Miss Billie's Decision [62]
remaining goods--they had lots of quite valuable heirlooms; I suspect that's where your Lowestoft teapot came in--and with the money thus gained they left town. Until they could go, they scarcely showed themselves once on the street, they were never at home to callers, and they left without telling one soul where they were going, so far as we could ever learn.''
``Why, the poor dears!'' cried Billy. ``How they must have suffered! But things will be different now. You'll go to see them, of course, and--'' At the look that came into Arkwright's face, she stopped in surprise.
``You forget; they wouldn't wish to see me,'' demurred the man. And again Billy noticed the odd constraint in his voice.
``But they wouldn't mind _you--here_,'' argued Billy.
``I'm afraid they would. In fact, I'm sure they'd refuse entirely to see me.''
Billy's eyes grew determined.
``But they can't refuse--if I bring about a meeting just casually, you know,'' she challenged.
Arkwright laughed.
``Well, I won't pretend to say as to the consequences of that,'' he rejoined, rising to his feet; ``but they might be disastrous. Wasn't it you yourself who were telling me a few minutes ago how steely cold Miss Alice's eyes got when she was angry?''
Billy knew by the way the man spoke that, for some reason, he did not wish to prolong the subject of his meeting the Greggorys. She made a quick shift, therefore, to another phase of the matter.
``But tell me, please, before you go, how did those rumors come out--about Judge Greggory's honesty, I mean?''
``Why, I never knew, exactly,'' frowned Arkwright, musingly. ``Yet it seems, too, that mother did say in one letter, while I was in Paris, that some of the accusations had been found to be false, and that there was a prospect that the Judge's good name might be saved, after all.''
``Oh, I wish it might,'' sighed Billy. ``Think what it would mean to those women!''
``'Twould mean everything,'' cried Arkwright, warmly; ``and I'll write to mother to-night, I will, and find out just what there is to it-if anything. Then you can tell them,'' he finished a little stiffly.
``Yes--or you,'' nodded Billy, lightly. And because she began at once to speak of something else, the first part of her sentence passed without comment.
The door had scarcely closed behind Arkwright when Billy turned to Aunt Hannah a beaming face.
``Aunt Hannah, did you notice?'' she cried, ``how Mary Jane looked and acted whenever Alice Greggory was spoken of? There was something between them--I'm sure there was; and they quarrelled, probably.''
``Why, no, dear; I didn't see anything unusual,'' murmured the elder lady.
``Well, I did. And I'm going to be the fairy godmother that straightens everything all out, too. See if I'm not! They'd make a splendid couple, Aunt Hannah. I'm going right down there to-morrow.''
``Billy, my dear!'' exclaimed the more conservative old lady, ``aren't you taking things a little too much for granted? Maybe they don't wish for--for a fairy godmother!''
``Oh, _they_ won't know I'm a fairy godmother --not one of them; and of course I wouldn't mention even a hint to anybody,'' laughed Billy. ``I'm just going down to get acquainted with the Greggorys; that's all. Only think, Aunt Hannah, what they must have suffered! And look at the place they're living in now--gentlewomen like them!''
``Yes, yes, poor things, poor things!'' sighed Aunt Hannah.
``I hope I'll find out that she's really good--at teaching, I mean--the daughter,'' resumed Billy, after a moment's pause. ``If she is, there's one thing I can do to help, anyhow. I can get some of Marie's old pupils for her. I _know_ some of them haven't begun with a new teacher, yet; and Mrs. Carleton told me last Friday that neither she nor her sister was at all satisfied with the one their girls _have_ taken. They'd change, I know, in a minute, at my recommendation--that is, of course, if I can _give_ the recommendation,'' continued Billy, with a troubled frown. ``Anyhow, I'm going down to begin
``Why, the poor dears!'' cried Billy. ``How they must have suffered! But things will be different now. You'll go to see them, of course, and--'' At the look that came into Arkwright's face, she stopped in surprise.
``You forget; they wouldn't wish to see me,'' demurred the man. And again Billy noticed the odd constraint in his voice.
``But they wouldn't mind _you--here_,'' argued Billy.
``I'm afraid they would. In fact, I'm sure they'd refuse entirely to see me.''
Billy's eyes grew determined.
``But they can't refuse--if I bring about a meeting just casually, you know,'' she challenged.
Arkwright laughed.
``Well, I won't pretend to say as to the consequences of that,'' he rejoined, rising to his feet; ``but they might be disastrous. Wasn't it you yourself who were telling me a few minutes ago how steely cold Miss Alice's eyes got when she was angry?''
Billy knew by the way the man spoke that, for some reason, he did not wish to prolong the subject of his meeting the Greggorys. She made a quick shift, therefore, to another phase of the matter.
``But tell me, please, before you go, how did those rumors come out--about Judge Greggory's honesty, I mean?''
``Why, I never knew, exactly,'' frowned Arkwright, musingly. ``Yet it seems, too, that mother did say in one letter, while I was in Paris, that some of the accusations had been found to be false, and that there was a prospect that the Judge's good name might be saved, after all.''
``Oh, I wish it might,'' sighed Billy. ``Think what it would mean to those women!''
``'Twould mean everything,'' cried Arkwright, warmly; ``and I'll write to mother to-night, I will, and find out just what there is to it-if anything. Then you can tell them,'' he finished a little stiffly.
``Yes--or you,'' nodded Billy, lightly. And because she began at once to speak of something else, the first part of her sentence passed without comment.
The door had scarcely closed behind Arkwright when Billy turned to Aunt Hannah a beaming face.
``Aunt Hannah, did you notice?'' she cried, ``how Mary Jane looked and acted whenever Alice Greggory was spoken of? There was something between them--I'm sure there was; and they quarrelled, probably.''
``Why, no, dear; I didn't see anything unusual,'' murmured the elder lady.
``Well, I did. And I'm going to be the fairy godmother that straightens everything all out, too. See if I'm not! They'd make a splendid couple, Aunt Hannah. I'm going right down there to-morrow.''
``Billy, my dear!'' exclaimed the more conservative old lady, ``aren't you taking things a little too much for granted? Maybe they don't wish for--for a fairy godmother!''
``Oh, _they_ won't know I'm a fairy godmother --not one of them; and of course I wouldn't mention even a hint to anybody,'' laughed Billy. ``I'm just going down to get acquainted with the Greggorys; that's all. Only think, Aunt Hannah, what they must have suffered! And look at the place they're living in now--gentlewomen like them!''
``Yes, yes, poor things, poor things!'' sighed Aunt Hannah.
``I hope I'll find out that she's really good--at teaching, I mean--the daughter,'' resumed Billy, after a moment's pause. ``If she is, there's one thing I can do to help, anyhow. I can get some of Marie's old pupils for her. I _know_ some of them haven't begun with a new teacher, yet; and Mrs. Carleton told me last Friday that neither she nor her sister was at all satisfied with the one their girls _have_ taken. They'd change, I know, in a minute, at my recommendation--that is, of course, if I can _give_ the recommendation,'' continued Billy, with a troubled frown. ``Anyhow, I'm going down to begin