“Don't know, indeed! Oh, my grief and conscience!” groaned Aunt Hannah, setting her bonnet hopelessly askew on top of her agitated head.
But Billy did not even answer now. Her face was pressed hard against the window-pane.
CHAPTER XXXIII. BERTRAM TAKES THE REINS
With stiffly pompous dignity Pete opened the door. The next moment he fell back in amazement before the impetuous rush of a starry-eyed, flushed-cheeked young woman who demanded:
“Where is he, Pete?”
“Miss Billy!” gasped the old man. Then he saw Aunt Hannah—Aunt Hannah with her bonnet askew, her neck-bow awry, one hand bare, and the other half covered with a glove wrong side out. Aunt Hannah's cheeks, too, were flushed, and her eyes starry, but with dismay and anger—the last because she did not like the way Pete had said Miss Billy's name. It was one matter for her to object to this thing Billy was doing—but quite another for Pete to do it.
“Of course it's she!” retorted Aunt Hannah, testily. “As if you yourself didn't bring her here with your crazy messages at this time of night!”
“Pete, where is he?” interposed Billy. “Tell Mr. Bertram I am here—or, wait! I'll go right in and surprise him.”
“Billy!” This time it was Aunt Hannah who gasped her name.