p toward
him.

"You'll miss Mr. Cyril, Pete," she said pleasantly.

The old man stopped at once and turned. He lifted his head a little
proudly.

"Yes, Miss. I--I was there when he was born. Mr. Cyril's a fine man."

"Indeed he is. Perhaps it's your good care that's helped, some--to make
him so," smiled the girl, vaguely wishing that she could say something
that would drive the wistful look from the dim old eyes before her.

For a moment Billy thought she had succeeded. The old servant drew
himself stiffly erect. In his eyes shone the loyal pride of more than
fifty years' honest service. Almost at once, however, the pride died
away, and the wistfulness returned.

"Thank ye, Miss; but I don't lay no claim to that, of course," he said.
"Mr. Cyril's a fine man, and we shall miss him; but--I cal'late changes
must come--to all of us."

Billy's brown eyes grew a little misty.

"I suppose they must," she admitted.

The old man hesitated; then, as if impelled by some hidden force, he
plunged on:

"Yes; and they'll be comin' to you one of these days, Miss, and that's
what I was wantin' to speak to ye about. I understand, of course, that
when you get there you'll be wantin' younger blood to serve ye. My feet
ain't so spry as they once was, and my old hands blunder sometimes,
in spite of what my head bids 'em do. So I wanted to tell ye--that of
course I shouldn't expect to stay. I'd go."

As he said the words, Pete stood with head and shoulders erect, his eyes
looking straight forward but not at Billy.

"Don't you _want_ to stay?" The girlish voice was a little reproachful.

Pete's head drooped.

"Not if--I'm not wanted," came the husky reply.

With an impulsive movement Billy came straight to the old man's side and
held out her hand.

"Pete!"

Amazement, incredulity, and a look that was almost terror crossed the
old man's face; then a flood of dull red blotted them all out and left
only worshipful rapture. With a choking cry he took the slim little hand
in both his rough and twisted ones much as if he were possessing himself
of a treasured bit of eggshell china.

"Miss Billy!"

"Pete, there aren't a pair of feet in Boston, nor a pair of hands,
either, that I'd rather have serve me than yours, no matter if they
stumble and blunder all day! I shall love stumbles and blunders--if you
make them. Now run home, and don't ever let me hear another syllable
about your leaving!"

They were not the words Billy ha