“Yes, I know I did,” admitted Billy, “and I had an awful time, too. Some evenings, every single one of us, even to Uncle William, had to try before we could get him off to sleep. But that was before I got my 'Efficiency of Mother and Child,' or my 'Scientific Training,' and, oh, lots of others. You see, I didn't know a thing then, and I loved to rock him, so I did it--though the nurse said it wasn't good for him; but I didn't believe _her_. I've had an awful time changing; but I've done it. I just put him in his little crib, or his carriage, and after a while he goes to sleep. Sometimes, now, he doesn't cry hardly any. I'm afraid, to-day, though, he will,” she worried. “Yes, I'm afraid he will,” almost screamed Aunt Hannah, in order to make herself heard above Bertram, Jr., who, by this time, was voicing his opinion of matters and things in no uncertain manner. It was not, after all, so very long before peace and order reigned; and, in due course, Bertram, Jr., in his carriage, lay fast asleep. Then, while Aunt Hannah went to Billy's room for a short rest, Billy and Alice went out on to the wide veranda which faced the wonderful expanse of sky and sea. “Now tell me of yourself,” commanded Billy, almost at once. “It's been ages since I've heard or seen a thing of you.” “There's nothing to tell.” “Nonsense! But there must be,” insisted Billy. “You know it's months since I've seen anything of you, hardly.” “I know. We feel quite neglected at the Annex,” said Alice. “But I don't go anywhere,” defended Billy. “I can't. There isn't time.” “Even to bring us the extra happiness?” smiled Alice. A quick change came to Billy's face. Her eyes glowed deeply. “No; though I've had so much that ought to have gone--such loads and loads of extra happiness, which I couldn't possibly use myself! Sometimes I'm so happy, Alice, that--that I'm just frightened. It doesn't seem as if anybody ought to be so happy.” “Oh, Billy, dear,” demurred Alice, her eyes filling suddenly with tears. “Well, I've got the Annex. I'm glad I've got that for the overflow, anyway,” resumed Billy, trying to steady her voice. “I've sent a whole lot of happiness up there mentally, if I haven't actually carried it; so I'm sure you must have got it. Now tell me of yourself.” “There's nothing to tell,” insisted Alice, as before. “You're working as hard as ever?” “Yes--harder.” “New pupils?” “Yes, and some concert engagements--good ones, for next season. Accompaniments, you know.” Billy nodded. “Yes; I've heard of you already twice, lately, in that line, and very flatteringly, too.” “Have you? Well, that's good.” “Hm-m.” There was a moment's silence, then, abruptly, Billy changed the subject. “I had a letter from Belle Calderwell, yesterday.” She paused expectantly, but there was no comment. “You don't seem interested,” she frowned, after a minute. Alice laughed. “Pardon me, but--I don't know the Lady, you see. Was it a good letter?” “You know her brother.”