"Not in mine, thank you;" he retorted whimsically. "I prefer my spirits of a more sane and cheerful sort."The girl laughed, but almost instantly she fell silent.
"I've been wondering," she began musingly, after a time, "why some one of those three men does not--marry.""You wouldn't wonder--if you knew them better," declared Calderwell.
"Now think. Let's begin at the top of the Strata--by the way, Bertram's name for that establishment is mighty clever! First, Cyril: according to Bertram Cyril hates 'all kinds of women and other confusion'; and I fancy Bertram hits it about right. So that settles Cyril. Then there's William--you know William. Any girl would say William was a dear; but William isn't a MARRYING man. Dad says,"--Calderwell's voice softened a little--"dad says that William and his young wife were the most devoted couple that he ever saw;and that when she died she seemed to take with her the whole of William's heart--that is, what hadn't gone with the baby a few years before. There was a boy, you know, that died.""Yes, I know," nodded Billy, quick tears in her eyes. "Aunt Hannah told me.""Well, that counts out William, then," said Calderwell, with an air of finality.
"But how about Bertram? You haven't settled Bertram," laughed Billy, archly.
"Bertram!" Calderwell's eyes widened. "Billy, can you imagine Bertram's making love in real earnest to a girl?""Why, I--don't--know; maybe!" Billy tipped her head from side to side as if she were viewing a picture set up for her inspection.
"Well, I can't. In the first place, no girl would think he was serious; or if by any chance she did, she'd soon discover that it was the turn of her head or the tilt of her chin that he admired--TO PAINT. Now isn't that so?"
Billy laughed, but she did not answer.
"It is, and you know it," declared Calderwell. "And that settles him. Now you can see, perhaps, why none of these men--will marry."It was a long minute before Billy spoke.
"Not a bit of it. I don't see it at all," she declared with roguish merriment. "Moreover, I think that some day, some one of them--will marry, Sir Doubtful!"Calderwell threw a quick glance into her eyes. Evidently something he saw there sent a swift shadow to his own. He waited a moment, then asked abruptly:
"Billy, WON'T you marry me?"
Billy frowned, though her eyes still laughed.
"Hugh, I told you not to ask me that again," she demurred.
"And I told you not to ask impossibilities of me," he retorted imperturbably. "Billy, won't you, now--seriously? ""Seriously, no, Hugh. Please don't let us go all over that again when we've done it so many times.""No, let's don't," agreed the man, cheerfully. "And we don't have to, either, if you'll only say 'yes,' now right away, without any more fuss."Billy sighed impatiently.
"Hugh, won't you understand that I'm serious?" she cried; then she turned suddenly, with a peculiar flash in her eyes.
"Hugh, I don't believe Bertram himself could make love any more nonsensically than you can!"Calderwell laughed, but he frowned, too; and again he threw into Billy's face that keenly questioning glance. He said something--a light something--that brought the laugh to Billy's lips in spite of herself; but he was still frowning when he left the house some minutes later, and the shadow was not gone from his eyes.
