“Did he?” murmured Billy again. This time there was a little sound after the words, which Aunt Hannah would have taken for a sob if she had not known that it must have been a laugh.
Then Billy was gone.
At eight o'clock the doorbell rang, and a minute later Rosa came up to say that Mr. Bertram Henshaw was down-stairs and wished to see Mrs. Stetson.
Mrs. Stetson went down at once.
“Why, my dear boy,” she exclaimed, as she entered the room; “Billy said you had a banquet on for to-night!”
“Yes, I know; but—I didn't go.” Bertram's face was pale and drawn. His voice did not sound natural.
“Why, Bertram, you look ill! Are you ill?” The man made an impatient gesture.
“No, no, I'm not ill—I'm not ill at all. Rosa says—Billy's not here.”
“No; she's gone to the opera with the Greggorys.”
“The opera!” There was a grieved hurt in Bertram's voice that Aunt Hannah quite misunderstood. She hastened to give an apologetic explanation.