“Now this is William's stratum,” announced Bertram at the foot of the stairs. “You will perceive that there is no knocking here; William's doors are always open.”
“By all means! Come in—come in,” called William's cheery voice.
“Oh, my, what a lot of things!” exclaimed Billy. “My—my—what a lot of things! How Spunk will like this room!”
Bertram chuckled; then he made a great display of drawing a long breath.
“In the short time at our disposal,” he began loftily, “it will be impossible to point out each particular article and give its history from the beginning; but somewhere you will find four round white stones, which—”
“Er—yes, we know all about those white stones,” interrupted William, “and you'll please let me talk about my own things myself!” And he beamed benevolently on the wondering-eyed girl at Bertram's side.
“But there are so many!” breathed Billy.
“All the more chance then,” smiled William, “that somewhere among them you'll find something to interest you. Now these Chinese ceramics, and these bronzes—maybe you'd like those,” he suggested. And with a resigned sigh and an exaggerated air of submission, Bertram stepped back and gave way to his brother.
“And there are these miniatures, and these Japanese porcelains. Or perhaps you'd like stamps, or theatre programs better,” William finished anxiously.
Billy did not reply. She was turning round and round, her eyes wide and amazed. Suddenly she pounced on a beautifully decorated teapot, and held it up in admiring hands.