“Thank you. I knew you wouldn't,” sighed Bertram. Then the door shut.
For a long minute Billy stood motionless before she glanced at her watch and sped to the telephone.
“Is Miss Greggory there, Rosa?” she called when the operator's ring was answered.
“Mis' Greggory, the lame one?”
“No; Miss Greggory—Miss Alice.”
“Oh! Yes'm.”
“Then won't you ask her to come to the telephone, please.”
There was a moment's wait, during which Billy's small, well-shod foot beat a nervous tattoo on the floor.
“Oh, is that you, Alice?” she called then. “Are you going to be home for an hour or two?”
“Why, y-yes; yes, indeed.”