eal to say.

"Really, this is a little the most absurd thing I ever heard of," she
fumed. "What in the world does your brother mean?"

That she quite ignored her own relationship to the culprit was not lost
on Bertram. He made instant response.

"As near as I can make out," he replied smoothly, "YOUR brother has
fallen under the sway of a pair of great dark eyes, two pink cheeks, and
an unknown quantity of curly hair, all of which in its entirety is his
namesake, is lonesome, and is in need of a home."

"But she can't live--here!"

"Will says she shall."

"But that is utter nonsense," cut in Cyril.

"For once I agree with you, Cyril," laughed Bertram; "but William
doesn't."

"But how can she do it?" demanded Kate.

"Don't know," answered Bertram. "He's established a petticoat propriety
in you for a few hours, at least. Meanwhile, he's going to think. At
least, he says he is, and that we've got to help him."

"Humph!" snapped Kate. "Well, I can prophesy we sha'n't think alike--so
you'd notice it!"

"I know that," nodded Bertram; "and I'm with you and Cyril on this. The
whole thing is absurd. The idea of thrusting a silly, eighteen-year-old
girl here into our lives in this fashion! But you know what Will is when
he's really roused. You might as well try to move a nice good-natured
mountain by saying 'please,' as to try to stir him under certain
circumstances. Most of the time, I'll own, we can twist him around our
little fingers. But not now. You'll see. In the first place, she's the
daughter of his dead friend, and she DID write a pathetic little letter.
It got to the inside of me, anyhow, when I thought she was a boy."

"A boy! Who wouldn't think she was a boy?" interposed Cyril. "'Billy,'
indeed! Can you tell me what for any sane man should have named a girl
'Billy'?"

"For William, your brother, evidently," retorted Bertram, dryly.
"Anyhow, he did it, and of course our mistake was a very natural one.
The dickens of it is now that we've got to keep it from her, so Will
says; and how--hush! here they are," he broke off, as there came the
sound of wheels stopping before the house.

There followed the click of a key in the lock and the opening of a heavy
door; then, full in the glare of the electric lights stood a plainly
nervous man, and a girl with startled, appealing eyes.

"My dear," stammered William, "this is my sister, Kate, Mrs. Hartwell;
and here are Cyril and Bertram, whom I've told you of. An