"Nope. Just bored down-town. Felt like bein' cozy and—buzzin' round the lamp in something comfy. Fine! Had a regular banquet! Bill's all right, little devil! I tucked him in so he shouldn't be lonesome.
"Me? I've been out walkin'. Been throwin' snow-balls at the street-lamps. My feet are soakin', but I don't care, I don't care. Heard a concert myself, thanks. Whistles and things tootin' out in the snow on the river to beat the band! Don't think of it! I'm fine. Enjoy yourself. What's life for? Good night, old girl. Don't lose your key!"
Cameron got as far as the cedar chest in the hall, but there, in his wet socks, he sat down and he laughed until he ached all over. Suddenly he stiffened, and his heels banged against the chest.
Miss Merritt, mouth and eyes wide open, stood absorbing him, as crimson as was Cameron himself.
"I heard the 'phone," she faltered. "Miss. Cameron always calls up to know if Billy's all right—"
"I know that she does," said Cameron, stiffly, and, rising, he stocking-footed it past her and shut himself in his bedroom.
"yes, sir; good night, sir." Miss Merritt stared at his door. "Good Lord!" she whispered in the nursery, "how awful for Billy and her if he takes to drink!"
Nellie came out of the telephone booth, her face white with horror.
"Willoughby," she gasped, "get me a taxi quick!"
"Billy—"
"No, no, NO! It's Joe!"