Did you think you were going to keep these songs to
yourself?"
"But they aren't worth it! They can't be--good enough!" Unbelieving joy
was in Billy's voice.
"No? Well, we'll let others decide that," observed Cyril, with a shrug.
"All is, if you've got any more wood--like this--I advise you to make it
up right away."
"But I have already!" cried the girl, excitedly. "There are lots of
little things that I've--that is, there are--some," she corrected
hastily, at the look that sprang into Cyril's eyes.
"Oh, there are," laughed Cyril. "Well, we'll see what--" But he did
not see. He did not even finish his sentence; for Billy's maid, Rosa,
appeared just then with a card.
"Show Mr. Calderwell in here," said Billy. Cyril said nothing--aloud;
which was well. His thoughts, just then, were better left unspoken.
CHAPTER XXVII
MARIE, WHO LONGS TO MAKE PUDDINGS
Wonderful days came then to Billy. Four songs, it seemed, had been
pronounced by competent critics decidedly "worth it"--unmistakably "good
enough"; and they were to be brought out as soon as possible.
"Of course you understand," explained Cyril, "that there's no 'hit'
expected. Thank heaven they aren't that sort! And there's no great money
in it, either. You'd have to write a masterpiece like 'She's my Ju-Ju
Baby' or some such gem to get the 'hit' and the money.
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