“But Billy's coming back!”
“Of course she's coming back,” laughed Aunt Hannah, “but not this winter, certainly. Why, William, what's the matter? I'm sure, I think it's a beautiful arrangement. Why, don't you remember? It's just what we said we wanted—to keep Billy away for awhile. And the best part of it is, it's her own idea from the start.”
“Yes, I know, I know,” frowned William: “but I'm not sure, after all, that that idea of ours wasn't a mistake,—a mistake that she needed to get away.”
“Never! We were just right about it,” declared Aunt Hannah, with conviction.
“And is Billy—happy?”
“She seems to be.”
“Hm-m; well, THAT'S good,” said William, as he turned to go up to his room. But as he climbed the stairs he sighed; and to hear him, one would have thought it anything but good to him—that Billy was happy.
One by one the weeks passed. Mrs. Stetson had long since gone back to Hampden Falls; and Bertram said that the Strata was beginning to look natural again. There remained now, indeed, only Spunkie, the small gray cat, to remind any one of the days that were gone—though, to be sure, there were Billy's letters, if they might be called a reminder.
Billy did not write often. She said that she was “too busy to breathe.” Such letters as did come from her were addressed to William, though they soon came to be claimed by the entire family. Bertram and Cyril frankly demanded that William read them aloud; and even Pete always contrived to have some dusting or “puttering” within earshot—a subterfuge quite well understood, but never reproved by any of the brothers.
When the Christmas vacation drew near, William wrote that he hoped Billy and Aunt Hannah would spend it with them; but Billy answered that although she appreciated their kindness and thanked them for it, yet she must decline their invitation, as she had already invited several of the girls to go home with her to Hampden Falls for a country Christmas.