“But what a beautiful ship--on that round one!” exclaimed Marie. “And what's this one?--glass?” “Yes; but that's not so rare as the others. Still, it's pretty enough. Did you notice this one, with the bright red and blue and green on the white background?--regular Chinese mode of decoration, that is.” “Er--any time, William,” began Bertram, mischievously; but William did not seem to hear. “Now in this corner,” he went on, warming to his subject, “are the enamelled porcelains. They were probably made at the Worcester works--England, you know; and I think many of them are quite as pretty as the Batterseas. You see it was at Worcester that they invented that variation of the transfer printing process that they called bat printing, where they used oil instead of ink, and gelatine instead of paper. Now engravings for that kind of printing were usually in stipple work--dots, you know--so the prints on these knobs can easily be distinguished from those of the transfer printing. See? Now, this one is--” “Er, of course, William, any time--” interposed Bertram again, his eyes twinkling. William stopped with a laugh. “Yes, I know. 'Tis time I talked of something else, Bertram,” he conceded. “But 'twas lovely, and I _was_ interested, really,” claimed Marie. “Besides, there are such a lot of things here that I'd like to see,” she finished, turning slowly about. “These are what he was collecting last year,” murmured Billy, hovering over a small cabinet where were some beautiful specimens of antique jewelry brooches, necklaces, armlets, Rajah rings, and anklets, gorgeous in color and exquisite in workmanship. “Well, here is something you _will_ enjoy,” declared Bertram, with an airy flourish. “Do you see those teapots? Well, we can have tea every day in the year, and not use one of them but five times. I've counted. There are exactly seventy-three,” he concluded, as he laughingly led the way from the room. “How about leap year?” quizzed Billy. “Ho! Trust Will to find another 'Old Blue' or a 'perfect treasure of a black basalt' by that time,” shrugged Bertram. Below William's rooms was the floor once Bertram's, but afterwards given over to the use of Billy and Aunt Hannah. The rooms were open to-day, and were bright with sunshine and roses; but they were very plainly unoccupied. “And you don't use them yet?” remonstrated Billy, as she paused at an open door. “No. These are Mrs. Bertram Henshaw's rooms,” said the youngest Henshaw brother in a voice that made Billy hurry away with a dimpling blush. “They were Billy's--and they can never seem any one's but Billy's, now,” declared William to Marie, as they went down the stairs. “And now for the den and some good stories before the fire,” proposed Bertram, as the six reached the first floor again. “But we haven't seen your pictures, yet,” objected Billy. Bertram made a deprecatory gesture.