over for your things to-morrow. Come--now let's go home
to dinner."

William shook his head. He essayed a gay smile.

"Why, I've only just begun. I'm going to stay--oh, I don't know how long
I'm going to stay," he finished blithely.

Billy lifted her chin a little.

"Uncle William, you aren't playing square. Pete told us what you said
when you left."

"Eh? What?" William looked up with startled eyes.

"About--about our not _needing_ you. So we know, now, why you left; and
we _sha'n't stand_ it."

"Pete? That? Oh, that--that's nonsense I--I'll settle with Pete."

Billy laughed softly.

"Poor Pete! Don't. We simply dragged it out of him. And now we're here
to tell you that we _do_ want you, and that you _must_ come back."

Again William shook his head. A swift shadow crossed his face.

"Thank you, no, children," he said dully.

"You're very kind, but you don't need me. I should be just an interfering
elder brother. I should spoil your young married life." (William's voice
now sounded as if he were reciting a well-learned lesson.) "If I went
away and stayed two months, you'd never forget the utter freedom and joy
of those two whole months with the house all to yourselves."

"Uncle William," gasped Billy, "what _are_ you talking about?"

"About--about my not going back, of course."

"But you are coming back," cut in Bertram, almost angrily. "Oh, come,
Will, this is utter nonsense, and you know it! Come, let's go home to
dinner."

A stern look came to the corners of William's mouth--a look that Bertram
understood well.

"All right, I'll go to dinner, of course; but I sha'n't stay," said
William, firmly. "I've thought it all out. I know I'm right. Come, we'll
go to dinner now, and say no more about it," he finished with a cheery
smile, as he rose to his feet. Then, to the bride, he added: "Did you
have a nice trip, little girl?"

Billy, too, had risen, now, but she did not seem to have heard his
question. In the fast falling twilight her face looked a little white.

"Uncle William," she began very quietly, "do you think for a minute that
just because I married your brother I am going to live in that house and
turn you out of the home you've lived in all your life?"

"Nonsense, dear! I'm not turned out. I just go," corrected Uncle
William, gayly.

With superb disdain Billy brushed this aside.

"Oh, no, you won't," she declared; "but--_I shall_."

"Billy!" gasped Bertram.

"My--my dear!" expostul