Ruth sat down to watch the quick direct strokes of his hammer as he drove the nails into his coop.
"It will be too lovely to have chickens and flowers both," she said. "Shall you keep chickens or will you have a store when you grow up, Billy?"
"I can do both, maybe. I want to keep store more than ever."
"I don't think I want to make buttonholes," returned Ruth, laughingly. "Oh, Billy, did you see this tree? It has names all cut on it. Here's Thomas Peaslee and Hester Brackenbury and under it is Henrietta Brackenbury. Ruth Henrietta Brackenbury; Billy, I'd like to see that there, too."
"I'll cut it for you," said Billy viewing his copy with a satisfied air.
"And won't you cut Billy Beatty?"
Billy shook his head. "No, sir, I don't want my name in any such place. Where I want it is on a sign over a store door. William Beatty and Company in gold letters. I'll cut that name now. Where do you want it?"
"Right there under Henrietta's."
Billy began his work in a businesslike way, Ruth watching him admiringly. When he had finished and had walked away with his tools, she glanced around to see that no one was looking, and then she touched her lips softly to each name.
"That's for you, Dr. Peaslee, because you are so good. That's for you, Aunt Hester, because I love you so. That's for you, little Henrietta, because if you hadn't died, maybe I wouldn't be here."