“I suppose you don't happen to know if Cyril does wear big holes in his socks,” resumed Billy, after a moment's silence. “If you'll believe it, that thought popped into my head last night when Cyril was playing that concerto so superbly. It did, actually--right in the middle of the adagio movement, too. And in spite of my joy and pride in the music I had all I could do to keep from nudging Marie right there and then and asking her whether or not the dear man was hard on his hose.” “Billy!” gasped the shocked Aunt Hannah; but the gasp broke at once into what--in Aunt Hannah--passed for a chuckle. “If I remember rightly, when I was there at the house with you at first, my dear, William told me that Cyril wouldn't wear any sock after it came to mending.” “Horrors!” Billy waved her stocking in mock despair. “That will never do in the world. It would break Marie's heart. You know how she dotes on darning.” “Yes, I know,” smiled Aunt Hannah. “By the way, where is she this morning?” Billy raised her eyebrows quizzically. “Gone to look at an apartment in Cambridge, I believe. Really, Aunt Hannah, between her home-hunting in the morning, and her furniture-and-rug hunting in the afternoon, and her poring over house-plans in the evening, I can't get her to attend to her clothes at all. Never did I see a bride so utterly indifferent to her trousseau as Marie Hawthorn--and her wedding less than a month away!” “But she's been shopping with you once or twice, since she came back, hasn't she? And she said it was for her trousseau.” Billy laughed. “Her trousseau! Oh, yes, it was. I'll tell you what she got for her trousseau that first day. We started out to buy two hats, some lace for her wedding gown, some crêpe de Chine and net for a little dinner frock, and some silk for a couple of waists to go with her tailored suit; and what did we get? We purchased a new-style egg-beater and a set of cake tins. Marie got into the kitchen department and I simply couldn't get her out of it. But the next day I was not to be inveigled below stairs by any plaintive prayer for a nutmeg-grater or a soda spoon. She _shopped_ that day, and to some purpose. We accomplished lots.” Aunt Hannah looked a little concerned. “But she must have _some_ things started!” “Oh, she has--'most everything now. _I've_ seen to that. Of course her outfit is very simple, anyway. Marie hasn't much money, you know, and she simply won't let me do half what I want to. Still, she had saved up some money, and I've finally convinced her that a trousseau doesn't consist of egg-beaters and cake tins, and that Cyril would want her to look pretty. That name will fetch her every time, and I've learned to use it beautifully. I think if I told her Cyril approved of short hair and near-sightedness she'd I cut off her golden locks and don spectacles on the spot.” Aunt Hannah laughed softly.