“Why, Aunt Hannah, aren't you glad? You _said_ you'd be glad!” “Yes, dear; and I am--very glad. It's only--if it doesn't take too much time--and if Bertram doesn't mind.” Billy flushed. She laughed a little bitterly. “No, it won't take too much time, I fancy, and--so far as Bertram is concerned--if what Sister Kate says is true, Aunt Hannah, he'll be glad to have me occupy a little of my time with something besides himself.” “Fiddlededee!” bristled Aunt Hannah. “What did she mean by that?” Billy smiled ruefully. “Well, probably I did need it. She said it night before last just before she went home with Uncle William. She declared that I seemed to forget entirely that Bertram belonged to his Art first, before he belonged to me; and that it was exactly as she had supposed it would be--a perfect absurdity for Bertram to think of marrying anybody.” “Fiddlededee!” ejaculated the irate Aunt Hannah, even more sharply. “I hope you have too much good sense to mind what Kate says, Billy.” “Yes, I know,” sighed the girl; “but of course I can see some things for myself, and I suppose I did make--a little fuss about his going to New York the other night. And I will own that I've had a real struggle with myself sometimes, lately, not to mind--his giving so much time to his portrait painting. And of course both of those are very reprehensible--in an artist's wife,” she finished, a little tremulously. “Humph! Well, I don't think I should worry about that,” observed Aunt Hannah with grim positiveness. “No, I don't mean to,” smiled Billy, wistfully. “I only told you so you'd understand that it was just as well if I did have something to take up my mind--besides Bertram. And of course music would be the most natural thing.” “Yes, of course,” agreed Aunt Hannah. “And it seems actually almost providential that Mary--I mean Mr. Arkwright is here to help me, now that Cyril is gone,” went on Billy, still a little wistfully. “Yes, of course. He isn't like--a stranger,” murmured Aunt Hannah. Aunt Hannah's voice sounded as if she were trying to convince herself--of something. “No, indeed! He seems just like one of the family to me, almost as if he were really--your niece, Mary Jane,” laughed Billy. Aunt Hannah moved restlessly. “Billy,” she hazarded, “he knows, of course, of your engagement?” “Why, of course he does, Aunt Hannah everybody does!” Billy's eyes were plainly surprised. “Yes, yes, of course--he must,” subsided Aunt Hannah, confusedly, hoping that Billy would not divine the hidden reason behind her question. She was relieved when Billy's next words showed that she had not divined it. “I told you, didn't I? He's coming up this afternoon. He can't get here till five, though; but he's so interested! He's about as crazy over the thing as I am. And it's going to be fine, Aunt Hannah, when it's done. You just wait and see!” she finished gayly, as she tripped from the room. Left to herself, Aunt Hannah drew a long breath.