“I imagine nobody knew,” his father answered.  “As you know, she was queer, and as tight as a clam when it came to talking about her personal affairs.  The only thing we’re sure of is that she had plenty of money to travel anywhere she wanted to, and that’s saying something these days.”

“I say, Billie,” cried Chet, his eyes shining with the thought—­dear, unselfish Chet, his first hope even then was more for Billie than himself, “you are Aunt Beatrice’s namesake, you know.  Maybe she left you something in her will.”

“Chet,” his mother chided gently, “don’t you think it is rather heartless to be counting on what Aunt Beatrice has left when we have just heard of her death?”

“I suppose so,” said Chet, rather abashed.  “But then you know we only saw her about once in every three years, and then she wasn’t very friendly.”

“Are you really going, Mother, you and Dad?” asked Billie, for it seemed impossible to her that her father and mother should go off on such a long journey and leave her and Chet behind.  “Are you?” she asked again anxiously.

“Yes, I suppose we must,” said Mrs. Bradley, looking across at her husband, who answered her with a smile.

“I don’t see what else we can do,” he replied, as he looked at his young daughter.  “You can keep house while we’re gone, Billie, just to see how you like it.”

“Me keep house!” cried Billie, dismayed.  “Why, I don’t know the first thing about it!”

“That’s the best way to learn,” returned her father, while Mrs. Bradley began to smile.  “Experience is the very best teacher, you know.”

“That’s all right, but you don’t seem to realize that she will be learning at my expense,” groaned Chet, adding as a horrible thought struck him:  “Billie won’t have to cook anything, will she?”

“Of course not,” laughed Mrs. Bradley, and Chet sighed with relief.  “Debbie will be here as usual to do the cooking.  And, of course,” she added to Billie, putting an arm about her and drawing her close, “Debbie will help you with anything you want to know.  We probably won’t be gone more than a week, anyway.”

So it was arranged, and a couple of days later, with a wildly beating heart and a rueful smile upon her lips, Billie stood with Chet upon the station platform and waved good-bye to her father and mother.

When the train had rounded the curve and disappeared with one last challenging blast of the whistle, Billie and Chet turned to each other, feeling as lost and forlorn as the babes in the wood.

“Now, what do we do next?” breathed Billie, breaking the silence at last.  “I feel helpless, Chet.”

“Well, I don’t think you have anything on me,” admitted Chet slangily.  “I suppose the most sensible thing to do would be to go home and see how Debbie is getting on with the lunch.”

“Goodness, that’s the first time I ever had to be reminded that I was hungry,” said Billie, and with that they laughed and felt more natural.