“Bertram, I am going home now, please,” she said. “You needn't come with me; I can go alone.”
Bertram said two words under his breath which it was just as well, perhaps, that Billy—and the neighbors—did not hear; then he gathered up their wraps and, with Billy, stalked out of the theater.
At home everything was found to be absolutely as it should be. Bertram, Jr., was peacefully sleeping, and Delia, who had come up from downstairs, was sewing in the next room.
“There, you see,” observed Bertram, a little sourly.
Billy drew a long, contented sigh.
“Yes, I see; everything is all right. But that's exactly what I wanted to do, Bertram, you know—to see for myself,” she finished happily.
And Bertram, looking at her rapt face as she hovered over the baby's crib, called himself a brute and a beast to mind anything that could make Billy look like that.
CHAPTER XXV. “SHOULD AULD ACQUAINTANCE BE FORGOT”
Bertram did not ask Billy very soon again to go to the theater. For some days, indeed, he did not ask her to do anything. Then, one evening, he did beg for some music.