miss billie married-第57章

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down　into　the　Valley　of　the　Shadow　of　Death；

and　have　come　back；　either　mourning　or　rejoicing；

they　find　a　different　world　from　the　one　they

had　left。　　Things　that　were　great　before　seem

small；　and　some　things　that　were　small　seem

great。　　At　least　Bertram　and　Billy　found　their

world　thus　changed　when　together　they　came

back　bringing　their　son　with　them。



In　the　long　weeks　of　convalescence；　when　the

healthy　rosiness　stole　bit　by　bit　into　the　baby's

waxen　face；　and　the　light　of　recognition　and

understanding　crept　day　by　day　into　the　baby's

eyes；　there　was　many　a　quiet　hour　for　heart…to…

heart　talks　between　the　two　who　so　anxiously

and　joyously　hailed　every　rosy　tint　and　fleeting

sparkle。　　And　there　was　so　much　to　tell；　so　much

to　hear；　so　much　to　talk　about！　　And　always；

running　through　everything；　was　that　golden

thread　of　joy；　beside　which　all　else　paledthat

they　had　Baby　and　each　other。　　As　if　anything

else　mattered！



To　be　sure；　there　was　Bertram's　arm。　　Very

early　in　their　talks　Billy　found　out　about　that。　

But　Billy；　with　Baby　getting　well；　was　not　to　be

daunted；　even　by　this。



‘‘Nonsense；　darlingnot　paint　again；

indeed！　　Why；　Bertram；　of　course　you　will；''　she

cried　confidently。



‘‘But；　Billy；　the　doctor　said；''　began　Bertram；

but　Billy　would　not　even　listen。



‘‘Very　well；　what　if　he　did；　dear？''　she

interrupted。　　‘‘What　if　he　did　say　you　couldn't　use

your　right　arm　much　again？''　　Billy's　voice　broke

a　little；　then　quickly　steadied　into　something　very

much　like　triumph。　　‘‘You've　got　your　left　one！''



Bertram　shook　his　head。



‘‘I　can't　paint　with　that。''



‘‘Yes；　you　can；''　insisted　Billy；　firmly。　　‘‘Why；

Bertram；　what　do　you　suppose　you　were　given

two　arms　for　if　not　to　fight　with　both　of　them？　

And　I'm　going　to　be　ever　so　much　prouder　of

what　you　paint　now；　because　I'll　know　how　splendidly

you　worked　to　do　it。　　Besides；　there's　Baby。　

As　if　you　weren't　ever　going　to　paint　for　Baby！　

Why；　Bertram；　I'm　going　to　have　you　paint　Baby；

one　of　these　days。　　Think　how　pleased　he'll　be

to　see　it　when　he　grows　up！　　He's　nicer；　anyhow；

than　any　old　‘Face　of　a　Girl'　you　ever　did。　

Paint？　　Why；　Bertram；　darling；　of　course　you're

going　to　paint；　and　better　than　you　ever　did　before！''



Bertram　shook　his　head　again；　but　this　time

he　smiled；　and　patted　Billy's　cheek　with　the　tip

of　his　forefinger。



‘‘As　if　I　could！''　he　disclaimed。　　But　that

afternoon　he　went　into　his　long…deserted　studio　and

hunted　up　his　last　unfinished　picture。　　For　some

time　he　stood　motionless　before　it；　then；　with　a

quick　gesture　of　determination；　he　got　out　his

palette；　paints；　and　brushes。　　This　time　not　until

he　had　painted　ten；　a　dozen；　a　score　of　strokes；

did　he　drop　his　brush　with　a　sigh　and　carefully

erase　the　fresh　paint　on　the　canvas。　　The　next

day　he　worked　longer；　and　this　time　he　allowed

a　little；　a　very　little；　of　what　he　had　done　to

remain。



The　third　day　Billy　herself　found　him　at　his

easel。



‘‘I　wonderdo　you　suppose　I　could？''　he

asked　fearfully。



‘‘Why；　dearest；　of　course　you　can！　　Haven't

you　noticed？　　Can't　you　see　how　much　more　you

can　do　with　your　left　hand　now？　　You've　_had_　to

use　it；　you　see。　　_I've_　seen　you　do　a　lot　of　things

with　it；　lately；　that　you　never　used　to　do　at　all。　

And；　of　course；　the　more　you　do　with　it；　the　more

you　can！''



‘‘I　know；　but　that　doesn't　mean　that　I　can

paint　with　it；''　sighed　Bertram；　ruefully　eyeing

the　tiny　bit　of　fresh　color　his　canvas　showed　for

his　long　afternoon's　work。



‘‘You　wait　and　see；''　nodded　Billy；　with　so

overwhelming　a　cheery　confidence　that　Bertram；

looking　into　her　glowing　face；　was　conscious　of　a

curious　throb　of　exultation；　almost　as　if　already

the　victory　were　his。



But　it　was　not　always　of　Bertram's　broken

arm；　nor　even　of　his　work　that　they　talked。　　Bertram；

hanging　over　the　baby's　crib　to　assure　himself

that　the　rosiness　and　the　sparkle　were　really

growing　more　apparent　every　day；　used　to　wonder

sometimes　how　ever　in　the　world　he　could

have　been　jealous　of　his　son。　　He　said　as　much

one　day　to　Billy。



To　Billy　it　was　a　most　astounding　idea。



‘‘You　mean　you　were　actually　jealous　of　your

own　baby？''　she　gasped。　　‘‘Why；　Bertram；　how

could　　And　was　that　why　youyou　sought

distraction　and　　Oh；　but；　Bertram；　that　was

all　my　f…fault；''　she　quavered　remorsefully。　　‘‘I

wouldn't　play；　nor　sing；　nor　go　to　walk；　nor

anything；　and　I　wore　horrid　frowzy　wrappers　all　the

time；　and''



‘‘Oh；　come；　come；　Billy；''　expostulated　the

man。　　‘‘I'm　not　going　to　have　you　talk　like　that

about　_my　wife！_''



‘‘But　I　didthe　book　said　I　did；''　wailed

Billy。



‘‘The　book？　　Good　heavens！　　Are　there　any

books　in　this；　too？''　demanded　Bertram。



‘‘Yes；　the　same　one；　thethe　‘Talks　to

Young　Wives；'　''　nodded　Billy。　　And　then；

because　some　things　had　grown　small　to　them；　and

some　others　great；　they　both　laughed　happily。



But　even　this　was　not　quite　all；　for　one

evening；　very　shyly；　Billy　brought　out　the　chessboard。



‘‘Of　course　I　can't　play　well；''　she　faltered；

‘‘and　maybe　you　don't　want　to　play　with　me　at

all。''



But　Bertram；　when　he　found　out　why　she　had

learned；　was　very　sure　he　did　want　very　much

to　play　with　her。



Billy　did　not　beat；　of　course。　　But　she　did

several　times　experiencefor　a　few　blissful　minutes

the　pleasure　of　seeing　Bertram　sit　motionless；

studying　the　board；　because　of　a　move　she　had

made。　　And　though；　in　the　end；　her　king　was

ignominiously　trapped　with　not　an　unguarded

square　upon　which　to　set　his　poor　distracted

foot；　the　memory　of　those　blissful　minutes　when

she　had　made　Bertram　‘‘stare''　more　than　paid

for　the　final　checkmate。



By　the　middle　of　June　the　baby　was　well

enough　to　be　taken　to　the　beach；　and　Bertram

was　so　fortunate　as　to　secure　the　same　house

they　had　occupied　before。　　Once　again　William

went　down　in　Maine　for　his　fishing　trip；　and　the

Strata　was　closed。　　In　the　beach　house　Bertram

was　painting　industriouslywith　his　left　hand。　

Almost　he　was　beginning　to　feel　Billy's　enthusiasm。　

Almost　he　was　believing　that　he　_was_　doing

good　work。　　It　was　not　the　‘‘Face　of　a　Girl；''　now。　

It　was　the　face　of　a　baby：　smiling；　laughing；　even

crying；　sometimes；　at　other　times　just　gazing

straight　into　your　eyes　with　adorable　soberness。　

Bertram　still　went　into　Boston　twice　a　week　for

treatment；　though　the　treatment　itself　had

changed。　　The　great　surgeon　had　sent　him　to

still　another　specialist。



‘‘There's　a　chancethough　perhaps　a　small

one；''　he　had　said。　　‘‘I'd　like　you　to　try　it；　anyway。''



As　the　summer　advanced；　Bertram　thought

sometimes　that　he　could　see　a　slight　improvement

in　his　injured　arm；　but　he　tried　not　to

think　too　much　about　this。　　He　had　thought

the　same　thing　before；　only　to　be　disappointed

in　the　end。　　Besides；　he　was　undeniably　interested

just　now　in　seeing　if　he　_could_　paint　with

his　left　hand。　　Billy　was　so　sure；　and　she　had

said　that　she　would　be　prouder　than　ever　of　him；

if　he　couldand　he　would　like　to　make　Billy

proud！　　Then；　too；　there　was　the　babyhe　had

no　idea　a　baby　could　be　so　interesting　to　paint。　

He　was　not　sure　but　that　he　was　going　to　like　to

paint　babies　even　better　than　he　had　liked　to

paint　his　‘‘Face　of　a　Girl''　that　had　brought

him　his　first　fame。



In　September　the　family　returned　to　the　Strata。　

The　move　was　made　a　little　earlier　this　year　on

account　of　Alice　Greggory's　wedding。



Alice　was　to　be　married　in　the　pretty　living…

room　at　the　Annex；　just　where　Billy　herself　had

been　married　a　few　short　years　before；　and

Billy　had　great　plans　for　the　weddingnot

all　of　which　she　was　able　to　carry　out；　for

Alice；　like　Marie　before　her；　had　very　strong

objections　to　being　placed　under　too　great

obligations。



‘‘And　you　see；　really；　anyway；''　she　told　Billy；



‘‘I　owe　t