“But, Billy, she said he was all right,” murmured Bertram, softly, casting uneasy sidelong glances at his too interested neighbors.
“'All right'! Perhaps he was, then—but he may not be, later. Delia should stay in the next room all the time, where she could hear the least thing.”
“Yes, dear, she will, I'm sure, if you tell her to,” soothed Bertram, quickly. “It'll be all right next time.”
Billy shook her head. She was obviously near to crying.
“But, Bertram, I can't stand it to sit here enjoying myself all safe and comfortable, and know that Baby is alone up there in that great big room! Please, please won't you go and telephone Delia to go up now and stay there?”
Bertram, weary, sorely tried, and increasingly aware of those annoyingly interested neighbors, was on the point of saying a very decided no; but a glance into Billy's pleading eyes settled it. Without a word he went back to the telephone.
The curtain was up when he slipped into his seat, very red of face. In answer to Billy's hurried whisper he shook his head; but in the short pause between the first and second scenes he said, in a low voice:
“I'm sorry, Billy, but I couldn't get the house at all.”
“Couldn't get them! But you'd just been talking with them!”
“That's exactly it, probably. I had just telephoned, so they weren't watching for the bell. Anyhow, I couldn't get them.”