Billy made a sudden movement. The china egg in her lap rolled to the floor.
“Oh, but I don't see him this afternoon,” she said lightly, as she stooped to pick up the egg.
“Why, I'm sure he told me—” Aunt Hannah's sentence ended in a questioning pause.
“Yes, I know,” nodded Billy, brightly; “but he's told me something since. He isn't going. He telephoned me this morning. Miss Winthrop wanted the sitting changed from to-morrow to this afternoon. He said he knew I'd understand.”
“Why, yes; but—” Aunt Hannah did not finish her sentence. The whir of an electric bell had sounded through the house. A few moments later Rosa appeared in the open doorway.
“It's Mr. Arkwright, Miss. He said as how he had brought the music,” she announced.
“Tell him I'll be down at once,” directed the mistress of Hillside.
As the maid disappeared, Billy put aside her work and sprang lightly to her feet.
“Now wasn't that nice of him? We were talking last night about some duets he had, and he said he'd bring them over. I didn't know he'd come so soon, though.”
Billy had almost reached the bottom of the stairway, when a low, familiar strain of music drifted out from the living-room. Billy caught her breath, and held her foot suspended. The next moment the familiar strain of music had become a lullaby—one of Billy's own—and sung now by a melting tenor voice that lingered caressingly and understandingly on every tender cadence.