“But—Billy!—what does this mean?”
Billy sighed heavily.
“Yes, I understand. You'll have to know the rest, of course. I've broken my engagement. I don't want to see Bertram. That's why I'm going away.”
Aunt Hannah fell nervelessly back on the pillow. Her teeth fairly chattered.
“Oh, my grief and conscience—Billy! Won't you please pull up that blanket,” she moaned. “Billy, what do you mean?”
Billy shook her head and got to her feet.
“I can't tell any more now, really, Aunt Hannah. Please don't ask me; and don't—talk. You will—go with me, won't you?” And Aunt Hannah, with her terrified eyes on Billy's piteously agitated face, nodded her head and choked:
“Why, of course I'll go—anywhere—with you, Billy; but—why did you do it, why did you do it?”
A little later, Billy, in her own room, wrote this note to Bertram:
“DEAR BERTRAM:—I'm going away to-day.
That'll be best all around. You'll agree to that,
I'm sure. Please don't try to see me, and please
don't write. It wouldn't make either one of us
any happier. You must know that.
“As ever your friend,
“BILLY.”