a lifetime!" Bertram was out of his chair, again, tramping up
and down the little room.

Billy tossed her work aside and sprang to her feet. Her eyes, too, were
alight, now.

"But you aren't going to fail, dear," she cried, holding out both her
hands. "You're going to succeed!"

Bertram caught the hands and kissed first one then the other of their
soft little palms.

"Of course I am," he agreed passionately, leading her to the sofa, and
seating himself at her side.

"Yes, but you must really _feel_ it," she urged; "feel the '_sure_' in
yourself. You have to!--to doing things. That's what I told Mary Jane
yesterday, when he was running on about what _he_ wanted to do--in his
singing, you know."

Bertram stiffened a little. A quick frown came to his face.

"Mary Jane, indeed! Of all the absurd names to give a full-grown,
six-foot man! Billy, do, for pity's sake, call him by his name--if he's
got one."

Billy broke into a rippling laugh.

"I wish I could, dear," she sighed ingenuously.

"Honestly, it bothers me because I _can't_ think of him as anything but
'Mary Jane.' It seems so silly!"

"It certainly does--when one remembers his beard."

"Oh, he's shaved that off now. He looks rather better, too."

Bertram turned a little sharply.

"Do you see the fellow--often?"

Billy laughed merrily.

"No. He's about as disgruntled as you are over the way the wedding
monopolizes everything. He's been up once or twice to see Aunt Hannah
and to get acquainted, as he expresses it, and once he brought up some
music and we sang; but he declares the wedding hasn't given him half a
show."

"Indeed! Well, that's a pity, I'm sure," rejoined Bertram, icily.

Billy turned in slight surprise.

"Why, Bertram, don't you like Mary Jane?"

"Billy, for heaven's sake! _Hasn't_ he got any name but that?"

Billy clapped her hands together suddenly.

"There, that makes me think. He told Aunt Hannah and me to guess what
his name was, and we never hit it once. What do you think it is? The
initials are M. J."

"I couldn't say, I'm sure. What is it?"

"Oh, he didn't tell us. You see he left us to guess it."

"Did he?"

"Yes," mused Billy, abstractedly, her eyes on the dancing fire. The next
minute she stirred and settled herself more comfortably in the curve
of her lover's arm. "But there! who cares what his name is? I'm sure I
don't."

"Nor I," echoed Bertram in a voice that he tried to make not too
fervent. He had no