Billy's face changed color. Mrs. Hartwell gave a despairing gesture.
“Kate, my dear, I told you to be sure and remember that it was your Uncle Bertram now. You see,” she added in a discouraged aside to Billy, “she can't seem to forget the first one. But then, what can you expect?” laughed Mrs. Hartwell, a little disagreeably. “Such abrupt changes from one brother to another are somewhat disconcerting, you know.”
Billy bit her lip. For a moment she said nothing, then, a little constrainedly, she rejoined:
“Perhaps. Still—let us hope we have the right one, now.”
Mrs. Hartwell raised her eyebrows.
“Well, my dear, I'm not so confident of that. My choice has been and always will be—William.”
Billy bit her lip again. This time her brown eyes flashed a little.
“Is that so? But you see, after all, you aren't making the—the choice.” Billy spoke lightly, gayly; and she ended with a bright little laugh, as if to hide any intended impertinence.
It was Mrs. Hartwell's turn to bite her lip—and she did it.
“So it seems,” she rejoined frigidly, after the briefest of pauses.