rustle of black silk and jet bugles.

No, Mr. William Henshaw was not in his
rooms. In fact, he was very seldom there. His
business, she believed, called him to State Street
through the day. Outside of that, she had been
told, he spent much time sitting on a bench in
the Common. Doubtless, if they cared to search,
they could find him there now.

``A bench in the Common, indeed!'' stormed
Billy, as she and Bertram hurried down the wide
stone steps. ``Uncle William--on a bench!''

``But surely now, dear,'' ventured her
husband, ``you'll come home and get your
dinner!''

Billy turned indignantly.

``And leave Uncle William on a bench in the
Common? Indeed, no! Why, Bertram, you
wouldn't, either,'' she cried, as she turned
resolutely toward one of the entrances to the Common.

And Bertram, with the ``eyes all shining''
still before him, could only murmur: ``No, of
course not, dear!'' and follow obediently where
she led.