"Besides, they've sold the house now, you know. There's nowhere
for her to go but here, Bertram."
"All right," acquiesced the younger man, still doubtingly. "Maybe that's
so; maybe! But--" he did not finish his sentence, and his eyes were
troubled as he watched his brother begin to rearrange Billy's rooms.
In time, however, so sure was William of Billy's return to the Beacon
Street house, that Bertram ceased to question; and, with almost as much
confidence as William himself displayed, he devoted his energies to the
preparations for Billy's arrival.
And what preparations they were! Even Cyril helped this time to the
extent of placing on Billy's piano a copy of his latest book, and a pile
of new music. Nor were the melodies that floated down from the upper
floor akin to funeral marches; they were perilously near to being allied
to "ragtime."
At last everything was ready. There was not one more bit of dust to
catch Pete's eye, nor one more adornment that demanded William's careful
hand to adjust. In Billy's rooms new curtains graced the windows and new
rugs the floors. In Mrs. Stetson's, too, similar changes had been made.
The latest and best "Face of a Girl" smiled at one from above
Billy's piano, and the very rarest of William's treasures adorned the
mantelpiece. No guns nor knives nor fishing-rods met the eyes now.
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