"Is the house on fire?" she demanded in feminine alarm, as she turned and sped across the lawn.
Billy laughed derisively.
"If that isn't just like a girl! It's nothing of the kind, Ted; it's good news."
"What a scare you gave me, you sinner!" She dropped down on the step below him and fanned herself with her hat, for it was noon of an August day. "What is your great news, anyway?"
"But I thought you said it was good news," Theodora said, in some perplexity.
"So 'tis. Wait till you hear the rest of it. He isn't dangerous, only comfortable; but the doctors say he'll die unless he goes up into the mountains. He won't go unless mamma goes, and so she's going."
"But for the life of me, I don't see anything so very good in all that," Theodora said again.
"It is very solemn and serious so far, for he's really awfully ill, and mamma doesn't want to leave me, and she feels that it is her duty to go," Billy answered, trying to subdue the rapture written in every line of his face. "Now we're coming to the good part,—good for me, that is, for I don't know what you'll say to it. She is going to be away for six weeks, and I'm to be at your house."
"Oh, Billy, how splendid!" Theodora's tone left no doubt of her sincerity. "When are you coming?"