Miss Billie's Decision [20]
never do in the world. It would break Marie's heart. You know how she dotes on darning.''
``Yes, I know,'' smiled Aunt Hannah. ``By the way, where is she this morning?''
Billy raised her eyebrows quizzically.
``Gone to look at an apartment in Cambridge, I believe. Really, Aunt Hannah, between her home- hunting in the morning, and her furniture-and- rug hunting in the afternoon, and her poring over house-plans in the evening, I can't get her to attend to her clothes at all. Never did I see a bride so utterly indifferent to her trousseau as Marie Hawthorn--and her wedding less than a month away!''
``But she's been shopping with you once or twice, since she came back, hasn't she? And she said it was for her trousseau.''
Billy laughed.
``Her trousseau! Oh, yes, it was. I'll tell you what she got for her trousseau that first day. We started out to buy two hats, some lace for her wedding gown, some crpe de Chine and net for a little dinner frock, and some silk for a couple of waists to go with her tailored suit; and what did we get? We purchased a new-style egg-beater and a set of cake tins. Marie got into the kitchen department and I simply couldn't get her out of it. But the next day I was not to be inveigled below stairs by any plaintive prayer for a nutmeg- grater or a soda spoon. She _shopped_ that day, and to some purpose. We accomplished lots.''
Aunt Hannah looked a little concerned.
``But she must have _some_ things started!''
``Oh, she has--'most everything now. _I've_ seen to that. Of course her outfit is very simple, anyway. Marie hasn't much money, you know, and she simply won't let me do half what I want to. Still, she had saved up some money, and I've finally convinced her that a trousseau doesn't consist of egg-beaters and cake tins, and that Cyril would want her to look pretty. That name will fetch her every time, and I've learned to use it beautifully. I think if I told her Cyril approved of short hair and near-sightedness she'd I cut off her golden locks and don spectacles on the spot.''
Aunt Hannah laughed softly.
``What a child you are, Billy! Besides, just as if Marie were the only one in the house who is ruled by a magic name!''
The color deepened in Billy's cheeks.
``Well, of course, any girl--cares something-- for the man she loves. Just as if I wouldn't do anything in the world I could for Bertram!''
``Oh, that makes me think; who was that young woman Bertram was talking with last evening-- just after he left us, I mean?''
``Miss Winthrop--Miss Marguerite Winthrop. Bertram is--is painting her portrait, you know.''
``Oh, is that the one?'' murmured Aunt Hannah. ``Hm-m; well, she has a beautiful face.''
``Yes, she has.'' Billy spoke very cheerfully. She even hummed a little tune as she carefully selected a needle from the cushion in her basket.
``There's a peculiar something in her face,'' mused Aunt Hannah, aloud.
The little tune stopped abruptly, ending in a nervous laugh.
``Dear me! I wonder how it feels to have a peculiar something in your face. Bertram, too, says she has it. He's trying to `catch it,' he says. I wonder now--if he does catch it, does she lose it?'' Flippant as were the words, the voice that uttered them shook a little.
Aunt Hannah smiled indulgently--Aunt Hannah had heard only the flippancy, not the shake.
``I don't know, my dear. You might ask him this afternoon.''
Billy made a sudden movement. The china egg in her lap rolled to the floor.
``Oh, but I don't see him this afternoon,'' she said lightly, as she stooped to pick up the egg.
``Why, I'm sure he told me--'' Aunt Hannah's sentence ended in a questioning pause.
``Yes, I know,'' nodded Billy, brightly; ``but he's told me something since. He isn't going. He telephoned me this morning. Miss Winthrop wanted the sitting changed from to-morrow to this afternoon. He said he knew I'd understand.''
``Why, yes; but--'' Aunt Hannah did not finish her sentence. The whir of an electric bell had sounded through the house.
``Yes, I know,'' smiled Aunt Hannah. ``By the way, where is she this morning?''
Billy raised her eyebrows quizzically.
``Gone to look at an apartment in Cambridge, I believe. Really, Aunt Hannah, between her home- hunting in the morning, and her furniture-and- rug hunting in the afternoon, and her poring over house-plans in the evening, I can't get her to attend to her clothes at all. Never did I see a bride so utterly indifferent to her trousseau as Marie Hawthorn--and her wedding less than a month away!''
``But she's been shopping with you once or twice, since she came back, hasn't she? And she said it was for her trousseau.''
Billy laughed.
``Her trousseau! Oh, yes, it was. I'll tell you what she got for her trousseau that first day. We started out to buy two hats, some lace for her wedding gown, some cr
Aunt Hannah looked a little concerned.
``But she must have _some_ things started!''
``Oh, she has--'most everything now. _I've_ seen to that. Of course her outfit is very simple, anyway. Marie hasn't much money, you know, and she simply won't let me do half what I want to. Still, she had saved up some money, and I've finally convinced her that a trousseau doesn't consist of egg-beaters and cake tins, and that Cyril would want her to look pretty. That name will fetch her every time, and I've learned to use it beautifully. I think if I told her Cyril approved of short hair and near-sightedness she'd I cut off her golden locks and don spectacles on the spot.''
Aunt Hannah laughed softly.
``What a child you are, Billy! Besides, just as if Marie were the only one in the house who is ruled by a magic name!''
The color deepened in Billy's cheeks.
``Well, of course, any girl--cares something-- for the man she loves. Just as if I wouldn't do anything in the world I could for Bertram!''
``Oh, that makes me think; who was that young woman Bertram was talking with last evening-- just after he left us, I mean?''
``Miss Winthrop--Miss Marguerite Winthrop. Bertram is--is painting her portrait, you know.''
``Oh, is that the one?'' murmured Aunt Hannah. ``Hm-m; well, she has a beautiful face.''
``Yes, she has.'' Billy spoke very cheerfully. She even hummed a little tune as she carefully selected a needle from the cushion in her basket.
``There's a peculiar something in her face,'' mused Aunt Hannah, aloud.
The little tune stopped abruptly, ending in a nervous laugh.
``Dear me! I wonder how it feels to have a peculiar something in your face. Bertram, too, says she has it. He's trying to `catch it,' he says. I wonder now--if he does catch it, does she lose it?'' Flippant as were the words, the voice that uttered them shook a little.
Aunt Hannah smiled indulgently--Aunt Hannah had heard only the flippancy, not the shake.
``I don't know, my dear. You might ask him this afternoon.''
Billy made a sudden movement. The china egg in her lap rolled to the floor.
``Oh, but I don't see him this afternoon,'' she said lightly, as she stooped to pick up the egg.
``Why, I'm sure he told me--'' Aunt Hannah's sentence ended in a questioning pause.
``Yes, I know,'' nodded Billy, brightly; ``but he's told me something since. He isn't going. He telephoned me this morning. Miss Winthrop wanted the sitting changed from to-morrow to this afternoon. He said he knew I'd understand.''
``Why, yes; but--'' Aunt Hannah did not finish her sentence. The whir of an electric bell had sounded through the house.