Her fingers busied themselves with some music on the piano.
"We aren't going, Aunt Hannah," she said.
"Bertram can't." "_Can't!_" "Well, he didn't want to--so of course I said not to.

He's been painting this morning on a new portrait, and she said he might stay to luncheon and keep right on for a while this afternoon, if he liked.

And--he did like, so he stayed." "Why, how--how--" Aunt Hannah stopped helplessly.
"Oh, no, not at all," interposed Billy, lightly.

"He told me all about it the other night.

It's going to be a very wonderful portrait; and, of course, I wouldn't want to interfere with--his work!" And again a brilliant scale rippled from Billy's fingers after a crashing chord in the bass.
Slowly Aunt Hannah turned and went up-stairs.