Miss Billie's Decision [55]
too, eh?''
Billy's chin rose to a defiant stubbornness.
``I'm going to try to--if I can find out what kind of frosting she likes.''
``How about the Alice lady--or perhaps I should say, the Lady Alice?'' smiled the man.
Billy relaxed visibly.
``Yes, I know,'' she sighed. ``There is--the Lady Alice. But, anyhow, she can't call a Christmas present `charity'--not if it's only a little bit of frosting!'' Billy's chin came up again.
``And you're going to, really, dare to send her something?''
``Yes,'' avowed Billy. ``I'm going down there one of these days, in the morning--''
``You're going down there! Billy--not alone?''
``Yes. Why not?''
``But, dearie, you mustn't. It was a horrid place, Will says.''
``So it was horrid--to live in. It was everything that was cheap and mean and forlorn. But it was quiet and respectable. 'Tisn't as if I didn't know the way, Bertram; and I'm sure that where that poor crippled woman and daughter are safe, I shall be. Mrs. Greggory is a lady, Bertram, well- born and well-bred, I'm sure--and that's the pity of it, to have to live in a place like that! They have seen better days, I know. Those pitiful little worn crutches of hers were mahogany, I'm sure, Bertram, and they were silver mounted.''
Bertram made a restless movement.
``I know, dear; but if you had some one with you! It wouldn't do for Will, of course, nor me-- under the circumstances. But there's Aunt Hannah--'' He paused hopefully.
Billy chuckled.
``Bless your dear heart! Aunt Hannah would call for a dozen shawls in that place--if she had breath enough to call for any after she got to the top of those four flights!''
``Yes, I suppose so,'' rejoined Bertram, with an unwilling smile. ``Still--well, you _can_ take Rosa,'' he concluded decisively.
``How Miss Alice would like that--to catch me going `slumming' with my maid!'' cried Billy, righteous indignation in her voice. ``Honestly, Bertram, I think even gentle Mrs. Greggory wouldn't stand for that.''
``Then leave Rosa outside in the hall,'' planned Bertram, promptly; and after a few more arguments, Billy finally agreed to this.
It was with Rosa, therefore, that she set out the next morning for the little room up four flights on the narrow West End street.
Leaving the maid on the top stair of the fourth flight, Billy tapped at Mrs. Greggory's door. To her joy Mrs. Greggory herself answered the knock.
``Oh! Why--why, good morning,'' murmured the lady, in evident embarrassment. ``Won't you--come m?''
``Thank you. May I?--just a minute?'' smiled Billy, brightly.
As she entered the room, Billy threw a hasty look about her. There was no one but themselves present. With a sigh of satisfaction, therefore, the girl took the chair Mrs. Greggory offered, and began to speak.
``I was down this way--that is, I came this way this morning,'' she began a little hastily; ``and I wanted just to come up and tell you how sorry I was about--about that teapot the other day. We didn't want it, of course--if you didn't want us to have it.''
A swift change crossed Mrs. Greggory's perturbed face.
``Oh, then you didn't come for it again--to- day,'' she said. ``I'm so glad! I didn't want to refuse--_you_.''
``Indeed I didn't come for it--and we sha'n't again. Don't worry about that, please.''
Mrs. Greggory sighed.
``I'm afraid you thought me very rude and--and impossible the other day,'' she stammered. ``And please let me take this opportunity right now to apologize for my daughter. She was overwrought and excited. She didn't know what she was saying or doing, I'm sure. She was ashamed, I think after you left.''
Billy raised a quick hand of protest.
``Don't, please don't, Mrs. Greggory,'' she begged.
``But it was our fault that you came. We _asked_ you to come--through Mr. Harlow,'' rejoined the other, hurriedly. ``And Mr. Henshaw --was that his name?--was so kind in every way. I'm glad of this chance to tell you how much we really did appreciate it--and _your_ offer, too, which we could
Billy's chin rose to a defiant stubbornness.
``I'm going to try to--if I can find out what kind of frosting she likes.''
``How about the Alice lady--or perhaps I should say, the Lady Alice?'' smiled the man.
Billy relaxed visibly.
``Yes, I know,'' she sighed. ``There is--the Lady Alice. But, anyhow, she can't call a Christmas present `charity'--not if it's only a little bit of frosting!'' Billy's chin came up again.
``And you're going to, really, dare to send her something?''
``Yes,'' avowed Billy. ``I'm going down there one of these days, in the morning--''
``You're going down there! Billy--not alone?''
``Yes. Why not?''
``But, dearie, you mustn't. It was a horrid place, Will says.''
``So it was horrid--to live in. It was everything that was cheap and mean and forlorn. But it was quiet and respectable. 'Tisn't as if I didn't know the way, Bertram; and I'm sure that where that poor crippled woman and daughter are safe, I shall be. Mrs. Greggory is a lady, Bertram, well- born and well-bred, I'm sure--and that's the pity of it, to have to live in a place like that! They have seen better days, I know. Those pitiful little worn crutches of hers were mahogany, I'm sure, Bertram, and they were silver mounted.''
Bertram made a restless movement.
``I know, dear; but if you had some one with you! It wouldn't do for Will, of course, nor me-- under the circumstances. But there's Aunt Hannah--'' He paused hopefully.
Billy chuckled.
``Bless your dear heart! Aunt Hannah would call for a dozen shawls in that place--if she had breath enough to call for any after she got to the top of those four flights!''
``Yes, I suppose so,'' rejoined Bertram, with an unwilling smile. ``Still--well, you _can_ take Rosa,'' he concluded decisively.
``How Miss Alice would like that--to catch me going `slumming' with my maid!'' cried Billy, righteous indignation in her voice. ``Honestly, Bertram, I think even gentle Mrs. Greggory wouldn't stand for that.''
``Then leave Rosa outside in the hall,'' planned Bertram, promptly; and after a few more arguments, Billy finally agreed to this.
It was with Rosa, therefore, that she set out the next morning for the little room up four flights on the narrow West End street.
Leaving the maid on the top stair of the fourth flight, Billy tapped at Mrs. Greggory's door. To her joy Mrs. Greggory herself answered the knock.
``Oh! Why--why, good morning,'' murmured the lady, in evident embarrassment. ``Won't you--come m?''
``Thank you. May I?--just a minute?'' smiled Billy, brightly.
As she entered the room, Billy threw a hasty look about her. There was no one but themselves present. With a sigh of satisfaction, therefore, the girl took the chair Mrs. Greggory offered, and began to speak.
``I was down this way--that is, I came this way this morning,'' she began a little hastily; ``and I wanted just to come up and tell you how sorry I was about--about that teapot the other day. We didn't want it, of course--if you didn't want us to have it.''
A swift change crossed Mrs. Greggory's perturbed face.
``Oh, then you didn't come for it again--to- day,'' she said. ``I'm so glad! I didn't want to refuse--_you_.''
``Indeed I didn't come for it--and we sha'n't again. Don't worry about that, please.''
Mrs. Greggory sighed.
``I'm afraid you thought me very rude and--and impossible the other day,'' she stammered. ``And please let me take this opportunity right now to apologize for my daughter. She was overwrought and excited. She didn't know what she was saying or doing, I'm sure. She was ashamed, I think after you left.''
Billy raised a quick hand of protest.
``Don't, please don't, Mrs. Greggory,'' she begged.
``But it was our fault that you came. We _asked_ you to come--through Mr. Harlow,'' rejoined the other, hurriedly. ``And Mr. Henshaw --was that his name?--was so kind in every way. I'm glad of this chance to tell you how much we really did appreciate it--and _your_ offer, too, which we could