Billy herself was frequently at the Annex. She told Aunt Hannah that she had to come often to bring the happiness--it accumulated so fast. Certainly she always found plenty to do there, whenever she came. There was Aunt Hannah to be read to, Mrs. Greggory to be sung to, and Tommy Dunn to be listened to; for Tommy Dunn was always quivering with eagerness to play her his latest “piece.” Billy knew that some day at the Annex she would meet Mr. M. J. Arkwright; and she told herself that she hoped she should. Billy had not seen Arkwright (except on the stage of the Boston Opera House) since the day he had left her presence in white-faced, stony-eyed misery after declaring his love for her, and learning of her engagement to Bertram. Since then, she knew, he had been much with his old friend, Alice Greggory. She did not believe, should she see him now, that he would be either white-faced, or stony-eyed. His heart, she was sure, had gone where it ought to have gone in the first place--to Alice. Such being, in her opinion, the case, she longed to get the embarrassment of a first meeting between themselves over with, for, after that, she was sure, their old friendship could be renewed, and she would be in a position to further this pretty love affair between him and Alice. Very decidedly, therefore, Billy wished to meet Arkwright. Very pleased, consequently, was she when, one day, coming into the living-room at the Annex, she found the man sitting by the fire. Arkwright was on his feet at once. “Miss--Mrs. H--Henshaw,” he stammered “Oh, Mr. Arkwright,” she cried, with just a shade of nervousness in her voice as she advanced, her hand outstretched. “I'm glad to see you.” “Thank you. I wanted to see Miss Greggory,” he murmured. Then, as the unconscious rudeness of his reply dawned on him, he made matters infinitely worse by an attempted apology. “That is, I mean--I didn't mean--” he began to stammer miserably. Some girls might have tossed the floundering man a straw in the shape of a light laugh intended to turn aside all embarrassment--but not Billy. Billy held out a frankly helping hand that was meant to set the man squarely on his feet at her side. “Mr. Arkwright, don't, please,” she begged earnestly. “You and I don't need to beat about the bush. I _am_ glad to see you, and I hope you're glad to see me. We're going to be the best of friends from now on, I'm sure; and some day, soon, you're going to bring Alice to see me, and we'll have some music. I left her up-stairs. She'll be down at once, I dare say--I met Rosa going up with your card. Good-by,” she finished with a bright smile, as she turned and walked rapidly from the room. Outside, on the steps, Billy drew a long breath. “There,” she whispered; “that's over--and well over!” The next minute she frowned vexedly. She had missed her glove. “Never mind! I sha'n't go back in there for it now, anyway,” she decided.