face; but before her lover could question its
meaning, it was gone.

``And I know I was a torment to Cyril.'' Billy
had turned to the musician now.

``Well, I admit you were a little--upsetting,
at times,'' retorted that individual, with something
of his old imperturbable rudeness.

``Nonsense!'' cut in William, sharply. ``You
were never anything but a comfort in the house,
Billy, my dear--and you never will be.''

``Thank you,'' murmured Billy, demurely.
``I'll remember that--when Pete and I disagree
about the table decorations, and Dong Ling
doesn't like the way I want my soup seasoned.''

An anxious frown showed on Bertram's face.

``Billy,'' he said in a low voice, as the others
laughed at her sally, ``you needn't have Pete
nor Dong Ling here if you don't want them.''

``Don't want them!'' echoed Billy, indignantly.
``Of course I want them!''

``But--Pete _is_ old, and--''