As to Bertram--Bertram was pleased and
happy and gratified, of course, as was natural;
but he was not one whit more so than was Bertram's
wife. Billy fairly radiated happiness and
proud joy. She told Bertram, indeed, that if he
did anything to make her any prouder, it would
take an Annex the size of the Boston Opera House
to hold her extra happiness.

``Sh-h, Billy! Some one will hear you,''
protested Bertram, tragically; but, in spite of his
horrified voice, he did not look displeased.

For the first time Billy met Marguerite
Winthrop that evening. At the outset there was just
a bit of shyness and constraint in the young wife's
manner. Billy could not forget her old insane
jealousy of this beautiful girl with the envied
name of Marguerite. But it was for only a moment,
and soon she was her natural, charming self.

Miss Winthrop was fascinated, and she made
no pretense of hiding it. She even turned to
Bertram at last, and cried:

``Surely, now, Mr. Henshaw, you need never
go far for a model! Why don't you paint your
wife?''