t, after all. He came here," she added, as Billy turned to go.

"Bertram!" The girl wheeled sharply.

"Yes. He wanted you, of course. I found I didn't do, at all," chuckled
Aunt Hannah. "Did you suppose I would?"

There was no answer. Billy had gone.

In the long night watches Billy fought it out with herself. (Billy had
always fought things out with herself.) She must go away. She knew that.
Already Bertram had telephoned, and called. He evidently meant to see
her--and she could not see him. She dared not. If she did--Billy knew
now how pitifully little it would take to make her actually _willing_ to
slay Bertram's Art, stifle his Ambition, destroy his Inspiration, and be
a nuisance generally--if only she could have Bertram while she was doing
it all. Sternly then she asked herself if she had no pride; if she had
forgotten that it was because of her that the Winthrop portrait had not
been a success--because of her, either for the reason that he loved now
Miss Winthrop, or else that he loved no girl--except to paint.

Very early in the morning a white-faced, red-eyed Billy appeared at Aunt
Hannah's bedside.

"Billy!" exclaimed Aunt Hannah, plainly appalled.

Billy sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Aunt Hannah," she began in a monotonous voice as if she were reciting
a lesson she had learned by heart, "please listen, and please try not to
be too surprised. You were saying the other day that you would like to
visit your old home town. Well, I think that's a very nice idea. If you
don't mind we'll go to-day."

Aunt Hannah pulled herself half erect in bed.

"_To-day_--child?"

"Yes," nodded Billy, unsmilingly. "We shall have to go somewhere to-day,
and I thought you would like that place best."

"But--Billy!--what does this mean?"

Billy sighed heavily.

"Yes, I understand. You'll have to know the rest, of course. I've broken
my engagement. I don't want to see Bertram. That's why I'm going away."

Aunt Hannah fell nervelessly back on the pillow. Her teeth fairly
chattered.

"Oh, my grief and conscience--_Billy!_ Won't you please pull up that
blanket," she moaned. "Billy, what do you mean?"

Billy shook her head and got to her feet.

"I can't tell any more now, really, Aunt Hannah. Please don't ask me;
and don't--talk. You _will_--go with me, won't you?" And Aunt Hannah,
with her terrified eyes on Billy's piteously agitated face, nodded her
head and choked:

"Why, of course I'll go--anywhere--with