``There's nothing much--'' he began; but
he stopped at once, with an odd laugh. ``Well,
I sha'n't say _that_,'' he finished, flinging open the
door of his studio, and pressing a button that
flooded the room with light. The next moment,
as they stood before those plaques and panels
and canvases--on each of which was a pictured
``Billy''--they understood the change in his
sentence, and they laughed appreciatively.

`` `Much,' indeed!'' exclaimed William.

``Oh, how lovely!'' breathed Marie.

``My grief and conscience, Bertram! All these
--and of Billy? I knew you had a good many,
but--'' Aunt Hannah paused impotently, her
eyes going from Bertram's face to the pictures
again.

``But how--when did you do them?'' queried
Marie.

``Some of them from memory. More of them
from life. A lot of them were just sketches that
I did when she was here in the house four or five
years ago,'' answered Bertram; ``like this,
for instance.'' And he pulled into a better light
a picture of a laughing, dark-eyed girl holding