“You looked it,” twinkled Billy. “It was worth a farm just to see your face!”
“I'd want the farm—if I was going through that again,” retorted the man, grimly—Bertram was still seeing that newspaper heading.
But Billy only laughed again.
CHAPTER XX. ARKWRIGHT TELLS A STORY
Arkwright called Monday afternoon by appointment; and together he and Billy put the finishing touches to the new song.
It was when, with Aunt Hannah, they were having tea before the fire a little later, that Billy told of her adventure the preceding Friday afternoon in front of Symphony Hall.
“You knew the girl, of course—I think you said you knew the girl,” ventured Arkwright.
“Oh, yes. She was Alice Greggory. I met her with Uncle William first, over a Lowestoft teapot. Maybe you'd like to know how I met her,” smiled Billy.
“Alice Greggory?” Arkwright's eyes showed a sudden interest. “I used to know an Alice Greggory, but it isn't the same one, probably. Her mother was a cripple.”