small；　well…shod　foot　beat　a　nervous　tattoo　on
  the　floor。
  ‘‘Oh；　is　that　you；　Alice？''　she　called　then。
  ‘‘Are　you　going　to　be　home　for　an　hour　or　two？''
  ‘‘Why；　y…yes；　yes；　indeed。''
  ‘‘Then　I'm　coming　over。　　We'll　play　duets；
  singanything。　　I　want　some　music。''
  ‘‘Do！　　AndMr。　Arkwright　is　here。　　He'll
  help。''
  ‘‘Mr。　Arkwright？　　You　say　he's　there？　　Then
  I　won't　　Yes；　I　will；　too。''　　Billy　spoke　with
  renewed　firmness。　　‘‘I'll　be　there　right　away。
  Good…by。''　　And　she　hung　up　the　receiver；　and
  went　to　tell　Pete　to　order　John　and　Peggy　at　once。
  ‘‘I　suppose　I　ought　to　have　left　Alice　and　Mr。
  Arkwright　alone　together；''　muttered　the　young
  wife　feverishly；　as　she　hurriedly　prepared　for
  departure。　　‘‘But　I'll　make　it　up　to　them　later。
  I'm　going　to　give　them　lots　of　chances。　　But　to…
  dayto…day　I　just　had　to　gosomewhere！''
  At　the　Annex；　with　Alice　Greggory　and
  Arkwright；　Billy　sang　duets　and　trios；　and　reveled　in
  a　sonorous　wilderness　of　new　music　to　her　heart's
  content。　　Then；　rested；　refreshed；　and　at　peace
  with　all　the　world；　she　hurried　home　to　dinner
  and　to　Bertram。
  ‘‘There！　　I　feel　better；''　she　sighed；　as　she　took
  off　her　hat　in　her　own　room；　‘‘and　now　I'll　go
  find　Bertram。　　Bless　his　heartof　course　he
  didn't　want　me　to　play　when　he　was　so　busy！''
  Billy　went　straight　to　the　studio；　but　Bertram
  was　not　there。　　Neither　was　he　in　William's　room；
  nor　anywhere　in　the　house。　　Down…stairs　in　the
  dining…room　Pete　was　found　looking　rather　white；
  leaning　back　in　a　chair。　　He　struggled　at　once　to
  his　feet；　however；　as　his　mistress　entered　the
  room。
  Billy　hurried　forward　with　a　startled　exclamation。
  ‘‘Why；　Pete；　what　is　it？　　Are　you　sick？''　she
  cried；　her　glance　encompassing　the　half…set　table。
  ‘‘No；　ma'am；　oh；　no；　ma'am！''　　The　old　man
  stumbled　forward　and　began　to　arrange　the　knives
  and　forks。　　‘‘It's　just　a　pesky　painbeggin'
  yer　pardonin　my　side。　　But　I　ain't　sick。　　No；
  Missma'am。''
  Billy　frowned　and　shook　her　head。　　Her　eyes
  were　on　Pete's　palpably　trembling　hands。
  ‘‘But；　Pete；　you　are　sick；''　she　protested。　　‘‘Let
  Eliza　do　that。''
  Pete　drew　himself　stiffly　erect。　　The　color　had
  begun　to　come　back　to　his　face。
  ‘‘There　hain't　no　one　set　this　table　much　but
  me　for　more'n　fifty　years；　an'　I've　got　a　sort　of
  notion　that　nobody　can　do　it　just　ter　suit　me。
  Besides；　I'm　better　now。　　It's　gonethat　pain。''
  ‘‘But；　Pete；　what　is　it？　　How　long　have　you
  had　it？''
  ‘‘I　hain't　had　it　any　time；　steady。　　It's　the
  comin'　an'　goin'　kind。　　It　seems　silly　ter　mind　it
  at　all；　only；　when　it　does　come；　it　sort　o'　takes
  the　backbone　right　out　o'　my　knees；　and　they
  double　up　so's　I　have　ter　set　down。　　There；　ye
  see？　　I'm　pert　as　a　sparrer；　now！''　　And；　with
  stiff　celerity；　Pete　resumed　his　task。
  His　mistress　still　frowned。
  ‘‘That　isn't　right；　Pete；''　she　demurred；　with
  a　slow　shake　of　her　head。　　‘‘You　should　see　a
  doctor。''
  The　old　man　paled　a　little。　　He　had　seen　a
  doctor；　and　he　had　not　liked　what　the　doctor
  had　told　him。　　In　fact；　he　stubbornly　refused　to
  believe　what　the　doctor　had　said。　　He　straightened
  himself　now　a　little　aggressively。
  ‘‘Humph！　　Beggin'　yer　pardon；　Missma'am；
  but　I　don't　think　much　o'　them　doctor　chaps。''
  Billy　shook　her　head　again　as　she　smiled
  and　turned　away。　　Then；　as　if　casually；　she
  asked：
  ‘‘Oh；　did　Mr。　Bertram　go　out；　Pete？''
  ‘‘Yes；　Miss；　about　five　o'clock。　　He　said　he'd
  be　back　to　dinner。''
  ‘‘Oh！　　All　right。''
  From　the　hall　the　telephone　jangled　sharply。
  ‘‘I'll　go；''　said　Pete's　mistress；　as　she　turned
  and　hurried　up…stairs。
  It　was　Bertram's　voice　that　answered　her
  opening　‘‘Hullo。''
  ‘‘Oh；　Billy；　is　that　you；　dear？　　Well；　you're
  just　the　one　I　wanted。　　I　wanted　to　saythat
  is；　I　wanted　to　ask　you''　　The　speaker　cleared
  his　throat　a　little　nervously；　and　began　all　over
  again。　　‘‘The　fact　is；　Billy；　I've　run　across　a
  couple　of　old　classmates　on　from　New　York；　and
  they　are　very　anxious　I　should　stay　down　to　dinner
  with　them。　　Would　you　mindvery　much　if　I
  did？''
  A　cold　hand　seemed　to　clutch　Billy's　heart。
  She　caught　her　breath　with　a　little　gasp　and　tried
  to　speak；　but　she　had　to　try　twice　before　the
  words　came。
  ‘‘Why；　nono；　of　course　not！''　Billy's　voice
  was　very　high…pitched　and　a　little　shaky；　but　it
  was　surpassingly　cheerful。
  ‘‘You　sure　you　won't　belonesome？''　Bertram's
  voice　was　vaguely　troubled。
  ‘‘Of　course　not！''
  ‘‘You've　only　to　say　the　word；　little　girl；''
  came　Bertram's　anxious　tones　again；　‘‘and　I
  won't　stay。''
  Billy　swallowed　convulsively。　　If　only；　only　he
  would　_stop_　and　leave　her　to　herself！　　As　if　she　were
  going　to　own　up　that　_she_　was　lonesome　for　_him_
  if　_he_　was　not　lonesome　for　_her！_
  ‘‘Nonsense！　of　course　you'll　stay；''　called　Billy；
  still　in　that　high…pitched；　shaky　treble。　　Then；
  before　Bertram　could　answer；　she　uttered　a　gay
  ‘‘Good…by！''　and　hung　up　the　receiver。
  Billy　had　ten　whole　minutes　in　which　to　cry
  before　Pete's　gong　sounded　for　dinner；　but　she
  had　only　one　minute　in　which　to　try　to　efface
  the　woefully　visible　effects　of　those　ten　minutes
  before　William　tapped　at　her　door；　and　called：
  ‘‘Gone　to　sleep；　my　dear？　　Dinner's　ready。
  Didn't　you　hear　the　gong？''
  ‘‘Yes；　I'm　coming；　Uncle　William。''　　Billy
  spoke　with　breezy　gayety；　and　threw　open　the
  door；　but　she　did　not　meet　Uncle　William's　eyes。
  Her　head　was　turned　away。　　Her　hands　were
  fussing　with　the　hang　of　her　skirt。
  ‘‘Bertram's　dining　out；　Pete　tells　me；''　observed
  William；　with　cheerful　nonchalance；　as　they　went
  down…stairs　together。
  Billy　bit　her　lip　and　looked　up　sharply。　　She
  had　been　bracing　herself　to　meet　with　disdainful
  indifference　this　man's　pitythe　pity　due　a　poor
  neglected　wife　whose　husband　_preferred_　to　dine
  with　old　classmates　rather　than　with　herself。
  Now　she　found　in　William's　face；　not　pity；　but　a
  calm；　even　jovial；　acceptance　of　the　situation　as　a
  matter　of　course。　　She　had　known　she　was　going
  to　hate　that　pity；　but　now；　curiously　enough；　she
  was　conscious　only　of　anger　that　the　pity　was
  not　therethat　she　might　hate　it。
  She　tossed　her　head　a　little。　　So　even　William
  Uncle　Williamregarded　this　monstrous　thing
  as　an　insignificant　matter　of　everyday　experience。
  Maybe　he　expected　it　to　occur　frequentlyevery
  night；　or　so。　　Doubtless　he　did　expect　it　to　occur
  every　night；　or　so。　　Indeed！　　Very　well。　　As　if　she
  were　going　to　show　_now_　that　she　cared　whether
  Bertram　were　there　or　not！　　They　should　see。
  So　with　head　held　high　and　eyes　asparkle；　Billy
  marched　into　the　dining…room　and　took　her　accustomed　place。
  CHAPTER　VII
  THE　BIG　BAD　QUARREL
  It　was　a　brilliant　dinnerbecause　Billy　made
  it　so。　　At　first　William　met　her　sallies　of　wit　with
  mild　surprise；　but　it　was　not　long　before　he　rose
  gallantly　to　the　occasion；　and　gave　back　full
  measure　of　retort。　　Even　Pete　twice　had　to　turn
  his　back　to　hide　a　smile；　and　once　his　hand　shook
  so　that　the　tea　he　was　carrying　almost　spilled。
  This　threatened　catastrophe；　however；　seemed　to
  frighten　him　so　much　that　his　face　was　very　grave
  throughout　the　rest　of　the　dinner。
  Still　laughing　and　talking　gayly；　Billy　and
  Uncle　William；　after　the　meal　was　over；　ascended
  to　the　drawing…room。　　There；　however；　the　man；
  in　spite　of　the　young　woman's　gay　badinage；　fell
  to　dozing　in　the　big　chair　before　the　fire；　leaving
  Billy　with　only　Spunkie　for　companySpunkie；
  who；　disdaining　every　effort　to　entice　her　into　a
  romp；　only　winked　and　blinked　stupid　eyes；　and
  finally　curled　herself　on　the　rug　for　a　nap。
  Billy；　left　to　her　own　devices；　glanced　at　her
  watch。
  Half…past　seven！　　Time；　almost；　for　Bertram
  to　be　coming。　　He　had　said　‘‘dinner''；　and；　of
  course；　after　dinner　was　over　he　would　be　coming
  hometo　her。　　Very　well；　she　would　show　him
  that　she　had　at　least　got　along　without　him　as
  well　as　he　had　without　her。　　At　all　events　he
  would　not　find　her　forlornly　sitting　with　her　nose
  pressed　against　the　window…pane！　　And　forthwith
  Billy　established　herself　in　a　big　chair　（with　its
  back　carefully　turned　toward　the　door　by　which
  Bertram　would　enter）；　and　opened　a　book。
  Five；　ten；　fifteen　minutes　passed。　　Billy
  fidgeted　in　her　chair；　twisted　her　neck　to　look　out
  into　the　halland　dropped　her　book　with　a
  bang。
  Uncle　William　jerked　himself　awake；　and
  Spunkie　opened　sleepy　eyes。　　Then　both　settled
  themselves　for　another　nap。　　Billy　sighed；　picked
  up　her　book；　and　flounced　back　into　her　chair。
  But　she　did　not　read。　　Disconsolately　she　sat
  staring　straight　aheaduntil　a　quick　step　on
  the　sidewalk　outside　stirred　her　into　instant　action。
  Assuming　a　look　of　absorbed　interest　she　twitched
  the　book　open　and　held　it　before　her　face。　。　。　。
  Bu