Billy, however, attacked each new duty with a feverish eagerness that seemed to make the performance of it very like some glad penance done for past misdeeds.

And when--on the day after they had laid the old servant in his last resting place--a despairing message came from Eliza to the effect that now her mother was very ill, and would need her care, Billy promptly told Eliza to stay as long as was necessary; that they could get along all right without her.
"But, Billy, what _are_ we going to do ?" Bertram demanded, when he heard the news.

"We must have somebody!" "_I'm_ going to do it." "Nonsense! As if you could!" scoffed Bertram.
Billy lifted her chin.
"Couldn't I, indeed," she retorted.

"Do you realize, young man, how much I've done the last three days?
How about those muffins you had this morning for breakfast, and that cake last night?
And didn't you yourself say that you never ate a better pudding than that date puff yesterday noon ?" Bertram laughed and shrugged his shoulders.
"My dear love, I'm not questioning your _ability_ to do it," he soothed quickly.

"Still," he added, with a whimsical smile, "I must remind you that Eliza has been here half the time, and that muffins and date puffs, however delicious, aren't all there is to running a big house like this.
Besides, just be sensible, Billy," he went on more seriously, as he noted the rebellious gleam coming into his young wife's eyes; "you'd know you couldn't do it, if you'd just stop to think.