Miss Billy Married | Page 8

sleeping-car.
``And you--you know now that I love you --just you?''
``Not even Arkwright?''
``Not even Arkwright,'' smiled Billy.
There was the briefest of hesitations; then, a little constrainedly,
Bertram asked:
``And you said you--you never had cared for Arkwright, didn't you?''
For the second time in her life Billy was thankful that Bertram's
question had turned upon her love for Arkwright, not Arkwright's love
for her. In Billy's opinion, a man's unrequited love for a girl was his
secret, not hers, and was certainly one that the girl had no right to tell.
Once before Bertram had asked her if she had ever cared for Arkwright,
and then she had answered emphatically, as she did now:
``Never, dear.''
``I thought you said so,'' murmured Bertram, relaxing a little.
``I did; besides, didn't I tell you?'' she went on airily, ``I think he'll
marry Alice Greggory. Alice wrote me all the time I was away, and--
oh, she didn't say anything definite, I'll admit,'' confessed Billy, with an
arch smile; ``but she spoke of his being there lots, and they used to
know each other years ago, you see. There was almost a romance there,
I think, before the Greggorys lost their money and moved away from
all their friends.''

``Well, he may have her. She's a nice girl-- a mighty nice girl,''
answered Bertram, with the unmistakably satisfied air of the man who
knows he himself possesses the nicest girl of them all.
Billy, reading unerringly the triumph in his voice, grew suddenly grave.
She regarded her husband with a thoughtful frown; then she drew a
profound sigh.
``Whew!'' laughed Bertram, whimsically. ``So soon as this?''
``Bertram!'' Billy's voice was tragic.
``Yes, my love.'' The bridegroom pulled his face into sobriety; then
Billy spoke, with solemn impressiveness.
``Bertram, I don't know a thing about-- cooking--except what I've been
learning in Rosa's cook-book this last week.''
Bertram laughed so loud that the man across the aisle glanced over the
top of his paper surreptitiously.
``Rosa's cook-book! Is that what you were doing all this week?''
``Yes; that is--I tried so hard to learn something,'' stammered Billy.
``But I'm afraid I didn't--much; there were so many things for me to
think of, you know, with only a week. I believe I could make peach
fritters, though. They were the last thing I studied.''
Bertram laughed again, uproariously; but, at Billy's unchangingly tragic
face, he grew suddenly very grave and tender.
``Billy, dear, I didn't marry you to--to get a cook,'' he said gently.
Billy shook her head.
``I know; but Aunt Hannah said that even if I never expected to cook,
myself, I ought to know how it was done, so to properly oversee it. She
said that--that no woman, who didn't know how to cook and keep house
properly, had any business to be a wife. And, Bertram, I did try,

honestly, all this week. I tried so hard to remember when you sponged
bread and when you kneaded it.''
``I don't ever need--yours,'' cut in Bertram, shamelessly; but he got only
a deservedly stern glance in return.
``And I repeated over and over again how many cupfuls of flour and
pinches of salt and spoonfuls of baking-powder went into things; but,
Bertram, I simply could not keep my mind on it. Everything,
everywhere was singing to me. And how do you suppose I could
remember how many pinches of flour and spoonfuls of salt and cupfuls
of baking-powder went into a loaf of cake when all the while the very
teakettle on the stove was singing: `It's all right--Bertram loves me--I'm
going to marry Bertram!'?''
``You darling!'' (In spite of the man across the aisle Bertram did almost
kiss her this time.) ``As if anybody cared how many cupfuls of
baking-powder went anywhere--with that in your heart!''
``Aunt Hannah says you will--when you're hungry. And Kate said--''
Bertram uttered a sharp word behind his teeth.
``Billy, for heaven's sake don't tell me what Kate said, if you want me
to stay sane, and not attempt to fight somebody--broken arm, and all.
Kate thinks she's kind, and I suppose she means well; but--well, she's
made trouble enough between us already. I've got you now, sweetheart.
You're mine--all mine--'' his voice shook, and dropped to a tender
whisper-- `` `till death us do part.' ''
``Yes; `till death us do part,' '' breathed Billy.
And then, for a time, they fell silent.
`` `I, Bertram, take thee, Billy,' '' sang the whirring wheels beneath
them, to one.
`` `I, Billy, take thee, Bertram,' '' sang the whirring wheels beneath

them, to the other. While straight ahead before them both, stretched fair
and beautiful in their eyes, the wondrous path of life which they were
to tread together.
CHAPTER II
FOR WILLIAM--A HOME
On the