Next week my little couple from South Boston
comes. She adores pictures and stuffed animals. You'll have to do the
museums with her. Then there's little crippled Tommy--he'll be perfectly
contented if you'll put him down where he can hear the band play. And
all you'll have to do when that one stops is to pilot him to the next
one. This IS good of you, Bertram, and I do thank you for it," finished
Billy, fervently, just as Marie, the widow, and the "spinster lady"
entered the room.
Billy told herself these days that she was very happy--very happy
indeed. Was she not engaged to a good man, and did she not also have it
in her power to make the long summer days a pleasure to many people?
The fact that she had to tell herself that she was happy in order to
convince herself that she was so, did not occur to Billy--yet.
Not long after Marie arrived, Billy told her of the engagement. William
was at the house very frequently, and owing to the intimacy of Marie's
relationship with the family Billy decided to tell her how matters
stood. Marie's reception of the news was somewhat surprising. First she
looked frightened.
"To William?--you are engaged to William?"
"Why--yes."
"But I thought--surely it was--don't you mean--Mr. Cyril?"
"No, I don't," laughed Billy. "And certainly I ought to know."
"And you don't--care for him?"
"I hope not--if I'm going to marry William.
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