``Now wasn't that nice of him? We were
talking last night about some duets he had, and he
said he'd bring them over. I didn't know he'd
come so soon, though.''

Billy had almost reached the bottom of the
stairway, when a low, familiar strain of music drifted
out from the living-room. Billy caught her breath,
and held her foot suspended. The next moment
the familiar strain of music had become a lullaby
--one of Billy's own--and sung now by a melting
tenor voice that lingered caressingly and
understandingly on every tender cadence.

Motionless and almost breathless, Billy waited
until the last low ``lul-la-by'' vibrated into
silence; then with shining eyes and outstretched
hands she entered the living-room.

``Oh, that was--beautiful,'' she breathed.

Arkwright was on his feet instantly. His eyes,
too, were alight.

``I could not resist singing it just once--
here,'' he said a little unsteadily, as their hands
met.

``But to hear my little song sung like that!