"By the way, it has just occurred to me as I write that perhaps, after all, you won't have to go quite away. There are plenty of good schools for young ladies right in and near Boston, which I am sure you could attend, and still live at home. Suppose you come back then as soon as you can, and we'll talk it up. And that reminds me, I wonder how Spunk will get along with Spunkie.

Spunkie has been boarding out all August at a cat home, but he seems glad to get back to us. I am anxious to see the two little chaps together, just to find out how much alike they really do look."Very promptly came Billy's answer; but William's face, after he had read the letter, was almost as blank as it had been on that April day when Billy's first letter came--though this time for a far different reason.

"Why, boys, she--isn't--coming," he announced in dismay.

"Isn't coming!" ejaculated two astonished Voices.

"No."

"Not--at--ALL?"

"Why, of course, later," retorted William, with unwonted sharpness.

"But not now. This is what she says." And he read aloud:

"DEAR UNCLE WILLIAM:--You poor dear man! Did you think I'd really let you spend your time and your thought over hunting up a school for me, after all the rest you have done for me? Not a bit of it!

Why, Aunt Hannah and I have been buried under school catalogues all summer, and I have studied them all until I know just which has turkey dinners on Sundays, and which ice cream at least twice a week. And it's all settled, too, long ago. I'm going to a girls'

school up the Hudson a little way--a lovely place, I'm sure, from the pictures of it.

"Oh, and another thing; I shall go right from here. Two girls at Hampden Falls are going, and I shall go with them. Isn't that a fine chance for me? You see it would never do, anyway, for me to go alone--me, a 'Billy'--unless I sent a special courier ahead to announce that 'Billy' was a girl.

"Aunt Hannah has decided to stay here this winter in the old house.

She likes it ever so much, and I don't think I shall sell the place just yet, anyway. She will go back, of course, to Boston (after I've gone) to get some things at the house that she'll want, and also to do some shopping. But she'll let you know when she'll be there.

"I'll write more later, but just now I'm in a terrible rush. Ionly write this note to set your poor heart at rest about having to hunt up a school for me.

"With love to all, "BILLY."

As had happened once before after a letter from Billy had been read, there was a long pause.

"Well, by Jove!" breathed Bertram.

"It's very sensible, I'm sure," declared Cyril. "Still, I must confess, I would have liked to pick out her piano teacher for her."William said nothing--perhaps because he was reading Billy's letter again.

At eight o'clock that night Bertram tapped on Cyril's door.

"What's the trouble?" demanded Cyril in answer to the look on the other's face.

Bertram lifted his eyebrows oddly.

"I'm not sure whether you'll call it 'trouble' or not," he replied;"but I think it's safe to say that Billy is gone--for good.""For good! What do you mean?--that she's not coming back--ever?""Exactly that."

"Nonsense! What's put that notion into your head?""Billy's letter first; after that, Pete.""Pete!"

"Yes. He came to me a few minutes ago, looking as if he had seen a ghost. It seems he swept Billy's rooms this morning and put them in order against her coming; and tonight William told him that she wouldn't be here at present. Pete came straight to me. He said he didn't dare tell Mr. William, but he'd got to tell some one: there wasn't one single thing of Miss Billy's left in her rooms nor anywhere else in the house--not so much as a handkerchief or a hairpin.""Hm-m; that does look--suspicious," murmured Cyril. "What's up, do you think?""Don't know; but something, sure. Still, of course we may be wrong. We won't say anything to Will about it, anyhow. Poor old chap, 'twould worry him, specially if he thought Billy's feelings had been hurt.""Hurt?--nonsense! Why, we did everything for her--everything!""Yes, I know--and she tried to do EVERYTHING for us, too," retorted Bertram, quizzically, as he turned away.