``Pete, where is he?'' As she asked the question
she dropped the mirror knobs into her open bag,
and reached for her coat and gloves--she had
not removed her hat.

Pete gave the address.

``It's just down the street a bit and up the
hill,'' he added excitedly, divining her purpose.
``It's a sort of a boarding-house, I reckon.''

``A _boarding-house_--for Uncle William!''
scorned Billy, her eyes ablaze. ``Come, Bertram,
we'll see about that.''

Bertram reached out a detaining hand.

``But, dearest, you're so tired,'' he demurred.
``Hadn't we better wait till after dinner, or till
to-morrow?''

``After dinner! To-morrow!'' Billy's eyes
blazed anew. ``Why, Bertram Henshaw, do
you think I'd leave that dear man even one
minute longer, if I could help it, with a notion in
his blessed old head that we didn't _want_ him?''

``But you said a little while ago you had a
headache, dear,'' still objected Bertram. ``If
you'd just eat your dinner!''