d. "As soon as that Jeal person goes away,
I shall have six little beefsteaks cooked and see to it personally
that you eat every one of them. And I'll cook a cherry pie--quick as
a cat can wink her eye--won't I, Billy? That Jeal person is a decided
nuisance," said Miss Hugonin, as she stabbed her hat rather viciously
with two hat-pins and then laid it aside on a table.

Billy Woods was looking up at her forlornly. It hurt her to see the
love and sorrow in his face. But oh, how avidly his soul drank in the
modulations of that longed-for voice--a voice that was honey and gold
and velvet and all that is most sweet and rich and soft in the world.

"Peggy," said he, plunging at the heart of things, "where's that
will?"

Miss Hugonin kicked forward a little foot-stool to the other side of
the fire, and sat down and complacently smoothed out her skirts.

"I knew it!" said she. "I never saw such a one-idea'd person in my
life. I knew that would be the very first thing you would ask for,
Billy Woods, because you're such an obstinate, stiffnecked _donkey_.
Very well!"--and Margaret tossed her head--"here's Uncle Fred's will,
then, and you can do _exactly_ as you like with it, and _now_ I hope
you're satisfied!" And Margaret handed him the long envelope which lay
in her lap.

Mr. Woods promptly opened it.

"That," Miss Hugonin commented, "is what I term very unladylike
behaviour on your part."

"You evidently don't trust me, Billy Woods. Very well! I don't care!
Read it carefully--very carefully, and make quite sure I haven't been
dabbling in forgery of late--besides, it's so good for your eyes, you
know, after being hit over the head," Margaret suggested, cheerfully.

Billy chuckled. "That's true," said he, "but I know Uncle Fred's fist
well enough without having to read it all. Candidly, Peggy, I _had_ to
look at it, because I--well, I didn't quite trust you, Peggy. And
now we're going to burn this interesting paper, you and I." "Wait!"
Margaret cried. "Ah, wait, just a moment, Billy!"

He glanced up at her in surprise, the paper still poised in his hand.

She sat with head drooped forward, her masculine little chin thrust
out eagerly, her candid eyes transparently appraising him.

"Why are you going to burn it, Billy?"

"Why?" Mr. Woods, repeated, thoughtfully. "Well, for a variety of
reasons. First is, that Uncle Fred really did leave his money to you,
and burning this is the only way of making sure you get it. W