the reading of the will."

"Well, well," said Mr. Bradley slowly, "poor Beatrice Powerson dead at
last. I suppose she got as much out of life as any of us, though, in her
eccentric way."

"It was strange," remarked Billie slowly, "that I should have been
speaking of Aunt Beatrice only the other day. Violet wanted to know if
she was wealthy."

"Was she, Dad?" asked Chet, with interest.

"I imagine nobody knew," his father answered. "As you know, she was
queer, and as tight as a clam when it came to talking about her personal
affairs. The only thing we're sure of is that she had plenty of money to
travel anywhere she wanted to, and that's saying something these days."

"I say, Billie," cried Chet, his eyes shining with the thought--dear,
unselfish Chet, his first hope even then was more for Billie than
himself, "you are Aunt Beatrice's namesake, you know. Maybe she left you
something in her will."

"Chet," his mother chided gently, "don't you think it is rather heartless
to be counting on what Aunt Beatrice has left when we have just heard of
her death?"

"I suppose so," said Chet, rather abashed. "But then you know we only saw
her about once in every three years, and then she wasn't very friendly."

"Are you really going, Mother, you and Dad?" asked Billie, for it seemed
impossible to her that her father and mother should go off on such a long
journey and leave her and Chet behind. "Are you?" she asked again
anxiously.

"Yes, I suppose we must," said Mrs. Bradley, looking across at her
husband, who answered her with a smile.

"I don't see what else we can do," he replied, as he looked at his young
daughter. "You can keep house while we're gone, Billie, just to see how
you like it."

"Me keep house!" cried Billie, dismayed. "Why, I don't know the first
thing about it!"

"That's the best way to learn," returned her father, while Mrs. Bradley
began to smile. "Experience is the very best teacher, you know."

"That's all right, but you don't seem to realize that she will be
learning at my expense," groaned Chet, adding as a horrible thought
struck him: "Billie won't have to cook anything, will she?"

"Of course not," laughed Mrs. Bradley, and Chet sighed with relief.
"Debbie will be here as usual to do the cooking. And, of course," she
added to Billie, putting an arm about her and drawing her close, "Debbie
will help you with anything you want to know. We probably won't be gone
more than a week, anyway."