"He said the baby was named for him, but he didn't say what your name was," admitted Betty dimpling.
"Just like him!" grinned her companion. "Dan's so all-fired proud of that youngster he never lets a chance slip to tell we named him Daniel Gowdy Brill. Though Dan senior usually forgets to add the Brill."
"Does—does Mrs. Brill know I'm coming?" ventured Betty.
"She sure does! I telephoned her the minute I heard from Dan, and I suspect she and the baby are sitting out on the fence now watching for you to come along. Sorry I can't go with you, but I've just come on duty. You tell the conductor to let you off at Brill's, and I'll see you at supper to-night."
He helped her on the car, tipped his hat, and ran back to the station, leaving Betty with the comfortable feeling that the Brills were used to company and rather liked it.
She repeated her instructions to the conductor, who nodded silently, and, after a quarter of an hour's ride, signaled to her that her destination was reached. They had passed the town limits, and were in the open country. Betty had noticed several farmhouses, of the artistic remodeled type, evidently summer homes of the well-to-do, as the car rattled along.
She saw one of these as she stepped from the trolley car, and also, under a tree, a young woman holding a beautiful, rosy baby. These two immediately swooped down upon her.
"I'm so glad you've come!" Mrs. Brill kissed her unaffectedly. "Kiss Danny, too! Isn't he a nice baby? We waited lunch for you, and if you're half as starved as we are—"
Still chattering, she led the way into the house. Mrs. Brill was an elder sister of the Hagar's Corner's agent and very like him in face, manner, and bright, cheery way of speaking. The house was tastefully furnished, and a white-capped maid could be seen hovering over the table as they went upstairs. Betty learned long afterward that Mr. Brill's father was wealthy and idolized his son's wife, who had given the younger man the ambition and spur his career had lacked until he met and married her. It was lovely Rose Gowdy who persuaded Steve Brill to take the job of telegraph operator, forgetting his prematurely white hair, and she who encouraged him to work his way to the top of the railroad business. Rose, and Rose's son, were given all the credit of that ultimate success by the older Brill.
"I had a little sister once who looked just like you," said Mrs. Brill, as she watched Betty smooth her hair at the mirror in the chintz-hung guest room. "Her name was Juliet. Poor old Dan nearly broke his heart when she died."