eakfast Billy went straight to the telephone and called up
Arkwright. Even one side of the conversation Aunt Hannah did not hear
very clearly; but in five minutes a radiant-faced Billy danced into the
room.

"Aunt Hannah, just listen! Only think--Mary Jane wrote the words
himself, so of course I can use them!"

"Billy, dear, _can't_ you say 'Mr. Arkwright'?" pleaded Aunt Hannah.

Billy laughed and gave the anxious-eyed little old lady an impulsive
hug.

"Of course! I'll say 'His Majesty' if you like, dear," she chuckled.
"But did you hear--did you realize? They're his own words, so there's no
question of rights or permission, or anything. And he's coming up this
afternoon to hear my melody, and to make a few little changes in the
words, maybe. Oh, Aunt Hannah, you don't know how good it seems to get
into my music again!"

"Yes, yes, dear, of course; but--" Aunt Hannah's sentence ended in a
vaguely troubled pause.

Billy turned in surprise.

"Why, Aunt Hannah, aren't you glad? You _said_ you'd be glad!"

"Yes, dear; and I am--very glad. It's only--if it doesn't take too much
time--and if Bertram doesn't mind."

Billy flushed. She laughed a little bitterly.

"No, it won't take too much time, I fancy, and--so far as Bertram is
concerned--if what Sister Kate says is true, Aunt Hannah, he'll be glad
to have me occupy a little of my time with something besides himself."

"Fiddlededee!" bristled Aunt Hannah.

"What did she mean by that?"

Billy smiled ruefully.

"Well, probably I did need it. She said it night before last just before
she went home with Uncle William. She declared that I seemed to forget
entirely that Bertram belonged to his Art first, before he belonged to
me; and that it was exactly as she had supposed it would be--a perfect
absurdity for Bertram to think of marrying anybody."

"Fiddlededee!" ejaculated the irate Aunt Hannah, even more sharply. "I
hope you have too much good sense to mind what Kate says, Billy."

"Yes, I know," sighed the girl; "but of course I can see some things for
myself, and I suppose I did make--a little fuss about his going to New
York the other night. And I will own that I've had a real struggle with
myself sometimes, lately, not to mind--his giving so much time to
his portrait painting. And of course both of those are very
reprehensible--in an artist's wife," she finished, a little tremulously.

"Humph! Well, I don't think I should worry about that," observed Aun