There was a boy, you know, that died."
"Yes, I know," nodded Billy, quick tears in her eyes. "Aunt Hannah told
me."
"Well, that counts out William, then," said Calderwell, with an air of
finality.
"But how about Bertram? You haven't settled Bertram," laughed Billy,
archly.
"Bertram!" Calderwell's eyes widened. "Billy, can you imagine Bertram's
making love in real earnest to a girl?"
"Why, I--don't--know; maybe!" Billy tipped her head from side to side as
if she were viewing a picture set up for her inspection.
"Well, I can't. In the first place, no girl would think he was serious;
or if by any chance she did, she'd soon discover that it was the turn
of her head or the tilt of her chin that he admired--TO PAINT. Now isn't
that so?"
Billy laughed, but she did not answer.
"It is, and you know it," declared Calderwell. "And that settles him.
Now you can see, perhaps, why none of these men--will marry."
It was a long minute before Billy spoke.
"Not a bit of it. I don't see it at all," she declared with roguish
merriment. "Moreover, I think that some day, some one of them--will
marry, Sir Doubtful!"
Calderwell threw a quick glance into her eyes. Evidently something he
saw there sent a swift shadow to his own. He waited a moment, then asked
abruptly:
"Billy, WON'T you marry me?"
Billy frowned, though her eyes still laughed.
Pages:
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132