“Bless your dear heart! Aunt Hannah would call for a dozen shawls in that place—if she had breath enough to call for any after she got to the top of those four flights!”
“Yes, I suppose so,” rejoined Bertram, with an unwilling smile. “Still—well, you can take Rosa,” he concluded decisively.
“How Miss Alice would like that—to catch me going 'slumming' with my maid!” cried Billy, righteous indignation in her voice. “Honestly, Bertram, I think even gentle Mrs. Greggory wouldn't stand for that.”
“Then leave Rosa outside in the hall,” planned Bertram, promptly; and after a few more arguments, Billy finally agreed to this.
It was with Rosa, therefore, that she set out the next morning for the little room up four flights on the narrow West End street.
Leaving the maid on the top stair of the fourth flight, Billy tapped at Mrs. Greggory's door. To her joy Mrs. Greggory herself answered the knock.
“Oh! Why—why, good morning,” murmured the lady, in evident embarrassment. “Won't you—come m?”
“Thank you. May I?—just a minute?” smiled Billy, brightly.
As she entered the room, Billy threw a hasty look about her. There was no one but themselves present. With a sigh of satisfaction, therefore, the girl took the chair Mrs. Greggory offered, and began to speak.
“I was down this way—that is, I came this way this morning,” she began a little hastily; “and I wanted just to come up and tell you how sorry I was about—about that teapot the other day. We didn't want it, of course—if you didn't want us to have it.”