Pete, as of yore, was hovering near with a dust-cloth.
Bertram's gay whistle sounded from the floor below.

William Henshaw was at home again.
This much accomplished, Billy went to see Aunt Hannah.
Aunt Hannah greeted her affectionately, though with tearfully troubled eyes.

She was wearing a gray shawl to-day topped with a black one--sure sign of unrest, either physical or mental, as all her friends knew.
"I'd begun to think you'd forgotten--me," she faltered, with a poor attempt at gayety.
"You've been home three whole days." "I know, dearie," smiled Billy; "and 'twas a shame.

But I have been so busy! My trunks came at last, and I've been helping Uncle William get settled, too." Aunt Hannah looked puzzled.
"Uncle William get settled?
You mean--he's changed his room ?" Billy laughed oddly, and threw a swift glance into Aunt Hannah's face.
"Well, yes, he did change," she murmured; "but he's moved back now into the old quarters.

Er--you haven't heard from Uncle William then, lately, I take it." "No." Aunt Hannah shook her head abstractedly.