Pete looked down at the hand, then up at the troubled young face with the beseeching eyes. His own features worked convulsively. With a visible effort he cleared his throat. “I know--what he said,” he stammered, his eyes averted. “What was it?” There was no answer. “Look here, Pete, you'll have to tell us, you know,” cut in Bertram, decisively, “so you might as well do it now as ever.” Once more Pete cleared his throat. This time the words came in a burst of desperation. “Yes, sir. I understand, sir. It was only that he said--he said as how young folks didn't _need_ any one else around. So he was goin'.” “Didn't _need_ any one else!” exclaimed Bertram, plainly not comprehending. “Yes, sir. You two bein' married so, now.” Pete's eyes were still averted. Billy gave a low cry. “You mean--because _I_ came?” she demanded. “Why, yes, Miss--no--that is--” Pete stopped with an appealing glance at Bertram. “Then it was--it _was_--on account of _me_,” choked Billy. Pete looked still more distressed “No, no!” he faltered. “It was only that he thought you wouldn't want him here now.” “Want him here!” ejaculated Bertram. “Want him here!” echoed Billy, with a sob. “Pete, where is he?” As she asked the question she dropped the mirror knobs into her open bag, and reached for her coat and gloves--she had not removed her hat. Pete gave the address. “It's just down the street a bit and up the hill,” he added excitedly, divining her purpose. “It's a sort of a boarding-house, I reckon.” “A _boarding-house_--for Uncle William!” scorned Billy, her eyes ablaze. “Come, Bertram, we'll see about that.” Bertram reached out a detaining hand. “But, dearest, you're so tired,” he demurred. “Hadn't we better wait till after dinner, or till to-morrow?” “After dinner! To-morrow!” Billy's eyes blazed anew. “Why, Bertram Henshaw, do you think I'd leave that dear man even one minute longer, if I could help it, with a notion in his blessed old head that we didn't _want_ him?” “But you said a little while ago you had a headache, dear,” still objected Bertram. “If you'd just eat your dinner!” “Dinner!” choked Billy. “I wonder if you think I could eat any dinner with Uncle William turned out of his home! I'm going to find Uncle William.” And she stumbled blindly toward the door. Bertram reached for his hat. He threw a despairing glance into Pete's eyes. “We'll be back--when we can,” he said, with a frown. “Yes, sir,” answered Pete, respectfully. Then, as if impelled by some hidden force, he touched his master's arm. “It was that way she looked, sir, when she came to _you_--that night last July--with her eyes all shining,” he whispered. A tender smile curved Bertram's lips. The frown vanished from his face. “Bless you, Pete--and bless her, too!” he whispered back. The next moment he had hurried after his wife.