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and half sprang from his chair。
Spunkie； disturbed from her doze by the fire；
uttered a purring ‘‘me…o…ow；'' and looked up inquiringly。
For a long minute William gazed dumbly into
the cat's yellow； sleepily contented eyes； then he
said with tragic distinctness：
‘‘Spunkie； it's true： Aunt Hannah isn't Billy's
husband's brother； butI am！ Do you hear？
I _am！_''
‘‘Pur…r…me…ow！'' commented Spunkie； and
curled herself for another nap。
There was no peace for William after that。 In
vain he told himself that he was no ‘‘interfering''
brother； and that this was his home and
had been all his life； in vain did he declare
emphatically that he could not go； he would not go；
that Billy would not wish him to go： always before
his eyes was the vision of that little bride of
years long gone； always in his ears was the echo
of Aunt Hannah's ‘‘I shall never forget the utter
freedom and happiness of those months for us；
with the whole house to ourselves。'' Nor； turn
which way he would； could he find anything to
comfort him。 Simply because he was so fearfully
looking for it； he found itthe thing that had
for its theme the wretchedness that might be
expected from the presence of a third person in the
new home。
Poor William！ Everywhere he met itthe
hint； the word； the story； the song； even； and
always it added its mite to the woeful whole。
Even the hoariest of mother…in…law jokes had its
sting for him； and； to make his cup quite full； he
chanced to remember one day what Marie had
said when he had suggested that she and Cyril
come to the Strata to live： ‘‘No； I think young
folks should begin by themselves。''
Unhappy； indeed； were these days for William。
Like a lost spirit he wandered from room
to room； touching this； fingering that。 For long
minutes he would stand before some picture； or
some treasured bit of old mahogany； as if to
stamp indelibly upon his mind a thing that was
soon to be no more。 At other times； like a man
without a home； he would go out into the Common
or the Public Garden and sit for hours on
some benchthinking。
All this could have but one ending； of course。
Before the middle of August William summoned
Pete to his rooms。
‘‘Oh； Pete； I'm going to move next week；''
he began nonchalantly。 His voice sounded as if
moving were a pleasurable circumstance that
occurred in his life regularly once a month。 ‘‘I'd
like you to begin to pack up these things； please；
to…morrow。''
The old servant's mouth fell open。
‘‘You're goin' toto what； sir？'' he stammered。
‘‘Move_move_； I said。'' William spoke with
unusual harshness。
Pete wet his lips。
‘‘You mean you've sold the old place； sir？
that wewe ain't goin' to live here no longer？''
‘‘Sold？ Of course not！ _I'm_ going to move
away； not you。''
If Pete could have known what caused the
sharpness in his master's voice； he would not
have been so grievedor； rather； he would have
been grieved for a different reason。 As it was he
could only falter miserably：
‘‘_You_ are goin' to move away from here！''
‘‘Yes； yes； man！ Why； Pete； what ails you？
One would think a body never moved before。''
‘‘They didn'tnot you； sir。''
William turned abruptly； so that his face could
not be seen。 With stern deliberation he picked
up an elaborately decorated teapot； but the
valuable bit of Lowestoft shook so in his hand
that he set it down at once。 It clicked sharply
against its neighbor； betraying his nervous hand。
Pete stirred。
‘‘But； Mr。 William；'' he stammered thickly；
‘‘how are youwhat'll you do without There
doesn't nobody but me know so well about your
tea； and the two lumps in your coffee； and
there's your flannels that you never put on till I
get 'em out； and the woolen socks that you'd
wear all summer if I didn't hide 'em。 And
and who's goin' to take care of these？'' he
finished； with a glance that encompassed the
overflowing cabinets and shelves of curios all about
him。
His master smiled sadly。 An affection that had
its inception in his boyhood days shone in his
eyes。 The hand in which the Lowestoft had
shaken rested now heavily on an old man's bent
shouldera shoulder that straightened itself in
unconscious loyalty under the touch。
‘‘Pete； you have spoiled me； and no mistake。
I don't expect to find another like you。 But
maybe if I wear the woolen socks too late you'll
come and hunt up the others for me。 Eh？''
And； with a smile that was meant to be quizzical；
William turned and began to shift the teapots
about again。
‘‘But； Mr。 William； whythat is； what will
Mr。 Bertram and Miss Billy dowithout you？''
ventured the old man。
There was a sudden tinkling crash。 On the
floor lay the fragments of a silver…luster teapot。
The servant exclaimed aloud in dismay； but
his master did not even glance toward his once
treasured possession on the floor。
‘‘Nonsense； Pete！'' he was saying in a
particularly cheery voice。 ‘‘Have you lived all these
years and not found out that newly…married
folks don't _need_ any one else around？ Come；
do you suppose we could begin to pack these
teapots to…night？'' he added； a little feverishly。
‘‘Aren't there some boxes down cellar？''
‘‘I'll see； sir；'' said Pete； respectfully； but the
expression on his face as he turned away showed
that he was not thinking of teapotsnor of
boxes in which to pack them。
CHAPTER III
BILLY SPEAKS HER MIND
Mr。 and Mrs。 Bertram Henshaw were expected
home the first of September。 By the thirty…first
of August the old Beacon Street homestead facing
the Public Garden was in spick…and…span order；
with Dong Ling in the basement hovering over a
well…stocked larder； and Pete searching the rest
of the house for a chair awry； or a bit of dust
undiscovered。
Twice before had the Strataas Bertram
long ago dubbed the home of his boyhood
been prepared for the coming of Billy； William's
namesake： once； when it had been decorated
with guns and fishing…rods to welcome the ‘‘boy''
who turned out to be a girl； and again when
with pink roses and sewing…baskets the three
brothers got joyously ready for a feminine Billy
who did not even come at all。
The house had been very different then。 It
had been； indeed； a ‘‘strata；'' with its distinctive
layers of fads and pursuits as represented by
Bertram and his painting on one floor； William
and his curios on another； and Cyril with his
music on a third。 Cyril was gone now。 Only
Pete and his humble belongings occupied the top
floor。 The floor below； too； was silent now； and
almost empty save for a rug or two； and a few
pieces of heavy furniture that William had not
cared to take with him to his new quarters on
top of Beacon Hill。 Below this； however； came
Billy's old rooms； and on these Pete had lavished
all his ski