r a moment Marie turned to Billy again.

"I'm so glad he wants--just puddings and stockings," she began a little
breathlessly. "You see, for so long I supposed he _wouldn't_ want
anything but a very brilliant, talented wife who could play and sing
beautifully; a wife he'd be proud of--like you."

"Me? Nonsense!" laughed Billy. "Cyril never wanted me, and I never
wanted him--only once for a few minutes, so to speak, when I thought,
I did. In spite of our music, we aren't a mite congenial. I like people
around; he doesn't. I like to go to plays; he doesn't. He likes rainy
days, and I abhor them. Mercy! Life with me for him would be one long
jangling discord, my love, while with you it'll be one long sweet song!"

Marie drew a deep breath. Her eyes were fixed on a point far ahead up
the curveless street.

"I hope it will, indeed!" she breathed.

Not until they were almost home did Billy say suddenly:

"Oh, did Cyril write you? A young relative of Aunt Hannah's is coming
to-morrow to stay a while at the house."

"Er--yes, Cyril told me," admitted Marie.

Billy smiled.

"Didn't like it, I suppose; eh?" she queried shrewdly.

"N-no, I'm afraid he didn't--very well. He said she'd be--one more to be
around."

"There, what did I tell you?" dimpled Billy. "You can see what you're
coming to when you do get that shaded lamp and the mending basket!"

A moment later, coming in sight of the house, Billy saw a tall,
smooth-shaven man standing on the porch. The man lifted his hat and
waved it gayly, baring a slightly bald head to the sun.

"It's Uncle William--bless his heart!" cried Billy. "They're all coming
to dinner, then he and Aunt Hannah and Bertram and I are going down to
the Hollis Street Theatre and let you and Cyril have a taste of what
that shaded lamp is going to be. I hope you won't be lonesome," she
finished mischievously, as the car drew up before the door.

CHAPTER VI. AT THE SIGN OF THE PINK

After a week of beautiful autumn weather, Thursday dawned raw and cold.
By noon an east wind had made the temperature still more uncomfortable.

At two o'clock Aunt Hannah tapped at Billy's chamber door. She showed a
troubled face to the girl who answered her knock.

"Billy, _would_ you mind very much if I asked you to go alone to the
Carletons' and to meet Mary Jane?" she inquired anxiously.

"Why, no--that is, of course I should _mind_, dear, because I always
like to have you go to places with me. Bu