CHAPTER III. BILLY AND BERTRAM
Bertram called that evening. Before the open fire in the living-room hefound a pensive Billy awaiting him--a Billy who let herself be kissed,it is true, and who even kissed back, shyly, adorably; but a Billy wholooked at him with wide, almost frightened eyes.
"Why, darling, what's the matter?" he demanded, his own eyes growingwide and frightened.
"Bertram, it's--done!"
"What's done? What do you mean?"
"Our engagement. It's--announced. I wrote stacks of notes to-day,and even now there are some left for to-morrow. And then there's--thenewspapers. Bertram, right away, now, _everybody_ will know it." Hervoice was tragic.
Bertram relaxed visibly. A tender light came to his eyes.
"Well, didn't you expect everybody would know it, my dear?"
"Y-yes; but--"
At her hesitation, the tender light changed to a quick fear.
"Billy, you aren't--sorry?"
The pink glory that suffused her face answered him before her words did.
"Sorry! Oh, never, Bertram! It's only that it won't be ours anylonger--that is, it won't belong to just our two selves. Everybody willknow it. And they'll bow and smile and say 'How lovely!' to our faces,and 'Did you ever?' to our backs. Oh, no, I'm not sorry, Bertram; but Iam--afraid."
"_Afraid_--Billy!"
"Yes."
Billy sighed, and gazed with pensive eyes into the fire.
Across Bertram's face swept surprise, consternation, and dismay. Bertramhad thought he knew Billy in all her moods and fancies; but he did notknow her in this one.
"Why, Billy!" he breathed.
Billy drew another sigh. It seemed to come from the very bottoms of hersmall, satin-slippered feet.
"Well, I am. You're _the_ Bertram Henshaw. You know lots and lots ofpeople that I never even saw. And they'll come and stand around andstare and lift their lorgnettes and say: 'Is that the one? Dear me!'"
Bertram gave a relieved laugh.
"Nonsense, sweetheart! I should think you were a picture I'd painted andhung on a wall."
"I shall feel as if I were--with all those friends of yours. Bertram,what if they don't like it?" Her voice had grown tragic again.
"_Like_ it!"
"Yes. The picture--me, I mean."
"They can't help liking it," he retorted, with the prompt certainty ofan adoring lover.
Billy shook her head. Her eyes had gone back to the fire.
"Oh, yes, they can. I can hear them. 'What, _she_--Bertram Henshaw'swife?--a frivolous, inconsequential "Billy" like that?' Bertram!"--Billyturned fiercely despairing eyes on her lover--"Bertram, sometimes Iwish my name were 'Clarissa Cordelia,' or 'Arabella Maud,' or 'HannahJane'--anything that's feminine and proper!"
Bertram's ringing laugh brought a faint smile to Billy's lips. But thewords that followed the laugh, and the caressing touch of the man'shands sent a flood of shy color to her face.
"'Hannah Jane,' indeed! As if I'd exchange my Billy for her or anyClarissa or Arabella that ever grew! I adore Billy--flame, nature,and--"
"And naughtiness?" put in Billy herself.
"Yes--if there be any," laughed Bertram, fondly. "But, see," he added,taking a tiny box from his pocket, "see what I've brought for this sameBilly to wear. She'd have had it long ago if she hadn't insisted onwaiting for this announcement business."
"Oh, Bertram, what a beauty!" dimpled Billy, as the flawless diamond inBertram's fingers caught the light and sent it back in a flash of flameand crimson.
"Now you are mine--really mine, sweetheart!" The man's voice and handshook as he slipped the ring on Billy's outstretched finger.
Billy caught her breath with almost a sob.
"And I'm so glad to be--yours, dear," she murmured brokenly. "And--andI'll make you proud that I am yours, even if I am just 'Billy,'" shechoked. "Oh, I know I'll write such beautiful, beautiful songs now."
The man drew her into a close embrace.
"As if I cared for that," he scoffed lovingly.
Billy looked up in quick horror.
"Why, Bertram, you don't mean you don't--care?"
He laughed lightly, and took the dismayed little face between his twohands.
"Care, darling? of course I care! You know how I love your music. Icare about everything that concerns you. I meant that I'm proud of you_now_--just you. I love _you_, you know."
There was a moment's pause. Billy's eyes, as they looked at him, carrieda curious intentness in their dark depths.
"You mean, you like--the turn of my head and the tilt of my chin?" sheasked a little breathlessly.
"I adore them!" came the prompt answer.
To Bertram's utter amazement, Billy drew back with a sharp cry.
"No, no--not that!"
"Why, _Billy!_"
Billy laughed unexpectedly; then she sighed.
"Oh, it's all right, of course," she assured him hastily. "It's only--"Billy stopped and blushed. Billy was thinking of what Hugh Calderwellhad once said to her: that Bertram Henshaw would never love any girlseriously; that it would always be the turn of her head or the tilt ofher chin that he loved--to paint.
"Well; only what?" demanded Bertram.
Billy blushed the more deeply, but she gave a light laugh.
"Nothing, only something Hugh Calderwell said to me once. You see,Bertram, I don't think Hugh ever thought you would--marry."
"Oh, didn't he?" bridled Bertram. "Well, that only goes to show how muchhe knows about it. Er--did you announce it--to him?" Bertram's voice wasalmost savage now.
Billy smiled.
"No; but I did to his sister, and she'll tell him. Oh, Bertram, such atime as I had over those notes," went on Billy, with a chuckle. Hereyes were dancing, and she was seeming more like her usual self, Bertramthought. "You see there were such a lot of things I wanted to say, aboutwhat a dear you were, and how much I--I liked you, and that you had suchlovely eyes, and a nose--"
"Billy!" This time it was Bertram who was sitting erect in pale horror.
Billy threw him a roguish glance.
"Goosey! You are as bad as Aunt Hannah! I said that was what I _wanted_to say. What I really said was--quite another matter," she finished witha saucy uptilting of her chin.
Bertram relaxed with a laugh.
"You witch!" His admiring eyes still lingered on her face. "Billy, I'mgoing to paint you sometime in just that pose. You're adorable!"
"Pooh! Just another face of a girl," teased the adorable one.
Bertram gave a sudden exclamation.
"There! And I haven't told you, yet. Guess what my next commission is."
"To paint a portrait?"
"Yes."
"Can't. Who is it?"
"J. G. Winthrop's daughter."
"Not _the_ J. G. Winthrop?"
"The same."
"Oh, Bertram, how splendid!"
"Isn't it? And then the girl herself! Have you seen her? But youhaven't, I know, unless you met her abroad. She hasn't been in Bostonfor years until now."
"No, I haven't seen her. Is she so _very_ beautiful?" Billy spoke alittle soberly.
"Yes--and no." The artist lifted his head alertly. What Billy calledhis "painting look" came to his face. "It isn't that her features are soregular--though her mouth and chin are perfect. But her face has so muchcharacter, and there's an elusive something about her eyes--Jove! IfI can only catch it, it'll be the best thing yet that I've ever done,Billy."
"Will it? I'm so glad--and you'll get it, I know you will," claimedBilly, clearing her throat a little nervously.
"I wish I felt so sure," sighed Bertram. "But it'll be a great thing ifI do get it--J. G. Winthrop's daughter, you know, besides the merit ofthe likeness itself."
"Yes; yes, indeed!" Billy cleared her throat again. "You've seen her, ofcourse, lately?"
"Oh, yes. I was there half the morning discussing the details--sittingsand costume, and deciding on the pose."
"Did you find one--to su
it?"
"Find one!" The artist made a despairing gesture. "I found a dozen thatI wanted. The trouble was to tell which I wanted the most."
Billy gave a nervous little laugh.
"Isn't that--unusual?" she asked.
Bertram lifted his eyebrows with a quizzical smile.
"Well, they aren't all Marguerite Winthrops," he reminded her.
"Marguerite!" cried Billy. "Oh, is her name Marguerite? I do thinkMarguerite is the dearest name!" Billy's eyes and voice were wistful.
"I don't--not the _dearest_. Oh, it's all well enough, of course, but itcan't be compared for a moment to--well, say, 'Billy'!"
Billy smiled, but she shook her head.
"I'm afraid you're not a good judge of names," she objected.
"Yes, I am; though, for that matter, I should love your name, no matterwhat it was."
"Even if 'twas 'Mary Jane,' eh?" bantered Billy. "Well, you'll have achance to find out how you like that name pretty quick, sir. We're goingto have one here."
"You're going to have a Mary Jane here? Do you mean that Rosa's goingaway?"
"Mercy! I hope not," shuddered Billy. "You don't find a Rosa in everykitchen--and never in employment agencies! My Mary Jane is a niece ofAunt Hannah's,--or rather, a cousin. She's coming to Boston to studymusic, and I've invited her here. We've asked her for a month, though Ipresume we shall keep her right along."
Bertram frowned.
"Well, of course, that's very nice for--_Mary Jane_," he sighed withmeaning emphasis.
Billy laughed.
"Don't worry, dear. She won't bother us any."
"Oh, yes, she will," sighed Bertram. "She'll be 'round--lots; you seeif she isn't. Billy, I think sometimes you're almost too kind--to otherfolks."
"Never!" laughed Billy. "Besides, what would you have me do when alonesome young girl was coming to Boston? Anyhow, _you're_ not the oneto talk, young man. I've known _you_ to take in a lonesome girl and giveher a home," she flashed merrily.
Bertram chuckled.
"Jove! What a time that was!" he exclaimed, regarding his companion withfond eyes. "And Spunk, too! Is she going to bring a Spunk?"
"Not that I've heard," smiled Billy; "but she _is_ going to wear apink."
"Not really, Billy?"
"Of course she is! I told her to. How do you suppose we could know herwhen we saw her, if she didn't?" demanded the girl, indignantly. "Andwhat is more, sir, there will be _two_ pinks worn this time. _I_ sha'n'tdo as Uncle William did, and leave off my pink. Only think what longminutes--that seemed hours of misery--I spent waiting there in thattrain-shed, just because I didn't know which man was my Uncle William!"
Bertram laughed and shrugged his shoulders.
"Well, your Mary Jane won't probably turn out to be quite such abombshell as our Billy did--unless she should prove to be a boy," headded whimsically. "Oh, but Billy, she _can't_ turn out to be such adear treasure," finished the man. And at the adoring look in his eyesBilly blushed deeply--and promptly forgot all about Mary Jane and herpink.