should spoil your young married life.'' (William's
voice now sounded as if he were reciting a well-
learned lesson.)'' If I went away and stayed two
months, you'd never forget the utter freedom and
joy of those two whole months with the house all
to yourselves.''

``Uncle William,'' gasped Billy, ``what _are_
you talking about?''

``About--about my not going back, of course.''

``But you are coming back,'' cut in Bertram,
almost angrily. ``Oh, come, Will, this is utter
nonsense, and you know it! Come, let's go home
to dinner.''

A stern look came to the corners of William's
mouth--a look that Bertram understood well.

``All right, I'll go to dinner, of course; but
I sha'n't stay,'' said William, firmly. ``I've
thought it all out. I know I'm right. Come,
we'll go to dinner now, and say no more about
it,'' he finished with a cheery smile, as he rose to
his feet. Then, to the bride, he added: ``Did
you have a nice trip, little girl?''

Billy, too, had risen, now, but she did not
seem to have heard his question. In the fast