to be a big man with a brown beard! What shall
we do? We don't want a big man with a brown
beard--here!''

Billy laughed roguishly.

``I don't know. _You_ asked him! How he
will like that little blue room--Aunt Hannah!''
Billy's voice turned suddenly tragic. ``For pity's
sake take out those curling tongs and hairpins,
and the work-basket. I'd _never_ hear the last of
it if he saw those, I know. He's just that kind!''

A half stifled groan came over the wire.

``Billy, he can't stay here.''

Billy laughed again.

``No, no, dear; he won't, I know. He says
he's going to a hotel. But I had to bring him home
to dinner; there was no other way, under the
circumstances. He won't stay. Don't you worry.
But good-by. I must go. _Remember those curling
tongs!_'' And the receiver clicked sharply against
the hook.

In the automobile some minutes later, Billy
and Mr. M. J. Arkwright were speeding toward
Corey Hill. It was during a slight pause in the