"Why, I am Billy, myself!" To William Henshaw the world swam dizzily, and went suddenly mad.
The floor rose, and the roof fell, while cars and people performed impossible acrobatic feats above, below, and around him.

Then, from afar off, he heard his own voice stammer: "You--are--B-Billy!" "Yes; and I'll wait here, if you'll just tell him, please.

He's expecting me, you know, so it's all right, only perhaps he made a mistake in the time.

Maybe you know him, anyhow." With one mighty effort William Henshaw pulled himself sharply together.
He even laughed, and tossed his head in a valiant imitation of Billy herself; but his voice shook.
"Know him!--I should say I did!" he cried.

"Why, I am William Henshaw, myself." "You!--Uncle William! Why, where's your pink ?" The man's face was already so red it could not get any redder--but it tried to do so.
"Why, er--I--it--er--if you'll just come into the waiting-room a minute, my dear," he stuttered miserably, "I--I'll explain--about that.