"I said closets and a piazza, dirt to dig, and a furnace to shake," she
retorted merrily. "I didn't say I wanted a husband."
"And you don't, of course," interposed William, decidedly. "You are much
too young for that."
"Yes, sir," agreed Billy demurely; but Bertram was sure he saw a twinkle
under the downcast lashes.
"And where is Cyril?" asked Mrs. Stetson, coming into the room at that
moment.
William stirred restlessly.
"Well, Cyril couldn't--couldn't come," stammered William with an uneasy
glance at his brother.
Billy laughed unexpectedly.
"It's too bad--about Mr. Cyril's not coming," she murmured. And again
Bertram caught the twinkle in the downcast eyes.
To Bertram the twinkle looked interesting, and worth pursuit; but at
the very beginning of the chase Calderwell's card came up, and that
ended--everything, so Bertram declared crossly to himself.
Billy found her dirt to dig in, and her furnace to shake, in Brookline.
There were closets, too, and a generous expanse of veranda. They all
belonged to a quaint little house perched on the side of Corey Hill.
From the veranda in the rear, and from many of the windows, one looked
out upon a delightful view of many-hued, many-shaped roofs nestling
among towering trees, with the wide sweep of the sky above, and the haze
of faraway hills at the horizon.
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