gs her husband's
songs; he accompanies her. It is awfully fine to see the light on his
blind face as he listens, while her glorious voice comes pouring forth.
When the song is over, he gets up from the piano, gives her his arm, and
apparently leads her off. Very few people realise that, as a matter of
fact, she is guiding him. She gave, as an encore, a jolly little new
thing of his--quite simple--but everybody wanted it twice over; an air
like summer wind blowing through a pine wood, with an accompaniment like
a blackbird whistling; words something about 'On God's fair earth, 'mid
blossoms blue'--I forget the rest. Go ahead, Bill!"

"There is no room for sad despair,
When heaven's love is everywhere."

quoted Billy, who had an excellent memory.

Myra rose, hastily. "I must go in," she said. "But play as long as you
like."

Billy walked beside her towards the shrubbery. "May I come in and see
you, presently, dear Queen? There is something I want to say."

"Come when you will, Billy-boy," said Lady Ingleby, with a smile. "You
will find me in my sitting-room."

And Billy looked furtively at Ronald, hoping he had not seen. Words and
smile undoubtedly partook of the maternal!

* * * * *

It was a very grave-faced young man who, half an hour later, appeared in
Lady Ingleby's sitting-room, closing the door carefully behind him. Lady
Ingleby knew at once that he had come on some matter which, at all events
to himself, appeared of paramount importance. Billy's days of youthful
escapades were over. This must be something more serious.

She rose from her davenport and came to the sofa. "Sit down, Billy," she
said, indicating an armchair opposite--Lord Ingleby's chair, and little
Peter's. Both had now left it empty. Billy filled it readily, unconscious
of its associations.

"Rippin' flowers," remarked Billy, looking round the room.

"Yes," said Lady Ingleby. She devoutly hoped Billy was not going to
propose.

"Jolly room," said Billy; "at least, I always think so."

"Yes," said Lady Ingleby. "So do I."

Billy's eyes, roaming anxiously around for fresh inspiration, lighted on
the portrait over the mantelpiece. He started and paled. Then he knew his
hour had come. There must be no more beating about the bush.

Billy was a soldier, and a brave one. He had led a charge once, running
up a hill ahead of his men, in face of a perfect hail of bu