“Yes. I wish you could see that house, Arkwright. It's a regular layer cake. Cyril--he's the second brother; must be thirty-four or five now--lives on the top floor in a rugless, curtainless, music-mad existence--just a plain crank. Below him comes William. William collects things--everything from tenpenny nails to teapots, I should say, and they're all there in his rooms. Farther down somewhere comes Bertram. He's _the_ Bertram Henshaw, you understand; the artist.” “Not the 'Face-of-a-Girl' Henshaw?” “The same; only of course four years ago he wasn't quite so well known as he is now. Well, to resume and go on. It was into this house, this masculine paradise ruled over by Pete and Dong Ling in the kitchen, that Billy's naïve request for a home came.” “Great Scott!” breathed Arkwright, appreciatively. “Yes. Well, the letter was signed 'Billy.' They took her for a boy, naturally, and after something of a struggle they agreed to let 'him' come. For his particular delectation they fixed up a room next to Bertram with guns and fishing rods, and such ladylike specialties; and William went to the station to meet the boy.” “With never a suspicion?” “With never a suspicion.” “Gorry!” “Well, 'he' came, and 'she' conquered. I guess things were lively for a while, though. Oh, there was a kitten, too, I believe, 'Spunk,' who added to the gayety of nations.” “But what did the Henshaws do?” “Well, I wasn't there, of course; but Bertram says they spun around like tops gone mad for a time, but finally quieted down enough to summon a married sister for immediate propriety, and to establish Aunt Hannah for permanency the next day.” “So that's how it happened! Well, by George!” cried Arkwright. “Yes,” nodded the other. “So you see there are untold possibilities just in a name. Remember that. Just suppose _you_, as Mary Jane, should beg a home in a feminine household--say in Miss Billy's, for instance!” “I'd like to,” retorted Arkwright, with sudden warmth. Calderwell stared a little. The other laughed shamefacedly. “Oh, it's only that I happen to have a devouring curiosity to meet that special young lady. I sing her songs (you know she's written some dandies!), I've heard a lot about her, and I've seen her picture.” (He did not add that he had also purloined that same picture from his mother's bureau--the picture being a gift from Aunt Hannah.) “So you see I would, indeed, like to occupy a corner in the fair Miss Billy's household. I could write to Aunt Hannah and beg a home with her, you know; eh?”