ow-moving creature on the hearthrug. "Spunkie, when I am your
mistress, you'll have to change either your name or your nature. As if
I were going to have such a bunch of independent moderation as you
masquerading as an understudy to my frisky little Spunk!"

Everybody laughed. William regarded his namesake with fond eyes as he
said:

"Spunkie doesn't seem to be worrying." The cat had jumped into Billy's
lap with a matter-of-course air that was unmistakable--and to Bertram,
adorable. Bertram's eyes, as they rested on Billy, were even fonder than
were his brother's.

"I don't think any one is--_worrying_," he said with quiet emphasis.

Billy smiled.

"I should think they might be," she answered. "Only think how dreadfully
upsetting I was in the first place!"

William's beaming face grew a little stern.

"Nobody knew it but Kate--and she didn't _know_ it; she only imagined
it," he said tersely.

Billy shook her head.

"I'm not so sure," she demurred. "As I look back at it now, I think I
can discern a few evidences myself--that I was upsetting. I was a bother
to Bertram in his painting, I am sure."

"You were an inspiration," corrected Bertram. "Think of the posing you
did for me."

A swift something like a shadow crossed Billy's face; but before her
lover could question its meaning, it was gone.

"And I know I was a torment to Cyril." Billy had turned to the musician
now.

"Well, I admit you were a little--upsetting, at times," retorted that
individual, with something of his old imperturbable rudeness.

"Nonsense!" cut in William, sharply. "You were never anything but a
comfort in the house, Billy, my dear--and you never will be."

"Thank you," murmured Billy, demurely. "I'll remember that--when Pete
and I disagree about the table decorations, and Dong Ling doesn't like
the way I want my soup seasoned."

An anxious frown showed on Bertram's face.

"Billy," he said in a low voice, as the others laughed at her sally,
"you needn't have Pete nor Dong Ling here if you don't want them."

"Don't want them!" echoed Billy, indignantly. "Of course I want them!"

"But--Pete _is_ old, and--"

"Yes; and where's he grown old? For whom has he worked the last fifty
years, while he's been growing old? I wonder if you think I'd let Pete
leave this house as long as he _wants_ to stay! As for Dong Ling--"

A sudden movement of Bertram's hand arrested her words. She looked up to
find Pete in the doorway.

"Dinner i