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declare； when I see the woolen pads and rubber
hushers that that child has put everywhere all
over the house； I don't know whether to laugh
or cry。 And she's so worried！ It seems Cyril
must needs take just this time to start composing
a new opera or symphony； or something； and
never before has she allowed him to be interrupted
by anything on such an occasion。 But what he'll
do when the baby comes she says she doesn't
know； for she says she can'tshe just can't keep
it from bothering him some； she's afraid。 As if
any opera or symphony that ever lived was of
more consequence than a man's own child！''
finished Aunt Hannah； with an indignant sniff； as
she reached for her shawl。
CHAPTER XIX
A TOUGH NUT TO CRACK FOR CYRIL
It was early in the forenoon of the first day of
July that Eliza told her mistress that Mrs。
Stetson was asking for her at the telephone。 Eliza's
face was not a little troubled。
‘‘I'm afraid； maybe； it isn't good news；'' she
stammered； as her mistress hurriedly arose。
‘‘She's at Mr。 Cyril Henshaw'sMrs。 Stetson
isand she seemed so terribly upset about something
that there was no making real sense out of
what she said。 But she asked for you； and said
to have you come quick。''
Billy； her own face paling； was already at the
telephone。
‘‘Yes； Aunt Hannah。 What is it？''
‘‘Oh； my grief and conscience； Billy； if you
_can_； come up here； please。 You must come！
_Can't_ you come？''
‘‘Why； yes； of course。 Butbut_Marie！_
Thethe _baby！_''
A faint groan came across the wires。
‘‘Oh； my grief and conscience； Billy！ It isn't
_the_ baby。 It's _babies！_ It's twinsboys。 Cyril
has them nowthe nurse hasn't got here yet。''
‘‘Twins！ _Cyril_ has them！'' broke in Billy；
hysterically。
‘‘Yes； and they're crying something terrible。
We've sent for a second nurse to come； too； of
course； but she hasn't got here yet； either。 And
those babiesif you could hear them！ That's
what we want you for； to''
But Billy was almost laughing now。
‘‘All right； I'll come outand hear them；''
she called a bit wildly； as she hung up the receiver。
Some little time later； a palpably nervous maid
admitted Billy to the home of Mr。 and Mrs。 Cyril
Henshaw。 Even as the door was opened； Billy
heard faintly； but unmistakably； the moaning
wails of two infants。
‘‘Mrs。 Stetson says if you will please to help
Mr。 Henshaw with the babies；'' stammered the
maid； after the preliminary questions and
answers。 ‘‘I've been in when I could； and they're
all right； only they're crying。 They're in his den。
We had to put them as far away as possible
their crying worried Mrs。 Henshaw so。''
‘‘Yes； I see；'' murmured Billy。 ‘‘I'll go to
them at once。 No； don't trouble to come。 I
know the way。 Just tell Mrs。 Stetson I'm here；
please；'' she finished； as she tossed her hat and
gloves on to the hall table； and turned to go upstairs。
Billy's feet made no sound on the soft rugs。
The crying； however； grew louder and louder as
she approached the den。 Softly she turned the
knob and pushed open the door。 She stopped
short； then； at what she saw。
Cyril had not heard her； nor seen her。 His
back was partly toward the door。 His coat was
off； and his hair stood fiercely on end as if a
nervous hand had ruffled it。 His usually pale face
was very red； and his forehead showed great drops
of perspiration。 He was on his feet； hovering
over the couch； at each end of which lay a rumpled
roll of linen； lace； and flannel； from which emerged
a prodigiously puckered little face； two uncertainly
waving rose…leaf fists； and a wail of protesting
rage that was not uncertain in the least。
In one hand Cyril held a Teddy bear； in the
other his watch； dangling from its fob chain。
Both of these he shook feebly； one after the other；
above the tiny faces。
‘‘Oh； come； come； pretty baby； good baby；
hush； hush；'' he begged agitatedly。
In the doorway Billy clapped her hands to her
lips and stifled a laugh。 Billy knew； of course；
that what she should do was to go forward at
once； and help this poor； distracted man； but
Billy； just then； was not doing what she knew
she ought to do。
With a muttered ejaculation （which Billy； to
her sorrow； could not catch） Cyril laid down the
watch and flung the Teddy bear aside。 Then； in
very evident despair； he gingerly picked up one
of the rumpled rolls of flannel； lace； and linen；
and held it straight out before him。 After a
moment's indecision he began awkwardly to jounce
it； teeter it； rock it back and forth； and to pat it
jerkily。
‘‘Oh； come； come； pretty baby； good baby；
hush； hush；'' he begged again； frantically。
Perhaps it was the change of position； perhaps
it was the novelty of the motion； perhaps it was
only utter weariness； or lack of breath。 Whatever
the cause； the wailing sobs from the bundle
in his arms dwindled suddenly to a gentle whisper；
then ceased altogether。
With a ray of hope illuminating his drawn
countenance； Cyril carefully laid the baby down and
picked up the other。 Almost confidently now he
began the jouncing and teetering and rocking
as before。
‘‘There； there！ Oh； come； come； pretty baby；
good baby； hush； hush；'' he chanted again。
This time he was not so successful。 Perhaps
he had lost his skill。 Perhaps it was merely the
world…old difference in babies。 At all events； this
infant did not care for jerks and jounces； and
showed it plainly by emitting loud and yet louder
wails of ragewails in which his brother on the
couch speedily joined。
‘‘Oh； come； come； pretty baby； good baby；
hush； hush_confound it_； HUSH； I say！'' exploded
the frightened； weary； baffled； distracted man；
picking up the other baby； and trying to hold
both his sons at once。
Billy hurried forward then； tearfully； remorsefully；
her face all sympathy； her arms all tenderness。
‘‘Here； Cyril； let me help you；'' she cried。
Cyril turned abruptly。
‘‘Thank God； _some_ one's come；'' he groaned；
holding out both the babies； with an exuberance
of generosity。 ‘‘Billy； you've saved my life！''
Billy laughed tremulously。
‘‘Yes； I've come； Cyril； and I'll help every bit
I can； but I don't know a thingnot a single
thing about them myself。 Dear me； aren't they
cunning？ But； Cyril； do they always cry so？''
The father…of…an…hour drew himself stiffly erect。
‘‘Cry？ What do you mean？ Why shouldn't
they cry？'' he demanded indignantly。 ‘‘I want
you to understand that Doctor Brown said those
were A number I fine boys！ Anyhow； I guess
there's no doubt they've got lungs all right；'' he
added； with a grim smile； as he pulled out his
handkerchief and drew it across his perspiring
brow。
Billy did not have an opportunity to show Cyril
how much or how little she knew about babies；
f