“Write it? Oh, no! That's only what I _wanted_ to write,” chuckled Billy. “What I really did write was as staid and proper as--here, let me show you,” she broke off, springing to her feet and running over to her desk. “There! this is about what I wrote to them all,” she finished, whipping a note out of one of the unsealed envelopes on the desk and spreading it open before Aunt Hannah's suspicious eyes. “Hm-m; that is very good--for you,” admitted the lady. “Well, I like that!--after all my stern self-control and self-sacrifice to keep out all those things I _wanted_ to write,” bridled Billy. “Besides, they'd have been ever so much more interesting reading than these will be,” she pouted, as she took the note from her companion's hand. “I don't doubt it,” observed Aunt Hannah, dryly. Billy laughed, and tossed the note back on the desk. “I'm writing to Belle Calderwell, now,” she announced musingly, dropping herself again on the hassock. “I suppose she'll tell Hugh.” “Poor boy! He'll be disappointed.” Billy sighed, but she uptilted her chin a little. “He ought not to be. I told him long, long ago, the very first time, that--that I couldn't.” “I know, dear; but--they don't always understand.” Aunt Hannah sighed in sympathy with the far-away Hugh Calderwell, as she looked down at the bright young face near her. There was a moment's silence; then Billy gave a little laugh. “He _will_ be surprised,” she said. “He told me once that Bertram wouldn't ever care for any girl except to paint. To paint, indeed! As if Bertram didn't love me--just _me!_--if he never saw another tube of paint!” “I think he does, my dear.” Again there was silence; then, from Billy's lips there came softly: “Just think; we've been engaged almost four weeks--and to-morrow it'll be announced. I'm so glad I didn't ever announce the other two!” “The other _two!_” cried Aunt Hannah. Billy laughed. “Oh, I forgot. You didn't know about Cyril.” “Cyril!” “Oh, there didn't anybody know it, either not even Cyril himself,” dimpled Billy, mischievously. “I just engaged myself to him in imagination, you know, to see how I'd like it. I didn't like it. But it didn't last, anyhow, very long--just three weeks, I believe. Then I broke it off,” she finished, with unsmiling mouth, but dancing eyes. “Billy!” protested Aunt Hannah, feebly. “But I _am_ glad only the family knew about my engagement to Uncle William--oh, Aunt Hannah, you don't know how good it does seem to call him 'Uncle' again. It was always slipping out, anyhow, all the time we were engaged; and of course it was awful then.” “That only goes to prove, my dear, how entirely unsuitable it was, from the start.” A bright color flooded Billy's face. “I know; but if a girl _will_ think a man is asking for a wife when all he wants is a daughter, and if she blandly says 'Yes, thank you, I'll marry you,' I don't know what you can expect!”