All these, together with a canary, and a kitten as near like Spunk as could be obtained, made Billy's household.
"And now I'm ready to see my friends," she announced.
"And I think your friends will be ready to see you," Bertram assured her.
And they were--at least, so it appeared.

For at once the little house perched on the hillside became the Mecca for many of the Henshaws' friends who had known Billy as William's merry, eighteen-year-old namesake.

There were others, too, whom Billy had met abroad; and there were soft-stepping, sweet-faced old women and an occasional white-whiskered old man--Aunt Hannah's friends--who found that the young mistress of Hillside was a charming hostess.

There were also the Henshaw "boys," and there was always Calderwell--at least, so Bertram declared to himself sometimes.
Bertram came frequently to the little house on the hill, even more frequently than William; but Cyril was not seen there so often.

He came once at first, it is true, and followed Billy from room to room as she proudly displayed her new home.