That night after dinner Billie broke the news to her father, and her heart sank as she saw the harassed look that came into his eyes.
"You say it cost a hundred dollars?" he queried, breaking a silence during which Billie had felt like a criminal awaiting sentence. Now she nodded unhappily.
"A hundred dollars," her father repeated. "Well, that's a lot to pay, Beatrice, for just a few minutes' reckless fun. Of course I can pay it, but that will mean putting off some affairs of more pressing importance—"
But Billie could stand it no longer, and with a little cry she flew to him and pressed her soft cheek against his.
"Daddy, I'm a brute to worry you like this!" she cried, penitently. "Please don't worry any more, dear. I'll find some way to replace the old thing myself."
Her father patted her cheek, but the worried frown still remained on his face. Billie started to leave the room but turned before she had reached the door.
"Dad," she said hesitatingly, and he turned to her with a smile. "About Uncle Bill," she said. "He has always given me anything I wanted. Do you suppose he would help?"
"He is out of the country—gone on a business trip that has taken him on an ocean voyage," said her father. "He will be gone for an indefinite period. I thought you knew, Billie. Though, as he just left, I suppose it is not strange you had not heard us speak of it." And with that Mr. Bradley relapsed immediately into his brown study.
Billie opened the door and closed it softly behind her.
"My last hope!" she sighed plaintively. "Now what shall I do?"