``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 teapots--nor 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 Strata--as Bertram