“But you should hear Mrs. Henshaw tell the story now, or Bertram. It seems she knew nothing whatever about cooking, and her trials and tribulations in getting that dinner on to the table were only one degree worse than the dinner itself, according to her story. Didn't you--er--notice anything?” “Notice anything!” exploded Calderwell. “I noticed that Billy was so brilliant she fairly radiated sparks; and I noticed that Bertram was so glum he--he almost radiated thunderclaps. Then I saw that Billy's high spirits were all assumed to cover a threatened burst of tears, and I laid it all to him. I thought he'd said something to hurt her; and I could have punched him. Great Scott! Was _that_ what ailed them?” “I reckon it was. Alice says that since then Mrs. Henshaw has fairly haunted the kitchen, begging Eliza to teach her everything, _every single thing_ she knows!” Calderwell chuckled. “If that isn't just like Billy! She never does anything by halves. By George, but she was game over that dinner! I can see it all now.” “Alice says she's really learning to cook, in spite of old Pete's horror, and Eliza's pleadings not to spoil her pretty hands.” “Then Pete is back all right? What a faithful old soul he is!” Arkwright frowned slightly. “Yes, he's faithful, but he isn't all right, by any means. I think he's a sick man, myself.” “What makes Billy let him work, then?” “Let him!” sniffed Arkwright. “I'd like to see you try to stop him! Mrs. Henshaw begs and pleads with him to stop, but he scouts the idea. Pete is thoroughly and unalterably convinced that the family would starve to death if it weren't for him; and Mrs. Henshaw says that she'll admit he has some grounds for his opinion when one remembers the condition of the kitchen and dining-room the night she presided over them.” “Poor Billy!” chuckled Calderwell. “I'd have gone down into the kitchen myself if I'd suspected what was going on.” Arkwright raised his eyebrows. “Perhaps it's well you didn't--if Bertram's picture of what he found there when he went down is a true one. Mrs. Henshaw acknowledges that even the cat sought refuge under the stove.” “As if the veriest worm that crawls ever needed to seek refuge from Billy!” scoffed Calderwell. “By the way, what's this Annex I hear of? Bertram mentioned it, but I couldn't get either of them to tell what it was. Billy wouldn't, and Bertram said he couldn't--not with Billy shaking her head at him like that. So I had my suspicions. One of Billy's pet charities?” “She doesn't call it that.” Arkwright's face and voice softened. “It is Hillside. She still keeps it open. She calls it the Annex to her home. She's filled it with a crippled woman, a poor little music teacher, a lame boy, and Aunt Hannah.” “But how--extraordinary!” “She doesn't think so. She says it's just an overflow house for the extra happiness she can't use.”