Motionless and almost breathless, Billy waited until the last low “lul-la-by” vibrated into silence; then with shining eyes and outstretched hands she entered the living-room.
“Oh, that was—beautiful,” she breathed.
Arkwright was on his feet instantly. His eyes, too, were alight.
“I could not resist singing it just once—here,” he said a little unsteadily, as their hands met.
“But to hear my little song sung like that! I couldn't believe it was mine,” choked Billy, still plainly very much moved. “You sang it as I've never heard it sung before.”
Arkwright shook his head slowly.
“The inspiration of the room—that is all,”, he said. “It is a beautiful song. All of your songs are beautiful.”
Billy blushed rosily.
“Thank you. You know—more of them, then?”
“I think I know them all—unless you have some new ones out. Have you some new ones, lately?”