“Billy!” pleaded Bertram so despairingly, that Billy, really conscience-smitten, sat back in her seat and remained, for the rest of the act, very quiet indeed.
Deceived by her apparent tranquillity, Bertram turned as the curtain went down.
“Now, Billy, surely you don't think it'll be necessary to telephone so soon as this again,” he ventured.
Billy's countenance fell.
“But, Bertram, you said you would! Of course if you aren't willing to—but I've been counting on hearing all through this horrid long act, and—”
“Goodness me, Billy, I'll telephone every minute for you, of course, if you want me to,” cried Bertram, springing to his feet, and trying not to show his impatience.
He was back more promptly this time.
“Everything O. K.,” he smiled reassuringly into Billy's anxious eyes. “Delia said she'd just been up, and the little chap was sound asleep.”
To the man's unbounded surprise, his wife grew actually white.
“Up! Up!” she exclaimed. “Do you mean that Delia went down-stairs to stay, and left my baby up there alone?”