"The--_wedding?_" he asked, a little faintly.

"Yes. Didn't you know? My friend, Miss Hawthorn, is to marry Mr. Cyril
Henshaw next month."

The man opposite relaxed visibly.

"Oh, _Miss Hawthorn!_ No, I didn't know," he murmured; then, with sudden
astonishment he added: "And to Mr. Cyril, the musician, did you say?"

"Yes. You seem surprised."

"I am." Arkwright paused, then went on almost defiantly. "You see,
Calderwell was telling me only last September how very unmarriageable
all the Henshaw brothers were. So I am surprised--naturally," finished
Arkwright, as he rose to take his leave.

A swift crimson stained Billy's face.

"But surely you must know that--that--"

"That he has a right to change his mind, of course," supplemented
Arkwright smilingly, coming to her rescue in the evident confusion
that would not let her finish her sentence. "But Calderwell made it so
emphatic, you see, about all the brothers. He said that William had lost
his heart long ago; that Cyril hadn't any to lose; and that Bertram--"

"But, Mr. Arkwright, Bertram is--is--" Billy had moistened her lips, and
plunged hurriedly in to prevent Arkwright's next words. But again was
she unable to finish her sentence, and again was she forced to listen
to a very different completion from the smiling lips of the man at her
side.

"Is an artist, of course," said Arkwright. "That's what Calderwell
declared--that it would always be the tilt of a chin or the curve of a
cheek that the artist loved--to paint."

Billy drew back suddenly. Her face paled. As if _now_ she could tell
this man that Bertram Henshaw was engaged to her! He would find it out
soon, of course, for himself; and perhaps he, like Hugh Calderwell,
would think it was the curve of _her_ cheek, or the tilt of _her_ chin--

Billy lifted her chin very defiantly now as she held out her hand in
good-by.

CHAPTER IX. A RUG, A PICTURE, AND A GIRL AFRAID

Thanksgiving came. Once again the Henshaw brothers invited Billy and
Aunt Hannah to spend the day with them. This time, however, there was to
be an additional guest present in the person of Marie Hawthorn.

And what a day it was, for everything and everybody concerned! First
the Strata itself: from Dong Ling's kitchen in the basement to Cyril's
domain on the top floor, the house was as spick-and-span as Pete's eager
old hands could make it. In the drawing-room and in Bertram's den and
studio, great clusters of pink roses