arrival, and preparations for the guest's comfort were well under way
before breakfast. The center of activity was in the little room at the
end of the hall on the second floor; though, as Bertram said, the whole
Strata felt the "upheaval."

By breakfast time Bertram with the avowed intention of giving "the
little chap half a show," had the room cleared for action; and after
that the whole house was called upon for contributions toward the room's
adornment. And most generously did most of the house respond. Even Dong
Ling slippered up-stairs and presented a weird Chinese banner which
he said he was "velly much glad" to give. As to Pete--Pete was in his
element. Pete loved boys. Had he not served them nearly all his life?
Incidentally it may be mentioned that he did not care for girls.

Only Cyril held himself aloof. But that he was not oblivious of the
proceedings below him was evidenced by the somber bass that floated down
from his piano strings. Cyril always played according to the mood that
was on him; and when Bertram heard this morning the rhythmic beats of
mournfulness, he chuckled and said to William:

"That's Chopin's Funeral March. Evidently Cy thinks this is the death
knell to all his hopes of future peace and happiness."

"Dear me! I wish Cyril would take some interest," grieved William.

"Oh, he takes interest all right," laughed Bertram, meaningly. "He takes
INTEREST!"

"I know, but--Bertram," broke off the elder man, anxiously, from his
perch on the stepladder, "would you put the rifle over this window, or