Miss Billie's Decision [7]
Mary Jane to let us know the day and train and we'll meet her. Oh, and Aunt Hannah, tell her to wear a pink--a white pink; and tell her we will, too,'' she finished gayly.
CHAPTER III
BILLY AND BERTRAM
Bertram called that evening. Before the open fire in the living-room he found a pensive Billy awaiting him--a Billy who let herself be kissed, it is true, and who even kissed back, shyly, adorably; but a Billy who looked at him with wide, almost frightened eyes.
``Why, darling, what's the matter?'' he demanded, his own eyes growing wide and frightened.
``Bertram, it's--done!''
``What's done? What do you mean?''
``Our engagement. It's--announced. I wrote stacks of notes to-day, and even now there are some left for to-morrow. And then there's--the newspapers. Bertram, right away, now, _everybody_ will know it.'' Her voice was tragic.
Bertram relaxed visibly. A tender light came to his eyes.
``Well, didn't you expect everybody would know it, my dear?''
``Y-yes; but--''
At her hesitation, the tender light changed to a quick fear.
``Billy, you aren't--sorry?''
The pink glory that suffused her face answered him before her words did.
``Sorry! Oh, never, Bertram! It's only that it won't be ours any longer--that is, it won't belong to just our two selves. Everybody will know it. And they'll bow and smile and say `How lovely!' to our faces, and `Did you ever?' to our backs. Oh, no, I'm not sorry, Bertram; but I am--afraid.''
``_Afraid_--Billy!''
``Yes.''
Billy sighed, and gazed with pensive eyes into the fire.
Across Bertram's face swept surprise, consternation, and dismay. Bertram had thought he knew Billy in all her moods and fancies; but he did not know her in this one.
``Why, Billy!'' he breathed.
Billy drew another sigh. It seemed to come from the very bottoms of her small, satin-slippered feet.
``Well, I am. You're _the_ Bertram Henshaw. You know lots and lots of people that I never even saw. And they'll come and stand around and stare and lift their lorgnettes and say: `Is that the one? Dear me!' ''
Bertram gave a relieved laugh.
``Nonsense, sweetheart! I should think you were a picture I'd painted and hung on a wall.''
``I shall feel as if I were--with all those friends of yours. Bertram, what if they don't like it?'' Her voice had grown tragic again.
``_Like_ it!''
``Yes. The picture--me, I mean.''
``They can't help liking it,'' he retorted, with the prompt certainty of an adoring lover.
Billy shook her head. Her eyes had gone back to the fire.
``Oh, yes, they can. I can hear them. `What, _she_--Bertram Henshaw's wife?--a frivolous, inconsequential ``Billy'' like that?' Bertram!'' --Billy turned fiercely despairing eyes on her lover--``Bertram, sometimes I wish my name were `Clarissa Cordelia,' or `Arabella Maud,' or `Hannah Jane'--anything that's feminine and proper!''
Bertram's ringing laugh brought a faint smile to Billy's lips. But the words that followed the laugh, and the caressing touch of the man's hands sent a flood of shy color to her face.
`` `Hannah Jane,' indeed! As if I'd exchange my Billy for her or any Clarissa or Arabella that ever grew! I adore Billy--flame, nature, and--''
``And naughtiness?'' put in Billy herself.
``Yes--if there be any,'' laughed Bertram, fondly. ``But, see,'' he added, taking a tiny box from his pocket, ``see what I've brought for this same Billy to wear. She'd have had it long ago if she hadn't insisted on waiting for this announcement business.''
``Oh, Bertram, what a beauty!'' dimpled Billy, as the flawless diamond in Bertram's fingers caught the light and sent it back in a flash of flame and crimson.
``Now you are mine--really mine, sweetheart!'' The man's voice and hand shook as he slipped the ring on Billy's outstretched finger.
Billy caught her breath with almost a sob.
``And I'm so glad to be--yours, dear,'' she murmured brokenly. ``And--and I'll make you proud that I am yours, even if I am just `Billy,' '' she choked. ``Oh, I
CHAPTER III
BILLY AND BERTRAM
Bertram called that evening. Before the open fire in the living-room he found a pensive Billy awaiting him--a Billy who let herself be kissed, it is true, and who even kissed back, shyly, adorably; but a Billy who looked at him with wide, almost frightened eyes.
``Why, darling, what's the matter?'' he demanded, his own eyes growing wide and frightened.
``Bertram, it's--done!''
``What's done? What do you mean?''
``Our engagement. It's--announced. I wrote stacks of notes to-day, and even now there are some left for to-morrow. And then there's--the newspapers. Bertram, right away, now, _everybody_ will know it.'' Her voice was tragic.
Bertram relaxed visibly. A tender light came to his eyes.
``Well, didn't you expect everybody would know it, my dear?''
``Y-yes; but--''
At her hesitation, the tender light changed to a quick fear.
``Billy, you aren't--sorry?''
The pink glory that suffused her face answered him before her words did.
``Sorry! Oh, never, Bertram! It's only that it won't be ours any longer--that is, it won't belong to just our two selves. Everybody will know it. And they'll bow and smile and say `How lovely!' to our faces, and `Did you ever?' to our backs. Oh, no, I'm not sorry, Bertram; but I am--afraid.''
``_Afraid_--Billy!''
``Yes.''
Billy sighed, and gazed with pensive eyes into the fire.
Across Bertram's face swept surprise, consternation, and dismay. Bertram had thought he knew Billy in all her moods and fancies; but he did not know her in this one.
``Why, Billy!'' he breathed.
Billy drew another sigh. It seemed to come from the very bottoms of her small, satin-slippered feet.
``Well, I am. You're _the_ Bertram Henshaw. You know lots and lots of people that I never even saw. And they'll come and stand around and stare and lift their lorgnettes and say: `Is that the one? Dear me!' ''
Bertram gave a relieved laugh.
``Nonsense, sweetheart! I should think you were a picture I'd painted and hung on a wall.''
``I shall feel as if I were--with all those friends of yours. Bertram, what if they don't like it?'' Her voice had grown tragic again.
``_Like_ it!''
``Yes. The picture--me, I mean.''
``They can't help liking it,'' he retorted, with the prompt certainty of an adoring lover.
Billy shook her head. Her eyes had gone back to the fire.
``Oh, yes, they can. I can hear them. `What, _she_--Bertram Henshaw's wife?--a frivolous, inconsequential ``Billy'' like that?' Bertram!'' --Billy turned fiercely despairing eyes on her lover--``Bertram, sometimes I wish my name were `Clarissa Cordelia,' or `Arabella Maud,' or `Hannah Jane'--anything that's feminine and proper!''
Bertram's ringing laugh brought a faint smile to Billy's lips. But the words that followed the laugh, and the caressing touch of the man's hands sent a flood of shy color to her face.
`` `Hannah Jane,' indeed! As if I'd exchange my Billy for her or any Clarissa or Arabella that ever grew! I adore Billy--flame, nature, and--''
``And naughtiness?'' put in Billy herself.
``Yes--if there be any,'' laughed Bertram, fondly. ``But, see,'' he added, taking a tiny box from his pocket, ``see what I've brought for this same Billy to wear. She'd have had it long ago if she hadn't insisted on waiting for this announcement business.''
``Oh, Bertram, what a beauty!'' dimpled Billy, as the flawless diamond in Bertram's fingers caught the light and sent it back in a flash of flame and crimson.
``Now you are mine--really mine, sweetheart!'' The man's voice and hand shook as he slipped the ring on Billy's outstretched finger.
Billy caught her breath with almost a sob.
``And I'm so glad to be--yours, dear,'' she murmured brokenly. ``And--and I'll make you proud that I am yours, even if I am just `Billy,' '' she choked. ``Oh, I