Marie drew a deep breath. Her eyes were fixed on a point far ahead up the curveless street.
“I hope it will, indeed!” she breathed.
Not until they were almost home did Billy say suddenly:
“Oh, did Cyril write you? A young relative of Aunt Hannah's is coming to-morrow to stay a while at the house.”
“Er—yes, Cyril told me,” admitted Marie.
Billy smiled.
“Didn't like it, I suppose; eh?” she queried shrewdly.
“N-no, I'm afraid he didn't—very well. He said she'd be—one more to be around.”
“There, what did I tell you?” dimpled Billy. “You can see what you're coming to when you do get that shaded lamp and the mending basket!”
A moment later, coming in sight of the house, Billy saw a tall, smooth-shaven man standing on the porch. The man lifted his hat and waved it gayly, baring a slightly bald head to the sun.