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frown followed the laugh。
‘‘I know； Bertram； I suppose they do look
dowdy； sometimes；'' she confessed； ‘‘but； you
see； I hate to wear a really good dressBaby
rumples them up so； and I'm usually in a hurry
to get to him mornings； and these are so easy to
slip into； and so much more comfortable for me
to handle him in！''
‘‘Yes； of course； of course； I see；'' mumbled
Bertram； listlessly taking up his walk again。
Billy； after a moment's silence； began to talk
animatedly。 Baby had done a wonderfully cunning
thing that morning； and Billy had not had
a chance yet to tell Bertram。 Baby was growing
more and more cunning anyway； these days；
and there were several things she believed she
had not told him； so she told them now。
Bertram listened politely； interestedly。 He
told himself that he _was_ interested； too。 Of
course he was interested in the doings of his own
child！ But he still walked up and down the room
a little restlessly； coming to a halt at last by the
window； across which the shade had not been
drawn。
‘‘Billy；'' he cried suddenly； with his old
boyish eagerness； ‘‘there's a glorious moon。 Come
on！ Let's take a little walka real fellow…and…
his…best…girl walk！ Will you？''
‘‘Mercy！ dear； I couldn't；'' cried Billy
springing to her feet。 ‘‘I'd love to； though； if I could；''
she added hastily； as she saw disappointment
cloud her husband's face。 ‘‘But I told Delia she
might go out。 It isn't her regular evening； of
course； but I told her I didn't mind staying with
Baby a bit。 So I'll have to go right up now。
She'll be going soon。 But； dear； you go and take
your walk。 It'll do you good。 Then you can
come back and tell me all about itonly you
must come in quietly； so not to wake the baby；''
she finished； giving her husband an affectionate
kiss； as she left the room。
After a disconsolate five minutes of solitude；
Bertram got his hat and coat and went out for
his walkbut he told himself he did not expect
to enjoy it。
Bertram Henshaw knew that the old rebellious
jealousy of the summer had him fast in its grip。
He was heartily ashamed of himself； but he could
not help it。 He wanted Billy； and he wanted her
then。 He wanted to talk to her。 He wanted to
tell her about a new portrait commission he had
just obtained； and he wanted to ask her what she
thought of the idea of a brand…new ‘‘Face of a
Girl'' for the Bohemian Ten Exhibition next
March。 He wantedbut then； what would be
the use？ She would listen； of course； but he
would know by the very looks of her face that
she would not be really thinking of what he was
saying； and he would be willing to wager his best
canvas that in the very first pause she would tell
about the baby's newest tooth or latest toy。 Not
but that he liked to hear about the little fellow；
of course； and not but that he was proud as Punch
of him； too； but that he would like sometimes to
hear Billy talk of something else。 The sweetest
melody in the world； if dinned into one's ears day
and night； became something to be fled from。
And Billy ought to talk of something else； too！
Bertram； Jr。； wonderful as he was； really was not
the only thing in the world； or even the only baby；
and other peopleoutsiders； their friends
had a right to expect that sometimes other
matters might be consideredtheir own； for
instance。 But Billy seemed to have forgotten this。
No matter whether the subject of conversation
had to do with the latest novel or a trip to Europe；
under Billy's guidance it invariably led straight
to Baby's Jack…and…Jill book； or to a perambulator
journey in the Public Garden。 If it had not
been so serious； it would have been really funny
the way all roads led straight to one goal。 He
himself； when alone with Billy； had started the
most unusual and foreign subjects； sometimes；
just to see if there were not somewhere a little
bypath that did not bring up in his own nursery。
He never； however； found one。
But it was not funny； it was serious。 Was this
glorious gift on parenthood to which he had looked
forward as the crowning joy of his existence； to
be nothing but a tragedy that would finally wreck
his domestic happiness？ It could not be。 It
must not be。 He must he patient； and wait。
Billy loved him。 He was sure she did。 By and
by this obsession of motherhood； which had her
so fast in its grasp； would relax。 She would
remember that her husband had rights as well as
her child。 Once again she would give him the
companionship； love； and sympathetic interest
so dear to him。 Meanwhile there was his work。
He must bury himself in that。 And fortunate；
indeed； he was； he told himself； that he had
something so absorbing。
It was at this point in his meditations that
Bertram rounded a corner and came face to face
with a man who stopped him short with a
jovial：
‘‘Isn't itby George； it is Bertie Henshaw！
Well； what do you think of that for luck？and
me only two days home from ‘Gay Paree'！''
‘‘Oh； Seaver！ How are you？ You _are_ a stranger！''
Bertram's voice and handshake were a bit
more cordial than they would have been had he
not at the moment been feeling so abused and
forlorn。 In the old days he had liked this Bob Seaver
well。 Seaver was an artist like himself； and was
good company always。 But Seaver and his crowd
were a little too Bohemian for William's taste；
and after Billy came； she； too； had objected to
what she called ‘‘that horrid Seaver man。'' In
his heart； Bertram knew that there was good
foundation for their objections； so he had avoided
Seaver for a time； and for some years； now； the
man had been abroad； somewhat to Bertram's
relief。 To…night； however； Seaver's genial smile
and hearty friendliness were like a sudden burst
of sunshine on a rainy dayand Bertram detested
rainy days。 He was feeling now； too； as
if he had just had a whole week of them。
‘‘Yes； I am something of a stranger here；''
nodded Seaver。 ‘‘But I tell you what； little old
Boston looks mighty good to me； all the same。
Come on！ You're just the fellow we want。 I'm
on my way now to the old stamping ground。
Comeright about face； old chap； and come with
me！''
Bertram shook his head。
‘‘Sorrybut I guess I can't； to…night；'' he
sighed。 Both gesture and words were unhesitating；
but the voice carried the discontent of a
small boy； who； while the sun is still shining； has
been told to come into the house。
‘‘Oh； rats！ Yes； you can； too。 Come on！
Lots of the old crowd will be thereGriggs；
Beebe； Jack Jenkins； and Tully。 We need you
to complete the show。''
‘‘Jack Jenkins？ Is he here？'' A new eagerness
had come into Bertram's voice。
‘‘Sure！ He came on from New York last night。
Great boy； Jenkins！ Just back from Paris fairly
covered with medals； you know。''
‘‘Yes； so I hear。 I haven't seen him f