Bertram raised his eyebrows quizzically.
“Very kind, of course; but—why ice cream?” he questioned. “I thought it was roast beef and boiled potatoes that was supposed to be handed out to gaunt-eyed hunger.”
“It is,” nodded Billy, “and that's why I think sometimes they'd like ice cream and chocolate frosting. Besides, to give sugar plums one doesn't have to unwind yards of red tape, or worry about 'pauperizing the poor.' To give red flannels and a ton of coal, one must be properly circumspect and consult records and city missionaries, of course; and that's why it's such a relief sometimes just to hand over a simple little sugar plum and see them smile.”
For a minute Bertram was silent, then he asked abruptly:
“Billy, why did you leave the Strata?”
Billy was taken quite by surprise. A pink flush spread to her forehead, and her tongue stumbled at first over her reply.
“Why, I—it seemed—you—why, I left to go to Hampden Falls, to be sure. Don't you remember?” she finished gaily.
“Oh, yes, I remember THAT,” conceded Bertram with disdainful emphasis. “But why did you go to Hampden Falls?”
“Why, it—it was the only place to go—that is, I WANTED to go there,” she corrected hastily. “Didn't Aunt Hannah tell you that I—I was homesick to get back there?”
“Oh, yes, Aunt Hannah SAID that,” observed the man; “but wasn't that homesickness a little—sudden?”