise the man answered this with calm directness.

"Because Calderwell said that you were a dandy player, and I don't care
for dandy players."

Billy laughed now.

"And how do you know I'm not a dandy player, Sir Impertinent?" she
demanded.

"Because I've heard you--when you weren't."

"Thank you," murmured Billy.

Cyril shrugged his shoulders.

"Oh, you know very well what I mean," he defended. "I've heard you;
that's all."

"When?"

"That doesn't s