ill be little--to see," he said.

Bertram assumed a pompous attitude.

"Ladies and gentlemen; you behold here the lion in his lair."

"Be still, Bertram," ordered Cyril.

"He is a lion, really," confided Bertram, in a lower voice; "but as he
prefers it, we'll just call him 'the Musical Man.'"

"I should think I was some sort of music-box that turned with a crank,"
bristled Cyril.

Bertram grinned.

"A--CRANK, did you say? Well, even I wouldn't have quite dared to say
that, you know!"

With an impatient gesture Cyril turned on his heel. Bertram fell once
more into his pompous attitude.

"Before you is the Man's workshop," he orated. "At your right you see
his instruments of tor--I mean, his instruments: a piano, flute, etc.
At your left is the desk with its pens, paper, erasers, ink and postage
stamps. I mention these because there are--er--so few things to mention
here. Beyond, through the open door, one may catch glimpses of still
other rooms; but they hold even less than this one holds. Tradition
doth assert, however, that in one is a couch-bed, and in another, two
chairs."

Billy listened silently. Her eyes were questioning. She was not
quite sure how to take Bertram's words; and the bare rooms and their
stern-faced master filled her with a vague pity. But the pause that
followed Bertram's nonsense seemed to be waiting for her to fill it.

"Oh, I should like to hear you--play, Mr. Cyril," she stammered. Then,
gathering courage. "CAN you play 'The Maiden's Prayer'?"

Bertram gave a cough, a spasmodic cough that sent him, red-faced, out
into the hall. From there he called:

"Can't stop for the animals to perform, Miss Billy. It's 'most dinner
time, and we've got lots to see yet."

"All right; but--sometime," nodded Billy over her shoulder to Cyril as
she turned away. "I just love that 'Maiden's Prayer'!"

"Now this is William's stratum," announced Bertram at the foot of the
stairs. "You will perceive that there is no knocking here; William's
doors are always open."

"By all means! Come in--come in," called William's cheery voice.

"Oh, my, what a lot of things!" exclaimed Billy. "My--my--what a lot of
things! How Spunk will like this room!"

Bertram chuckled; then he made a great display of drawing a long breath.

"In the short time at our disposal," he began loftily, "it will be
impossible to point out each particular article and give its history
from the beginning; but somewhere you will find