Billy dropped her hands then, and they saw her face. She was not crying. She was laughing. She was laughing so she could scarcely speak. “Oh, you did, you did!” she gurgled. “I thought you did, and now I know!” “Did what? What do you mean?” William's usually gentle voice was sharp. Even William's nerves were beginning to feel the strain of the last few hours. “Thought I was a--b-boy!” choked Billy. “You called me 'he' once in the station--I thought you did; but I wasn't sure--not till I saw this room. But now I know--I know!” And off she went into another hysterical gale of laughter--Billy's nerves, too, were beginning to respond to the excitement of the last few hours. As to the three men and the woman, they stood silent, helpless, looking into each other's faces with despairing eyes. In a moment Billy was on her feet, fluttering about the room, touching this thing, looking at that. Nothing escaped her. “I'm to fish--and shoot--and fence!” she crowed. “And, oh!--look at those knives! U-ugh!... And, my! what are these?” she cried, pouncing on the Indian clubs. “And look at the spiders! Dear, dear, I AM glad they're dead, anyhow,” she shuddered with a nervous laugh that was almost a sob. Something in Billy's voice stirred Mrs. Hartwell to sudden action. “Come, come, this will never do,” she protested authoritatively, motioning her brothers to leave the room. “Billy is quite tired out, and needs rest. She mustn't talk another bit to-night.” “Of c-course not,” stammered William. And only too glad of an excuse to withdraw from a very embarrassing situation, the three men called back a faltering good-night, and precipitately fled down-stairs. CHAPTER IX A FAMILY CONCLAVE “Well, William,” greeted Kate, grimly, when she came into the drawing-room, after putting her charge to bed, “have you had enough, now?” “'Enough'! What do you mean?” Kate raised her eyebrows. “Why, surely, you're not thinking NOW that you can keep this girl here; are you?” “I don't know why not.” “William!” “Well, where shall she go? Will you take her?” “I? Certainly not,” declared Kate, with decision. “I'm sure I see no reason why I should.” “No more do I see why William should, either,” cut in Cyril. “Oh, come, what's the use,” interposed Bertram. “Let her stay. She's a nice little thing, I'm sure.” Cyril and Kate turned sharply. “Bertram!” The cry was a duet of angry amazement. Then Kate added: “It seems that you, too, have come under the sway of dark eyes, pink cheeks, and an unknown quantity of curly hair!” Bertram laughed. “Oh, well, she would be nice to--er--paint,” he murmured. “See here, children,” demurred William, a little sternly, “all this is wasting time. There is no way out of it. I wouldn't be seen turning that homeless child away now. We must keep her; that's settled. The question is, how shall it be done? We must have some woman friend here to be her companion, of course; but whom shall we get?”