o give. As to Pete--Pete was in his
element. Pete loved boys. Had he not served them nearly all his life?
Incidentally it may be mentioned that he did not care for girls.

Only Cyril held himself aloof. But that he was not oblivious of the
proceedings below him was evidenced by the somber bass that floated down
from his piano strings. Cyril always played according to the mood that
was on him; and when Bertram heard this morning the rhythmic beats of
mournfulness, he chuckled and said to William:

"That's Chopin's Funeral March. Evidently Cy thinks this is the death
knell to all his hopes of future peace and happiness."

"Dear me! I wish Cyril would take some interest," grieved William.

"Oh, he takes interest all right," laughed Bertram, meaningly. "He takes
INTEREST!"

"I know, but--Bertram," broke off the elder man, anxiously, from his
perch on the stepladder, "would you put the rifle over this window, or
the fishing-rod?"

"Why, I don't think it makes much difference, so long as they're
somewhere," answered Bertram. "And there are these Indian clubs and the
swords to be disposed of, you know."

"Yes; and it's going to look fine; don't you think?" exulted William.
"And you know for the wall-space between the windows I'm going to bring
down that case of mine, of spiders."

Bertram raised his hands in mock surprise.

"Here--down here! You're going to trust any of those precious treasures
of yours down here!"

William frowned.

"Nonsense, Bertram, don't be silly! They'll be safe enough. Besides,
they're old, anyhow. I was on spiders years ago--when I was Billy's age,
in fact. I thought he'd like them here. You know boys always like such
things."

"Oh, 'twasn't Billy I was worrying about," retorted Bertram. "It was
you--and the spiders."

"Not much you worry about me--or anything else," replied William,
good-humoredly. "There! how does that look?" he finished, as he
carefully picked his way down the stepladder.

"Fine!--er--only rather warlike, maybe, with the guns and that riotous
confusion of knives and scimitars over the chiffonier. But then, maybe
you're intending Billy for a soldier; eh?"

"Do you know? I AM getting interested in that boy," beamed William, with
some excitement. "What kind of things do you suppose he does like?"

"There's no telling. Maybe he's a sissy chap, and will howl at your guns
and spiders. Perhaps he'll prefer autumn leaves and worsted mottoes for
decoration."

"Not much