For one more brief minute Billy stared, before
a sudden light of understanding illumined her
face. Then her laugh rang out gleefully.

``Oh, Aunt Hannah, Aunt Hannah,'' she
gurgled. ``If Bertram wouldn't call you the limit
--making a clock strike eleven so you'll know it's
half-past ten!''

Aunt Hannah colored a little, but she stood
her ground.

``Well, there's only half an hour, anyway, now,
that I don't know what time it is,'' she maintained,
``for one or the other of those clocks strikes the
hour every thirty minutes. Even during those
never-ending three ones that strike one after
the other in the middle of the night, I can tell
now, for the hall clock has a different sound for
the half-hours, you know, so I can tell whether
it's one or a half-past.''

``Of course,'' chuckled Billy.

``I'm sure I think it's a splendid idea,'' chimed
in Marie, valiantly; ``and I'm going to write it
to mother's Cousin Jane right away. She's an
invalid, and she's always lying awake nights
wondering what time it is. The doctor says