“Yes. Oh, he told Bertram long ago he should go when we were married; that he had plenty much money, and was going back to China, and not be Melican man any longer. But I don't think Bertram thought he'd do it. William says Dong Ling went to Pete, however, after we left, and told him he wanted to go; that he liked the little Missee plenty well, but that there'd be too much hen-talk when she got back, and--” “Why, the impudent creature!” Billy laughed merrily. “Yes; Pete was furious, William says, but Dong Ling didn't mean any disrespect, I'm sure. He just wasn't used to having petticoats around, and didn't want to take orders from them; that's all.” “But, Billy, what will you do?” “Oh, Pete's fixed all that lovely,” returned Billy, nonchalantly. “You know his niece lives over in South Boston, and it seems she's got a daughter who's a fine cook and will be glad to come. Mercy! Look at the time,” she broke off, glancing at the clock. “I shall be late to dinner, and Dong Ling loathes anybody who's late to his meals--as I found out to my sorrow the night we got home. Good-by, dear. I'll be out soon again and fix it all up--about the Annex, you know.” And with a bright smile she was gone. “Dear me,” sighed Aunt Hannah, stooping to pick up the black shawl; “dear me! Of course everything will be all right--there's a girl coming, even if Dong Ling is going. But--but--Oh, my grief and conscience, what an extraordinary child Billy is, to be sure--but what a dear one!” she added, wiping a quick tear from her eye. “An Overflow Annex, indeed, for her 'extra happiness'! Now isn't that just like Billy?” CHAPTER V. TIGER SKINS September passed and October came, bringing with it cool days and clear, crisp evenings royally ruled over by a gorgeous harvest moon. According to Billy everything was just perfect--except, of course, poor Bertram's arm; and even the fact that that gained so slowly was not without its advantage (again according to Billy), for it gave Bertram more time to be with her. “You see, dear, as long as you _can't_ paint,” she told him earnestly, one day, “why, I'm not really hindering you by keeping you with me so much.” “You certainly are not,” he retorted, with a smile. “Then I may be just as happy as I like over it,” settled Billy, comfortably. “As if you ever could hinder me,” he ridiculed. “Oh, yes, I could,” nodded Billy, emphatically. “You forget, sir. That was what worried me so. Everybody, even the newspapers and magazines, said I _would_ do it, too. They said I'd slay your Art, stifle your Ambition, destroy your Inspiration, and be a nuisance generally. And Kate said--” “Yes. Well, never mind what Kate said,” interrupted the man, savagely. Billy laughed, and gave his ear a playful tweak.