miss billy-第2节

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moths；　porcelains；　jades；　stamps；　postcards；　spoons；　baggage　tags；
theatre　programs；　playing…cardsthere　isn't　anything　that　he
doesn't　collect。　　He's　on　teapots；　now。　　Imagine　itWilliam　and
teapots！　　And　they're　all　there　in　his　roomsone　glorious　mass　of
confusion。　　Just　fancy　those　archaeologists　trying　to　make　their
'monk'　live　there！

〃But　when　they　reach　me；　my　stratum；　they'll　have　a　worse　time　yet。
You　see；　_I_　like　cushions　and　comfort；　and　I　have　them　everywhere。
And　I　likewell；　I　like　lots　of　things。　　My　rooms　don't　belong　to
that　monk；　not　a　little　bit。　　And　so　you　see；〃　Bertram　would　finish
merrily；　〃that's　why　I　call　it　all　'The　Strata。'〃

And　〃The　Strata〃　it　was　to　all　the　Henshaws'　friends；　and　even　to
William　and　Cyril　themselves；　in　spite　of　their　objection　to　the
term。

From　babyhood　the　Henshaw　boys　had　lived　in　the　handsome；　roomy
house；　facing　the　Public　Garden。　　It　had　been　their　father's
boyhood　home；　as　well；　and　he　and　his　wife　had　died　there；　soon
after　Kate；　the　only　daughter；　had　married。　　At　the　age　of　twenty…
two；　William　Henshaw；　the　eldest　son；　had　brought　his　bride　to　the
house；　and　together　they　had　striven　to　make　a　home　for　the　two
younger　orphan　boys；　Cyril；　twelve；　and　Bertram；　six。　　But　Mrs。
William；　after　a　short　five　years　of　married　life；　had　died；　and
since　then；　the　house　had　known　almost　nothing　of　a　woman's　touch
or　care。

Little　by　little　as　the　years　passed；　the　house　and　its　inmates　had
fallen　into　what　had　given　Bertram　his　excuse　for　the　name。　　Cyril；
thirty　years　old　now；　dignified；　reserved；　averse　to　cats；　dogs；
women；　and　confusion；　had　early　taken　himself　and　his　music　to　the
peace　and　exclusiveness　of　the　fourth　floor。　　Below　him；　William
had　long　discouraged　any　meddling　with　his　precious　chaos　of
possessions；　and　had　finally　come　to　spend　nearly　all　his　spare
time　among　them。　　This　left　Bertram　to　undisputed　ownership　of　the
second　floor；　and　right　royally　did　he　hold　sway　there　with　his
paints　and　brushes　and　easels；　his　old　armor；　rich　hangings；　rugs；
and　cushions；　and　everywhere　his　specialtyhis　〃Face　of　a　Girl。〃
From　canvas；　plaque；　and　panel　they　looked　outthose　girlish
faces：　winsome；　wilful；　pert；　demure；　merry；　sad；　beautiful；　even
almost　uglythey　were　all　there；　and　they　were　growing　famous；
too。　　The　world　of　art　was　beginning　to　take　notice；　and　to　adjust
its　spectacles　for　a　more　critical　glance。　　This　〃Face　of　a　Girl〃
by　Henshaw　bade　fair　to　be　worth　while。

Below　Bertram's　cheery　second　floor　were　the　dim　old　library　and
drawing…rooms；　silent；　stately；　and　almost　never　used；　and　below
them　were　the　dining…room　and　the　kitchen。　　Here　ruled　Dong　Ling；
the　Chinese　cook；　and　Pete。

Pete　wasindeed；　it　is　hard　telling　what　Pete　was。　　He　said　he　was
the　butler；　and　he　looked　the　part　when　he　answered　the　bell　at　the
great　front　door。　　But　at　other　times；　when　he　swept　a　room；　or
dusted　Master　William's　curios；　he　lookedlike　nothing　so　much　as
what　he　was：　a　fussy；　faithful　old　man；　who　expected　to　die　in　the
service　he　had　entered　fifty　years　before　as　a　lad。

Thus　in　all　the　Beacon　Street　house；　there　had　not　for　years　been
the　touch　of　a　woman's　hand。　　Even　Kate；　the　married　sister；　had
long　since　given　up　trying　to　instruct　Dong　Ling　or　to　chide　Pete；
though　she　still　walked　across　the　Garden　from　her　Commonwealth
Avenue　home　and　tripped　up　the　stairs　to　call　in　turn　upon　her
brothers；　Bertram；　William；　and　Cyril。



CHAPTER　III

THE　STRATAWHEN　THE　LETTER　COMES


It　was　on　the　six　o'clock　delivery　that　William　Henshaw　received
the　letter　from　his　namesake；　Billy。　　To　say　the　least；　the　letter
was　a　great　shock　to　him。　　He　had　not　quite　forgotten　Billy's
father；　who　had　died　so　long　ago；　it　is　true；　but　he　had　forgotten
Billy；　entirely。　　Even　as　he　looked　at　the　disconcerting　epistle
with　its　round；　neatly　formed　letters；　he　had　great　difficulty　in
ferreting　out　the　particular　niche　in　his　memory　which　contained
the　fact　that　Walter　Neilson　had　had　a　child；　and　had　named　it　for
him。

And　this　child；　this　〃Billy；〃　this　unknown　progeny　of　an　all　but
forgotten　boyhood　friend；　was　asking　a　home；　and　with　him！
Impossible！　　And　William　Henshaw　peered　at　the　letter　as　if；　at
this　second　reading；　its　message　could　not　be　so　monstrous。

〃Well；　old　man；　what's　up？〃　　It　was　Bertram's　amazed　voice　from　the
hall　doorway；　and　indeed；　William　Henshaw；　red…faced　and　plainly
trembling；　seated　on　the　lowest　step　of　the　stairway；　and　gazing；
wild…eyed；　at　the　letter　in　his　hand；　was　somewhat　of　an　amazing
sight。　　〃What　IS　up？〃

〃What's　up！〃　groaned　William；　starting　to　his　feet；　and　waving　the
letter　frantically　in　the　air。　　〃What's　up！　　Young　man；　do　you　want
us　to　take　in　a　child　to　board？a　CHILD？〃　he　repeated　in　slow
horror。

〃Well；　hardly；〃　laughed　the　other。　　〃Er；　perhaps　Cyril　might　like
it；　though；　eh？〃

〃Come；　come；　Bertram；　be　sensible　for　once；〃　pleaded　his　brother；
nervously。　　〃This　is　serious；　really　serious；　I　tell　you！〃

〃What　is　serious？〃　demanded　Cyril；　coming　down　the　stairway。
〃Can't　it　wait？　　Pete　has　already　sounded　the　gong　twice　for
dinner。〃

William　made　a　despairing　gesture。

〃Well；　come；〃　he　groaned。　　〃I'll　tell　you　at　the　table。　。　。　。　　It
seems　I've　got　a　namesake；〃　he　resumed　in　a　shaking　voice；　a　few
moments　later；　〃Walter　Neilson's　child。〃

〃And　who's　Walter　Neilson？〃　asked　Bertram。

〃A　boyhood　friend。　　You　wouldn't　remember　him。　　This　letter　is　from
his　child。〃

〃Well；　let's　hear　it。　　Go　ahead。　　I　fancy　we　can　stand　theLETTER；
eh；　Cyril？〃

Cyril　frowned。　　Cyril　did　not　know；　perhaps；　how　often　he　frowned
at　Bertram。

The　eldest　brother　wet　his　lips。　　His　hand　shook　as　he　picked　up
the　letter。

〃Itit's　so　absurd；〃　he　muttered。　　Then　he　cleared　his　throat　and
read　the　letter　aloud。


〃DEAR　UNCLE　WILLIAM：　　Do　you　mind　my　calling　you　that？　　You　see　I
want　SOME　one；　and　there　isn't　any　one　now。　　You　are　the　nearest
I've　got。　　Maybe　you've　forgotten；　but　I'm　named　for　you。　　Walter
Neilson　was　my　father；　you　know。　　My　Aunt　Ella　has　just　died。

〃Would　you　mind　very　much　if　I　came　to　live　with　you？　　That　is；
between　timesI'm　going　to　college；　of　course；　and　after　that　I'm
going　to　bewell；　I　haven't　decided　that　part　yet。　　I　think　I'll
consult　you。　　You　may　have　some　preference；　you　know。　　You　can　be
thinking　it　up　until　I　come。

〃There！　　Maybe　I　ought　not　to　have　said　that；　for　perhaps　you　won't
want　me　to　come。　　I　AM　noisy；　I'll　own；　but　not　so　I　think　you'll
mind　it　much　unless　some　of　you　have　'nerves'　or　a　'heart。'　　You
see；　Miss　Letty　and　Miss　Annthey're　Mr。　Harding's　sisters；　and
Mr。　Harding　is　our　lawyer；　and　he　will　write　to　you。　　Well；　where
was　I？　　Oh；　I　knowon　Miss　Letty's　nerves。　　And；　say；　do　you　know；
that　is　where　I　do　geton　Miss　Letty's　nerves。　　I　do；　truly。　　You
see；　Mr。　Harding　very　kindly　suggested　that　I　live　with　them；　but；
mercy！　　Miss　Letty's　nerves　won't　let　you　walk　except　on　tiptoe；
and　Miss　Ann's　heart　won't　let　you　speak　except　in　whispers。　　All
the　chairs　and　tables　have　worn　little　sockets　in　the　carpets；　and
it's　a　crime　to　move　them。　　There　isn't　a　window…shade　in　the　house
that　isn't　pulled　down　EXACTLY　to　the　middle　sash；　except　where　the
sun　shines；　and　those　are　pulled　way　down。　　Imagine　me　and　Spunk
living　there！　　Oh；　by　the　way；　you　don't　mind　my　bringing　Spunk；　do
you？　　I　hope　you　don't；　for　I　couldn't　live　without　Spunk；　and　he
couldn't　live　with　out　me。

〃Please　let　me　hear　from　you　very　soon。　　I　don't　mind　if　you
telegraph；　and　just　'come'　would　be　all　you'd　have　to　say。　　Then
I'd　get　ready　right　away　and　let　you　know　what　train　to　meet　me　on。
And；　oh；　sayif　you'll　wear　a　pink　in　your　buttonhole　I　will；　too。
Then　we'll　know　each　other。　　My　address　is　just　'Hampden　Falls。'

〃Your　awfully　homesick　namesake；

〃BILLY　HENSHAW　NEILSON〃


For　one　long　minute　there　was　a　blank　silence　about　the　Henshaw
dinner…table；　then　the　eldest　brother；　looking　anxiously　from　one
man　to　the　other；　stammered：

〃W…well？〃

〃Great　Scott！〃　breathed　Bertram。

Cyril　said　nothing；　but　his　lips　were　white　with　their　tense
pressure　against　each　other。

There　was　another　pause；　and　again　William　broke　it　anxiously。

〃Boys；　this　isn't　helping　me　out　any！　　What's　to　be　done？〃

〃'Done'！〃　flamed　Cyril。　　〃Surely；　you　aren't　thinking　for　a　moment
of　LETTING　that　child　come　here；　William！〃

Bertram　chuckled。

〃He　WOULD　liven　things　up；　Cyril；　wouldn't　he？　　Such　nice　smooth
floors　you've　got　up…stairs　to　trundle　little　tin　carts　across！〃

〃Tin　nonsense！〃　retorted　Cyril。　　〃Don't　be　silly；　Bertram。　　That
letter　wasn't　written　by　a　baby。　　He'd　be　much　more　likely　to　make
himself　at　home　with　your　paint　box；　or　with　some　of　William's
junk。〃

〃Oh；　I　say；〃　expostulated　William；　〃we'll　HAVE　to　keep　him　out　of
those　things；　you　know。〃

Cyril　pushed　back　his　chair　from　the　table。

〃'We'll　have　to　keep　him　out'！　　William；　you　can't　be　in　earnest！
You　aren't　going　to　let　that　boy　come　here；〃　he　cried。

〃But　what　can　I　do？〃　faltered　the　man。

〃Do？　　Say　'no；'　of　course。　　As　if　we　wanted　a　boy　to　bring　up！〃

〃But　I　must　do　something。　　II'm　all　he's　got。　　He　says　so。〃

〃Goo