Billy shook her head again as she smiled and turned away. Then, as if casually, she asked:
“Oh, did Mr. Bertram go out, Pete?”
“Yes, Miss; about five o'clock. He said he'd be back to dinner.”
“Oh! All right.”
From the hall the telephone jangled sharply.
“I'll go,” said Pete's mistress, as she turned and hurried up-stairs.
It was Bertram's voice that answered her opening “Hullo.”
“Oh, Billy, is that you, dear? Well, you're just the one I wanted. I wanted to say—that is, I wanted to ask you—” The speaker cleared his throat a little nervously, and began all over again. “The fact is, Billy, I've run across a couple of old classmates on from New York, and they are very anxious I should stay down to dinner with them. Would you mind—very much if I did?”
A cold hand seemed to clutch Billy's heart. She caught her breath with a little gasp and tried to speak; but she had to try twice before the words came.
“Why, no—no, of course not!” Billy's voice was very high-pitched and a little shaky, but it was surpassingly cheerful.