It was not, after all, so very long before peace and order reigned; and, in due course, Bertram, Jr., in his carriage, lay fast asleep. Then, while Aunt Hannah went to Billy's room for a short rest, Billy and Alice went out on to the wide veranda which faced the wonderful expanse of sky and sea.
“Now tell me of yourself,” commanded Billy, almost at once. “It's been ages since I've heard or seen a thing of you.”
“There's nothing to tell.”
“Nonsense! But there must be,” insisted Billy. “You know it's months since I've seen anything of you, hardly.”
“I know. We feel quite neglected at the Annex,” said Alice.
“But I don't go anywhere,” defended Billy. “I can't. There isn't time.”
“Even to bring us the extra happiness?” smiled Alice.
A quick change came to Billy's face. Her eyes glowed deeply.
“No; though I've had so much that ought to have gone—such loads and loads of extra happiness, which I couldn't possibly use myself! Sometimes I'm so happy, Alice, that—that I'm just frightened. It doesn't seem as if anybody ought to be so happy.”
“Oh, Billy, dear,” demurred Alice, her eyes filling suddenly with tears.