“Mrs. Hartwell, certainly no one could know better than YOURSELF why that is quite impossible,” she frowned.
The other colored confusedly.
“I understand, of course, what you mean. And, Billy, I'll confess that I've been sorry lots of times, since, that I spoke as I did to you, particularly when I saw how it grieved my brother William to have you go away. If I blundered then, I'm sorry; and perhaps I did blunder. At all events, that is only the more reason now why I am so anxious to do what I can to rectify that old mistake, and plead William's suit.”
To Mrs. Hartwell's blank amazement, Billy laughed outright.
“'William's suit'!” she quoted merrily. “Why, Mrs. Hartwell, there isn't any 'suit' to it. Uncle William doesn't want me to marry him!”
“Indeed he does.”
Billy stopped laughing, and sat suddenly erect.
“MRS. HARTWELL!”
“Billy, is it possible that you did not know this?”
“Indeed I don't know it, and—excuse me, but I don't think you do, either.”