Lydia looked at Billy's steady gray eyes, and a faint glow of comfort began to surround her heart. Sometimes she felt as if Billy understood her almost as well as John Levine did.
"Now, look here," he said, argumentatively, "you and I had better talk this clothes question out, once and for all."
Lydia giggled. "Billy, you don't know women! It can't be talked out!"
"I know you," replied the young man, stretching out his long legs to the base-burner, and looking at Lydia, "and I want you to stop worrying about your duds. I want you to let me lend you the money to get a complete party outfit with."
"Billy Norton, you know I wouldn't borrow money from a man!" exclaimed
Lydia.
"Well, then, I'll give it to Mother and you borrow it from her."
"Of course, I won't," replied Lydia. "Besides, I've got enough money I earned myself!"
"You have! Then what's all the worry about? How'd you earn it, Lyd?
I thought your father—"
Lydia dug the little pocketbook from under the sofa pillow and spread the money proudly on her shawl. "There it is and it's the root of all my troubles."
Billy looked at her suspiciously. "Young woman, how'd you earn that money?" he demanded.