“All right then. Good-by till to-night,” called the man.
“Good-by,” answered Billy, still cheerfully. As she turned away, however, she tossed her head. “A new pose, indeed!” she muttered, with some asperity. “Just as if there could be a new pose after all those she tried last year!”
Immediately after luncheon Pete and Eliza started for South Boston to pay a visit to Eliza's mother, and it was soon after they left the house that Bertram called his wife up again.
“Say, dearie, I forgot to tell you,” he began, “but I met an old friend in the subway this morning, and I—well, I remembered what you said about bringing 'em home to dinner next time, so I asked him for to-night. Do you mind? It's—”
“Mind? Of course not! I'm glad you did,” plunged in Billy, with feverish eagerness. (Even now, just the bare mention of anything connected with that awful “test” night was enough to set Billy's nerves to tingling.) “I want you to always bring them home, Bertram.”
“All right, dear. We'll be there at six o'clock then. It's—it's Calderwell, this time. You remember Calderwell, of course.”
“Not—Hugh Calderwell?” Billy's question was a little faint.
“Sure!” Bertram laughed oddly, and lowered his voice. “I suspect once I wouldn't have brought him home to you. I was too jealous. But now—well, now maybe I want him to see what he's lost.”
“Bertram!”
But Bertram only laughed mischievously, and called a gay “Good-by till to-night, then!”