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William。〃
CHAPTER II
〃THE STRATA〃
Bertram Henshaw called the Beacon Street home 〃The Strata。〃 This
annoyed Cyril； and even William； not a little； though they
reflected that； after all； it was 〃only Bertram。〃 For the whole of
Bertram's twenty…four years of life it had been like this〃It's
only Bertram；〃 had been at once the curse and the salvation of his
existence。
In this particular case； however； Bertram's vagary of fancy had
some excuse。 The Beacon Street house； the home of the three
brothers； was a 〃Strata。〃
〃You see； it's like this；〃 Bertram would explain airily to some new
acquaintance who expressed surprise at the name； 〃if I could slice
off the front of the house like a loaf of cake； you'd understand it
better。 But just suppose that old Bunker Hill should suddenly
spout fire and brimstone and bury us under tons of ashesonly
fancy the condition of mind of those future archaeologists when
they struck our house after their months of digging！
〃What would they find？ Listen。 First： stratum number one； the top
floor； that's Cyril's； you know。 They'd note the bare floors； the
sparse but heavy furniture； the piano； the violin； the flute； the
book…lined walls； and the absence of every sort of curtain；
cushion； or knickknack。 'Here lived a plain man；' they'd say； 'a
scholar； a musician； stern； unloved and unloving； a monk。'
〃And what next？ They'd strike William's stratum next； the third
floor。 Imagine it！ You know William as a State Street broker；
well…off； a widower； tall； angular； slow of speech； a little bald；
very much nearsighted； and the owner of the kindest heart in the
world。 But really to know William； you must know his rooms。
William collects things。 He has always collected thingsand he's
saved every one of them。 There's a tradition that at the age of
one year he crept into the house with four small round white
stones。 Anyhow； if he did； he's got them now。 Rest assured of
thatand he's forty this year。 Miniatures； carved ivories； bugs；
moths； porcelains； jades； stamps； postcards； spoons； baggage tags；
theatre programs； playing…cardsthere isn't anything that he
doesn't collect。 He's on teapots； now。 Imagine itWilliam and
teapots！ And they're all there in his roomsone glorious mass of
confusion。 Just fancy those archaeologists trying to make their
'monk' live there！
〃But when they reach me； my stratum； they'll have a worse time yet。
You see； _I_ like cushions and comfort； and I have them everywhere。
And I likewell； I like lots of things。 My rooms don't belong to
that monk； not a little bit。 And so you see；〃 Bertram would finish
merrily； 〃that's why I call it all 'The Strata。'〃
And 〃The Strata〃 it was to all the Henshaws' friends； and even to
William and Cyril themselves； in spite of their objection to the
term。
From babyhood the Henshaw boys had lived in the handsome； roomy
house； facing the Public Garden。 It had been their father's
boyhood home； as well； and he and his wife had died there； soon
after Kate； the only daughter； had married。 At the age of twenty…
two； William Henshaw； the eldest son； had brought his bride to the
house； and together they had striven to make a home for the two
younger orphan boys； Cyril； twelve； and Bertram； six。 But Mrs。
William； after a short five years of married life； had died； and
since then； the house had known almost nothing of a woman's touch
or care。
Little by little as the years passed； the house and its inmates had
fallen into what had given Bertram his excuse for the name。 Cyril；
thirty years old now； dignified； reserved； averse to cats； dogs；
women； and confusion； had early taken himself and his music to the
peace and exclusiveness of the fourth floor。 Below him； William
had long discouraged any meddling with his precious chaos of
possessions； and had finally come to spend nearly all his spare
time among them。 This left Bertram to undisputed ownership of the
second floor； and right royally did he hold sway there with his
paints and brushes and easels； his old armor； rich hangings； rugs；
and cushions； and everywhere his specialtyhis 〃Face of a Girl。〃
From canvas； plaque； and panel they looked outthose girlish
faces： winsome； wilful； pert； demure； merry； sad； beautiful； even
almost uglythey were all there； and they were growing famous；
too。 The world of art was beginning to take notice； and to adjust
its spectacles for a more critical glance。 This 〃Face of a Girl〃
by Henshaw bade fair to be worth while。
Below Bertram's cheery second floor were the dim old library and
drawing…rooms； silent； stately； and almost never used； and below
them were the dining…room and the kitchen。 Here ruled Dong Ling；
the Chinese cook； and Pete。
Pete wasindeed； it is hard telling what Pete was。 He said he was
the butler； and he looked the part when he answered the bell at the
great front door。 But at other times； when he swept a room； or
dusted Master William's curios； he lookedlike nothing so much as
what he was： a fussy； faithful old man； who expected to die in the
service he had entered fifty years before as a lad。
Thus in all the Beacon Street house； there had not for years been
the touch of a woman's hand。 Even Kate； the married sister； had
long since given up trying to instruct Dong Ling or to chide Pete；
though she still walked across the Garden from her Commonwealth
Avenue home and tripped up the stairs to call in turn upon her
brothers； Bertram； William； and Cyril。
CHAPTER III
THE STRATAWHEN THE LETTER COMES
It was on the six o'clock delivery that William Henshaw received
the letter from his namesake； Billy。 To say the least； the letter
was a great shock to him。 He had not quite forgotten Billy's
father； who had died so long ago； it is true； but he had forgotten
Billy； entirely。 Even as he looked at the disconcerting epistle
with its round； neatly formed letters； he had great difficulty in
ferreting out the particular niche in his memory which contained
the fact that Walter Neilson had had a child； and had named it for
him。
And this child； this 〃Billy；〃 this unknown progeny of an all but
forgotten boyhood friend； was asking a home； and with him！
Impossible！ And William Henshaw peered at the letter as if； at
this second reading； its message could not be so monstrous。
〃Well； old man； what's up？〃 It was Bertram's amazed voice from the
hall doorway； and indeed； William Henshaw； red…faced and plainly
trembling； seated on the lowest step of the stairway； and gazing；
wild…eyed； at the letter in his hand； was somewhat of an amazing
sight。 〃What IS up？〃
〃What's up！〃 groaned William； starting to his feet； and waving the
letter frantically in the air。 〃What's up！ Young man； do you want
us to take in a child to board？a CHILD？〃 he repeated in slow
horror。
〃Well； hardly；〃 laughed the other。 〃Er； perhaps Cyril might like
it； though； eh？〃
〃Come； come； Bertram； be sensible for once；〃 pleaded his brother；
nervously。 〃This is serious； really serious； I tell you！〃
〃What is serious？〃 demanded Cyril； coming down the stairway。
〃Can't it wait？ Pete has already sounded the gong twice for
dinner。〃
William