CHAPTER XV. “MR. BILLY” AND “MISS MARY JANE”
On the fourteenth of December Billy came down-stairs alert, interested, and happy. She had received a dear letter from Bertram (mailed on the way to New York), the sun was shining, and her fingers were fairly tingling to put on paper the little melody that was now surging riotously through her brain. Emphatically, the restlessness of the day before was gone now. Once more Billy's “clock” had “begun to tick.”
After breakfast Billy went straight to the telephone and called up Arkwright. Even one side of the conversation Aunt Hannah did not hear very clearly; but in five minutes a radiant-faced Billy danced into the room.
“Aunt Hannah, just listen! Only think—Mary Jane wrote the words himself, so of course I can use them!”
“Billy, dear, can't you say 'Mr. Arkwright'?” pleaded Aunt Hannah.
Billy laughed and gave the anxious-eyed little old lady an impulsive hug.
“Of course! I'll say 'His Majesty' if you like, dear,” she chuckled. “But did you hear—did you realize? They're his own words, so there's no question of rights or permission, or anything. And he's coming up this afternoon to hear my melody, and to make a few little changes in the words, maybe. Oh, Aunt Hannah, you don't know how good it seems to get into my music again!”
“Yes, yes, dear, of course; but—” Aunt Hannah's sentence ended in a vaguely troubled pause.
Billy turned in surprise.