t Billy was not
in love with Bertram he very much feared. He hesitated almost to speak
or move lest something he should say or do should, just at the critical
moment, turn matters the wrong way. To William this marriage of Bertram
and Billy was an ideal method of solving the problem, as of course Billy
would come there to the house to live, and he would have his "daughter"
after all. But as the days passed, and he could see no progress
on Bertram's part, no change in Billy, he began to be seriously
worried--and to show it.

CHAPTER XXXIV

CLASS DAY

Early in June Billy announced her intention of not going away at all
that summer.

"I don't need it," she declared. "I have this cool, beautiful house,
this air, this sunshine, this adorable view. Besides, I've got a scheme
I mean to carry out."

There was some consternation among Billy's friends when they found out
what this "scheme" was: sundry of Billy's humbler acquaintances were to
share the house, the air, the sunshine, and the adorable view with her.

"But, my dear Billy," Bertram cried, aghast, "you don't mean to say that
you are going to turn your beautiful little house into a fresh-air place
for Boston's slum children!"

"Not a bit of it," smiled the girl, "though I'd like to, really, if I
could," she added, perversely. "But this is quite another thing. It's no
slum work, no charity. In the first place my guests aren't quite so poor
as that, and they're much too proud to be reached by the avowed charity
worker. But they need it just the same."

"But you haven't much spare room; have you?" questioned Bertram.

"No, unfortunately; so I shall have to take only two or three at a time,
and keep them maybe a week or ten days. It's just a sugar plum, Bertram.
Truly it is," she added whimsically, but with a tender light in her
eyes.

"But who are these people?" Bertram's face had lost its look of shocked
surprise, and his voice expressed genuine interest.

"Well, to begin with, there's Marie. She'll stay all summer and help me
entertain my guests; at the same time her duties won't be arduous,
and she'll get a little playtime herself. One week I'm going to have a
little old maid who keeps a lodging house in the West End. For uncounted
years she's been practically tied to a doorbell, with never a whole day
to breathe free. I've made arrangements there for a sister to keep house
a whole week, and I'm going to show this little old maid things she
hasn't se