Miss Billie's Decision [26]
his shoulders and got to his feet.
``If you've seen all you want of the rug we'll go down-stairs,'' he said nonchalantly.
``But we haven't!'' chorussed several indignant voices. And for the next few minutes not even the owner of the beautiful Kirman could find any fault with the quantity or the quality of the attention bestowed on his new possession. But Billy, under cover of the chatter, said reproachfully in his ear:
``Oh, Cyril, to think you can play like that-- and won't--on demand!''
``I can't--on demand,'' shrugged Cyril again.
On the way down-stairs they stopped at William's rooms.
``I want you to see a couple of Batterseas I got last week,'' cried the collector eagerly, as he led the way to the black velvet square. ``They're fine--and I think she looks like you,'' he finished, turning to Billy, and holding out one of the knobs, on which was a beautifully executed miniature of a young girl with dark, dreamy eyes.
``Oh, how pretty!'' exclaimed Marie, over Billy's shoulder. ``But what are they?''
The collector turned, his face alight.
``Mirror knobs. I've got lots of them. Would you like to see them--really? They're right here.''
The next minute Marie found herself looking into a cabinet where lay a score or more of round and oval discs of glass, porcelain, and metal, framed in silver, gilt, and brass, and mounted on long spikes.
``Oh, how pretty,'' cried Marie again; ``but how--how queer! Tell me about them, please.''
William drew a long breath. His eyes glistened. William loved to talk--when he had a curio and a listener.
``I will. Our great-grandmothers used them, you know, to support their mirrors, or to fasten back their curtains,'' he explained ardently. ``Now here's another Battersea enamel, but it isn't so good as my new ones--that face is almost a caricature.''
``But what a beautiful ship--on that round one!'' exclaimed Marie. ``And what's this one? --glass?''
``Yes; but that's not so rare as the others. Still, it's pretty enough. Did you notice this one, with the bright red and blue and green on the white background?--regular Chinese mode of decoration, that is.''
``Er--any time, William,'' began Bertram, mischievously; but William did not seem to hear.
``Now in this corner,'' he went on, warming to his subject, ``are the enamelled porcelains. They were probably made at the Worcester works --England, you know; and I think many of them are quite as pretty as the Batterseas. You see it was at Worcester that they invented that variation of the transfer printing process that they called bat printing, where they used oil instead of ink, and gelatine instead of paper. Now engravings for that kind of printing were usually in stipple work--dots, you know--so the prints on these knobs can easily be distinguished from those of the transfer printing. See? Now, this one is--''
``Er, of course, William, any time--'' interposed Bertram again, his eyes twinkling.
William stopped with a laugh.
``Yes, I know. 'Tis time I talked of something else, Bertram,'' he conceded.
``But 'twas lovely, and I _was_ interested, really,'' claimed Marie. ``Besides, there are such a lot of things here that I'd like to see,'' she finished, turning slowly about.
``These are what he was collecting last year,'' murmured Billy, hovering over a small cabinet where were some beautiful specimens of antique jewelry brooches, necklaces, armlets, Rajah rings, and anklets, gorgeous in color and exquisite in workmanship.
``Well, here is something you _will_ enjoy,'' declared Bertram, with an airy flourish. ``Do you see those teapots? Well, we can have tea every day in the year, and not use one of them but five times. I've counted. There are exactly seventy-three,'' he concluded, as he laughingly led the way from the room.
``How about leap year?'' quizzed Billy.
``Ho! Trust Will to find another `Old Blue' or a `perfect treasure of a black basalt' by that time,'' shrugged Bertram.
Below William's rooms was the floor once Bertram's, but afterwards given
``If you've seen all you want of the rug we'll go down-stairs,'' he said nonchalantly.
``But we haven't!'' chorussed several indignant voices. And for the next few minutes not even the owner of the beautiful Kirman could find any fault with the quantity or the quality of the attention bestowed on his new possession. But Billy, under cover of the chatter, said reproachfully in his ear:
``Oh, Cyril, to think you can play like that-- and won't--on demand!''
``I can't--on demand,'' shrugged Cyril again.
On the way down-stairs they stopped at William's rooms.
``I want you to see a couple of Batterseas I got last week,'' cried the collector eagerly, as he led the way to the black velvet square. ``They're fine--and I think she looks like you,'' he finished, turning to Billy, and holding out one of the knobs, on which was a beautifully executed miniature of a young girl with dark, dreamy eyes.
``Oh, how pretty!'' exclaimed Marie, over Billy's shoulder. ``But what are they?''
The collector turned, his face alight.
``Mirror knobs. I've got lots of them. Would you like to see them--really? They're right here.''
The next minute Marie found herself looking into a cabinet where lay a score or more of round and oval discs of glass, porcelain, and metal, framed in silver, gilt, and brass, and mounted on long spikes.
``Oh, how pretty,'' cried Marie again; ``but how--how queer! Tell me about them, please.''
William drew a long breath. His eyes glistened. William loved to talk--when he had a curio and a listener.
``I will. Our great-grandmothers used them, you know, to support their mirrors, or to fasten back their curtains,'' he explained ardently. ``Now here's another Battersea enamel, but it isn't so good as my new ones--that face is almost a caricature.''
``But what a beautiful ship--on that round one!'' exclaimed Marie. ``And what's this one? --glass?''
``Yes; but that's not so rare as the others. Still, it's pretty enough. Did you notice this one, with the bright red and blue and green on the white background?--regular Chinese mode of decoration, that is.''
``Er--any time, William,'' began Bertram, mischievously; but William did not seem to hear.
``Now in this corner,'' he went on, warming to his subject, ``are the enamelled porcelains. They were probably made at the Worcester works --England, you know; and I think many of them are quite as pretty as the Batterseas. You see it was at Worcester that they invented that variation of the transfer printing process that they called bat printing, where they used oil instead of ink, and gelatine instead of paper. Now engravings for that kind of printing were usually in stipple work--dots, you know--so the prints on these knobs can easily be distinguished from those of the transfer printing. See? Now, this one is--''
``Er, of course, William, any time--'' interposed Bertram again, his eyes twinkling.
William stopped with a laugh.
``Yes, I know. 'Tis time I talked of something else, Bertram,'' he conceded.
``But 'twas lovely, and I _was_ interested, really,'' claimed Marie. ``Besides, there are such a lot of things here that I'd like to see,'' she finished, turning slowly about.
``These are what he was collecting last year,'' murmured Billy, hovering over a small cabinet where were some beautiful specimens of antique jewelry brooches, necklaces, armlets, Rajah rings, and anklets, gorgeous in color and exquisite in workmanship.
``Well, here is something you _will_ enjoy,'' declared Bertram, with an airy flourish. ``Do you see those teapots? Well, we can have tea every day in the year, and not use one of them but five times. I've counted. There are exactly seventy-three,'' he concluded, as he laughingly led the way from the room.
``How about leap year?'' quizzed Billy.
``Ho! Trust Will to find another `Old Blue' or a `perfect treasure of a black basalt' by that time,'' shrugged Bertram.
Below William's rooms was the floor once Bertram's, but afterwards given