Miss Billy's Decision

by Eleanor H. Porter

  CHAPTER XXI. A MATTER OF STRAIGHT BUSINESS

  True to her assertion, Billy went down to the Greggorys' the next day.This time she did not take Rosa with her. Even Aunt Hannah conceded thatit would not be necessary. She had not been gone ten minutes, however,when the telephone bell rang, and Rosa came to say that Mr. BertramHenshaw wanted to speak with Mrs. Stetson.

  "Rosa says that Billy's not there," called Bertram's aggrieved voice,when Aunt Hannah had said, "Good morning, my boy."

  "Dear me, no, Bertram. She's in a fever of excitement this morning.She'll probably tell you all about it when you come out here to-night.You _are_ coming out to-night, aren't you?"

  "Yes; oh, yes! But what is it? Where's she gone?"

  Aunt Hannah laughed softly.

  "Well, she's gone down to the Greggorys'."

  "The Greggorys'! What--again?"

  "Oh, you might as well get used to it, Bertram," bantered Aunt Hannah,"for there'll be a good many 'agains,' I fancy."

  "Why, Aunt Hannah, what do you mean?" Bertram's voice was not quitepleased.

  "Oh, she'll tell you. It's only that the Greggorys have turned out to beold friends of Mr. Arkwright's."

  "_Friends_ of Arkwright's!" Bertram's voice was decidedly displeasednow.

  "Yes; and there's quite a story to it all, as well. Billy is wildlyexcited, as you'd know she would be. You'll hear all about it to-night,of course."

  "Yes, of course," echoed Bertram. But there was no ring of enthusiasm inhis voice, neither then, nor when he said good-by a moment later.

  Billy, meanwhile, on her way to the Greggory home, was, as Aunt Hannahhad said, "wildly excited." It seemed so strange and wonderful anddelightful--the whole affair: that she should have found them becauseof a Lowestoft teapot, that Arkwright should know them, and that thereshould be the chance now that she might help them--in some way; thoughthis last, she knew, could be accomplished only through the exercise ofthe greatest tact and delicacy. She had not forgotten that Arkwright hadtold her of their hatred of pity.

  In the sober second thought of the morning, Billy was not sure now of apossible romance in connection with Arkwright and the daughter, Alice;but she had by no means abandoned the idea, and she meant to keepher eyes open--and if there should be a chance to bring such a thingabout--! Meanwhile, of course, she should not mention the matter, evento Bertram.

  Just what would be her method of procedure this first morning, Billy hadnot determined. The pretty potted azalea in her hand would be excuse forher entrance into the room. After that, circumstances must decide forthemselves.

  Mrs. Greggory was found to be alone at home as before, and Billy wasglad. She would rather begin with one than two, she thought. The littlewoman greeted her cordially, gave misty-eyed thanks for the beautifulplant, and also for Billy's kind thoughtfulness Friday afternoon. Fromthat she was very skilfully led to talk more of the daughter; andsoon Billy was getting just the information she wanted--informationconcerning the character, aims, and daily life of Alice Greggory.

  "You see, we have some money--a very little," explained Mrs.Greggory, after a time; "though to get it we have had to sell all ourtreasures--but the Lowestoft," with a quick glance into Billy'seyes. "We need not, perhaps, live in quite so poor a place; but weprefer--just now--to spend the little money we have for somethingother than imitation comfort--lessons, for instance, and an occasionalconcert. My daughter is studying even while she is teaching. She hopesto train herself for an accompanist, and for a teacher. She does notaspire to concert solo work. She understands her limitations."

  "But she is probably--very good--at teaching." Billy hesitated a little.

  "She is; very good. She has the best of recommendations." A littleproudly Mrs. Greggory gave the names of two Boston pianists--names thatwould carry weight anywhere.

  Unconsciously Billy relaxed. She did not know until that moment howshe had worried for fear she could not, conscientiously, recommend thisAlice Greggory.

  "Of course," resumed the mother, "Alice's pupils are few, and they paylow prices; but she is gaining. She goes to the houses, of course. Sheherself practises two hours a day at a house up on Pinckney Street. Shegives lessons to a little girl in return."

  "I see," nodded Billy, brightly; "and I've been thinking, Mrs.Greggory--maybe I know of some pupils she could get. I have a friend whohas just given hers up, owing to her marriage. Sometime, soon, I'm goingto talk to your daughter, if I may, and--"

  "And here she is right now," interposed Mrs. Greggory, as the dooropened under a hurried hand.

  Billy flushed and bit her lip. She was disturbed and disappointed. Shedid not particularly wish to see Alice Greggory just then. She wishedeven less to see her when she noted the swift change that came to thegirl's face at sight of herself.

  "Oh! Why-good morning, Miss Neilson," murmured Miss Greggory with asmile so forced that her mother hurriedly looked to the azalea in searchof a possible peacemaker.

  "My dear, see," she stammered, "what Miss Neilson has brought me. Andit's so full of blossoms, too! And she says it'll remain so for a long,long time--if we'll only keep it wet."

  Alice Greggory murmured a low something--a something that she tried,evidently, very hard to make politely appropriate and appreciative. Yether manner, as she took off her hat and coat and sat down, so plainlysaid: "You are very kind, of course, but I wish you would keep yourselfand your plants at home!" that Mrs. Greggory began a hurried apology,much as if the words had indeed been spoken.

  "My daughter is really ill this morning. You mustn't mind--that is, I'mafraid you'll think--you see, she took cold last week; a bad cold--andshe isn't over it, yet," finished the little woman in painfulembarrassment.

  "Of course she took cold--standing all those hours in that horrid wind,Friday!" cried Billy, indignantly.

  A quick red flew to Alice Greggory's face. Billy saw it at once andfervently wished she had spoken of anything but that Friday afternoon.It looked almost as if she were _reminding_ them of what she haddone that day. In her confusion, and in her anxiety to saysomething--anything that would get their minds off that idea--sheuttered now the first words that came into her head. As it happened,they were the last words that sober second thought would have told herto say.

  "Never mind, Mrs. Greggory. We'll have her all well and strong soon;never fear! Just wait till I send Peggy and Mary Jane to take her outfor a drive one of these mild, sunny days. You have no idea how muchgood it will do her!"

  Alice Greggory got suddenly to her feet. Her face was very white now.Her eyes had the steely coldness that Billy knew so well. Her voice,when she spoke, was low and sternly controlled.

  "Miss Neilson, you will think me rude, of course, especially after yourgreat kindness to me the other day; but I can't help it. It seems to mebest to speak now before it goes any further."

  "Alice, dear," remonstrated Mrs. Greggory, extending a frightened hand.

  The girl did not turn her head nor hesitate; but she caught the extendedhand and held it warmly in both her own, with gentle little pats, whileshe went on speaking.

  "I'm sure mother agrees with me that it is best, for the present, thatwe keep quite to ourselves. I cannot question your kindness, of course,after your somewhat unusual favor the other day; but I am very sure thatyour friends, Miss Peggy, and Miss Mary Jane, have no real desireto make my acquaintance, nor--if you'll pardon me--have I, under thecircumstances, any wish to make theirs."

  "Oh, Alice, Alice," began the little mother, in dismay; but a ripplinglaugh from their visitor brought an angry flush even to her gentle face.

  Billy understood the flush, and struggled for self-control.

  "Please--please, forgive me!" she choked. "But you see--you couldn't, ofcourse, know that Mary Jane and Peggy aren't _girls_. They're just a manand an automobile!"

  An unwilling smile trembled on Alice Greggory's lips; but she stillstood her ground.

  "After all, girls, or men and automobiles, Miss Neilson--it makes littledifference. They're
--charity. And it's not so long that we've beenobjects of charity that we quite really enjoy it--yet."

  There was a moment's hush. Billy's eyes had filled with tears.

  "I never even _thought_--charity," said Billy, so gently that a faintred stole into the white cheeks opposite.

  For a tense minute Alice Greggory held herself erect; then, with acomplete change of manner and voice, she released her mother's hand,dropped into her own chair again, and said wearily:

  "I know you didn't, Miss Neilson. It's all my foolish pride, of course.It's only that I was thinking how dearly I would love to meet girlsagain--just as _girls!_ But--I no longer have any business with pride,of course. I shall be pleased, I'm sure," she went on dully, "to acceptanything you may do for us, from automobile rides to--to red flannelpetticoats."

  Billy almost--but not quite--laughed. Still, the laugh would have beennear to a sob, had it been given. Surprising as was the quick transitionin the girl's manner, and absurd as was the juxtaposition of automobilesand red flannel petticoats, the white misery of Alice Greggory's faceand the weary despair of her attitude were tragic--specially to one whoknew her story as did Billy Neilson. And it was because Billy didknow her story that she did not make the mistake now of offering pity.Instead, she said with a bright smile, and a casual manner that gave nohint of studied labor:

  "Well, as it happens, Miss Greggory, what I want to-day has nothingwhatever to do with automobiles or red flannel petticoats. It's amatter of straight business." (How Billy blessed the thought that hadso suddenly come to her!) "Your mother tells me you play accompaniments.Now a girls' club, of which I am a member, is getting up an operetta forcharity, and we need an accompanist. There is no one in the club whois able, and at the same time willing, to spend the amount of timenecessary for practice and rehearsals. So we had decided to hire oneoutside, and I have been given the task of finding one. It has occurredto me that perhaps you would be willing to undertake it for us. Wouldyou?"

  Billy knew, at once, from the quick change in the other's face andmanner, that she had taken exactly the right course to relieve thestrain of the situation. Despair and lassitude fell away from AliceGreggory almost like a garment. Her countenance became alert andinterested.

  "Indeed I would! I should be glad to do it."

  "Good! Then can you come out to my home sometime to-morrow, and go overthe music with me? Rehearsals will not begin until next week; but I cangive you the music, and tell you something of what we are planning todo."

  "Yes. I could come at ten in the morning for an hour, or at three inthe afternoon for two hours or more," replied Miss Greggory, after amoment's hesitation.

  "Suppose we call it in the afternoon, then," smiled Billy, as she roseto her feet. "And now I must go--and here's my address," she finished,taking out her card and laying it on the table near her.

  For reasons of her own Billy went away that morning without sayinganything more about the proposed new pupils. New pupils were notautomobile rides nor petticoats, to be sure--but she did not care torisk disturbing the present interested happiness of Alice Greggory'sface by mentioning anything that might be construed as too officious anassistance.

  On the whole, Billy felt well pleased with her morning's work. To AuntHannah, upon her return, she expressed herself thus:

  "It's splendid--even better than I hoped. I shall have a chanceto-morrow, of course, to see for myself just how well she plays, and allthat. I'm pretty sure, though, from what I hear, that that part will beall right. Then the operetta will give us a chance to see a good deal ofher, and to bring about a natural meeting between her and Mary Jane. Oh,Aunt Hannah, I couldn't have _planned_ it better--and there the wholething just tumbled into my hands! I knew it had the minute I rememberedabout the operetta. You know I'm chairman, and they left me to get theaccompanist; and like a flash it came to me, when I was wondering _what_to say or do to get her out of that awful state she was in--'Ask her tobe your accompanist.' And I did. And I'm so glad I did! Oh, Aunt Hannah,it's coming out lovely!--I know it is."