Miss Billie's Decision [93]
too. I'll go down there this morning to tell them, and to get the tickets. I've got it all planned.''
Billy had, indeed, ``got it all planned.'' She had been longing for something that would take her away from the house--and if possible away from herself. This would do the one easily, and might help on the other. She rose at once.
``I'll go right away,'' she said.
``But, my dear,'' frowned Aunt Hannah, anxiously, ``I don't believe I can go to-night--though I'd love to, dearly.''
``But why not?''
``I'm tired and half sick with a headache this morning. I didn't sleep, and I've taken cold somewhere,'' sighed the lady, pulling the top shawl a little higher about her throat.
``Why, you poor dear, what a shame!''
``Won't Bertram go?'' asked Aunt Hannah.
Billy shook her head--but she did not meet Aunt Hannah's eyes.
``Oh, no. I sha'n't even ask him. He said last night he had a banquet on for to-night--one of his art clubs, I believe.'' Billy's voice was casualness itself.
``But you'll have the Greggorys--that is, Mrs. Greggory _can_ go, can't she?'' inquired Aunt Hannah.
``Oh, yes; I'm sure she can,'' nodded Billy. ``You know she went to the operetta, and this is just the same--only bigger.''
``Yes, yes, I know,'' murmured Aunt Hannah.
``Dear me! How can she get about so on those two wretched little sticks? She's a perfect marvel to me.''
``She is to me, too,'' sighed Billy, as she hurried from the room.
Billy was, indeed, in a hurry. To herself she said she wanted to get away--away! And she got away as soon as she could.
She had her plans all made. She would go first to the Greggorys' and invite them to attend the opera with her that evening. Then she would get the tickets. Just what she would do with the rest of the day she did not know. She knew only that she would not go home until time to dress for dinner and the opera. She did not tell Aunt Hannah this, however, when she left the house. She planned to telephone it from somewhere down town, later. She told herself that she _could not_ stay all day under the sharp eyes of Aunt Hannah --but she managed, nevertheless, to bid that lady a particularly blithe and bright-faced good-by.
Billy had not been long gone when the telephone bell rang. Aunt Hannah answered it.
``Why, Bertram, is that you?'' she called, in answer to the words that came to her across the wire. ``Why, I hardly knew your voice!''
``Didn't you? Well, is--is Billy there?''
``No, she isn't. She's gone down to see Alice Greggory.''
``Oh!'' So evident was the disappointment in the voice that Aunt Hannah added hastily:
``I'm so sorry! She hasn't been gone ten minutes. But--is there any message?''
``No, thank you. There's no--message.'' The voice hesitated, then went on a little constrainedly. ``How--how is Billy this morning? She--she's all right, isn't she?''
Aunt Hannah laughed in obvious amusement.
``Bless your dear heart, yes, my boy! Has it been such a _long_ time since last evening--when you saw her yourself? Yes, she's all right. In fact, I was thinking at the breakfast table how pretty she looked with her pink cheeks and her bright eyes. She seemed to be in such high spirits.''
An inarticulate something that Aunt Hannah could not quite catch came across the line; then a somewhat hurried ``All right. Thank you. Good-by.''
The next time Aunt Hannah was called to the
telephone, Billy spoke to her.
``Aunt Hannah, don't wait luncheon for me, please. I shall get it in town. And don't expect me till five o'clock. I have some shopping to do.''
``All right, dear,'' replied Aunt Hannah. ``Did you get the tickets?''
``Yes, and the Greggorys will go. Oh, and Aunt Hannah!''
``Yes, dear.''
``Please tell John to bring Peggy around early enough to-night so we can go down and get the Greggorys. I told them we'd call for them.''
``Very well, dear. I'll tell him.''
``Thank you. How's the poor head?''
``Better, a little, I think.''
``That's good. Won't you repent and go,
Billy had, indeed, ``got it all planned.'' She had been longing for something that would take her away from the house--and if possible away from herself. This would do the one easily, and might help on the other. She rose at once.
``I'll go right away,'' she said.
``But, my dear,'' frowned Aunt Hannah, anxiously, ``I don't believe I can go to-night--though I'd love to, dearly.''
``But why not?''
``I'm tired and half sick with a headache this morning. I didn't sleep, and I've taken cold somewhere,'' sighed the lady, pulling the top shawl a little higher about her throat.
``Why, you poor dear, what a shame!''
``Won't Bertram go?'' asked Aunt Hannah.
Billy shook her head--but she did not meet Aunt Hannah's eyes.
``Oh, no. I sha'n't even ask him. He said last night he had a banquet on for to-night--one of his art clubs, I believe.'' Billy's voice was casualness itself.
``But you'll have the Greggorys--that is, Mrs. Greggory _can_ go, can't she?'' inquired Aunt Hannah.
``Oh, yes; I'm sure she can,'' nodded Billy. ``You know she went to the operetta, and this is just the same--only bigger.''
``Yes, yes, I know,'' murmured Aunt Hannah.
``Dear me! How can she get about so on those two wretched little sticks? She's a perfect marvel to me.''
``She is to me, too,'' sighed Billy, as she hurried from the room.
Billy was, indeed, in a hurry. To herself she said she wanted to get away--away! And she got away as soon as she could.
She had her plans all made. She would go first to the Greggorys' and invite them to attend the opera with her that evening. Then she would get the tickets. Just what she would do with the rest of the day she did not know. She knew only that she would not go home until time to dress for dinner and the opera. She did not tell Aunt Hannah this, however, when she left the house. She planned to telephone it from somewhere down town, later. She told herself that she _could not_ stay all day under the sharp eyes of Aunt Hannah --but she managed, nevertheless, to bid that lady a particularly blithe and bright-faced good-by.
Billy had not been long gone when the telephone bell rang. Aunt Hannah answered it.
``Why, Bertram, is that you?'' she called, in answer to the words that came to her across the wire. ``Why, I hardly knew your voice!''
``Didn't you? Well, is--is Billy there?''
``No, she isn't. She's gone down to see Alice Greggory.''
``Oh!'' So evident was the disappointment in the voice that Aunt Hannah added hastily:
``I'm so sorry! She hasn't been gone ten minutes. But--is there any message?''
``No, thank you. There's no--message.'' The voice hesitated, then went on a little constrainedly. ``How--how is Billy this morning? She--she's all right, isn't she?''
Aunt Hannah laughed in obvious amusement.
``Bless your dear heart, yes, my boy! Has it been such a _long_ time since last evening--when you saw her yourself? Yes, she's all right. In fact, I was thinking at the breakfast table how pretty she looked with her pink cheeks and her bright eyes. She seemed to be in such high spirits.''
An inarticulate something that Aunt Hannah could not quite catch came across the line; then a somewhat hurried ``All right. Thank you. Good-by.''
The next time Aunt Hannah was called to the
telephone, Billy spoke to her.
``Aunt Hannah, don't wait luncheon for me, please. I shall get it in town. And don't expect me till five o'clock. I have some shopping to do.''
``All right, dear,'' replied Aunt Hannah. ``Did you get the tickets?''
``Yes, and the Greggorys will go. Oh, and Aunt Hannah!''
``Yes, dear.''
``Please tell John to bring Peggy around early enough to-night so we can go down and get the Greggorys. I told them we'd call for them.''
``Very well, dear. I'll tell him.''
``Thank you. How's the poor head?''
``Better, a little, I think.''
``That's good. Won't you repent and go,