“What! _Who_, then?” “The design was furnished by Beeker, Toomer & Church, but it was not Church’s work.” “Whose, then?” And as he hesitated, she repeated the question earnestly, “Whose?” and waited breathlessly. King hesitated and stirred uneasily. “Mine,” he said, at length. Billee sat in strained silence. The information was for the moment beyond her comprehension. Her voice was a whisper when she spoke: “You mean--it is _your_ work--you designed that window?” “Yes. I am a draughtsman with Beeker, Toomer & Church, as you know. Did I never mention that art glass designs is my specialty there? Yes, it is my work. The little faces are half memory, half dream. One prays, one sleeps.” “Yours! Yours!” Her hand tightened in the hand that again clasped it, and shook. “You--you--furnished the memorial for my--my little girl’s mother!--for Agnes Vandilever! Then _you were_ the boy--the little girl loved! You’ve been carrying the face that was lifted above you that night--the face that slept on your breast--in your heart, all these years? Oh, King! King! it’s true! it’s true!--isn’t it?” She was trembling. Her hands tightened on his and her eyes were beseeching him. “Yes,” he answered, at length. “I was that boy. The little faces have been with me all these years. I rather think they may have kept me out of bad company sometimes, and from loneliness.” A sob shook Billee and suddenly she slipped forward to her knees and buried her face in her arms on the pew rail. Presently King reached out and laid his hand on her shoulder. “It doesn’t change anything Billee. There’s but one girl in the world for me--one grown-up girl. I am sorry for Miss Vandilever’s romance, but some day she will meet and marry a real man. They always do--these story girls. My little dream girls wouldn’t know her now, nor she them. It is you, who are the older vision of them, not the painted society belle.” “Thank you, King,” she sobbed, “that is good of you.” And then, with a wistful little smile, “Oh, King, you must succeed! _Do something great!_ Don’t let another man steal your talents, your fame--and your sweetheart!” CHAPTER VI