“She is to me, too,” sighed Billy, as she hurried from the room.
Billy was, indeed, in a hurry. To herself she said she wanted to get away—away! And she got away as soon as she could.
She had her plans all made. She would go first to the Greggorys' and invite them to attend the opera with her that evening. Then she would get the tickets. Just what she would do with the rest of the day she did not know. She knew only that she would not go home until time to dress for dinner and the opera. She did not tell Aunt Hannah this, however, when she left the house. She planned to telephone it from somewhere down town, later. She told herself that she could not stay all day under the sharp eyes of Aunt Hannah—but she managed, nevertheless, to bid that lady a particularly blithe and bright-faced good-by.
Billy had not been long gone when the telephone bell rang. Aunt Hannah answered it.
“Why, Bertram, is that you?” she called, in answer to the words that came to her across the wire. “Why, I hardly knew your voice!”
“Didn't you? Well, is—is Billy there?”
“No, she isn't. She's gone down to see Alice Greggory.”
“Oh!” So evident was the disappointment in the voice that Aunt Hannah added hastily:
“I'm so sorry! She hasn't been gone ten minutes. But—is there any message?”
“No, thank you. There's no—message.” The voice hesitated, then went on a little constrainedly. “How—how is Billy this morning? She—she's all right, isn't she?”