CHAPTER XXXII. PETE TO THE RESCUE
One by one the weeks passed and became a month. Then other weeks becameother months. It was July when Billy, homesick and weary, came back toHillside with Aunt Hannah.
Home looked wonderfully good to Billy, in spite of the fact that she hadso dreaded to see it. Billy had made up her mind, however, that, comesometime she must. She could not, of course, stay always away. Perhaps,too, it would be just as easy at home as it was away. Certainly it couldnot be any harder. She was convinced of that. Besides, she did not wantBertram to think--
Billy had received only meagre news from Boston since she went away.Bertram had not written at all. William had written twice--hurt,grieved, puzzled, questioning letters that were very hard to answer.From Marie, too, had come letters of much the same sort. By far thecheeriest epistles had come from Alice Greggory. They contained, indeed,about the only comfort Billy had known for weeks, for they showed veryplainly to Billy that Arkwright's heart had been caught on the rebound;and that in Alice Greggory he was finding the sweetest sort of balm forhis wounded feelings. From these letters Billy learned, too, that JudgeGreggory's honor had been wholly vindicated; and, as Billy told AuntHannah, "anybody could put two and two together and make four, now."
It was eight o'clock on a rainy July evening that Billy and Aunt Hannaharrived at Hillside; and it was only a little past eight that AuntHannah was summoned to the telephone. When she came back to Billy shewas crying and wringing her hands.
Billy sprang to her feet.
"Why, Aunt Hannah, what is it? What's the matter?" she demanded.
Aunt Hannah sank into a chair, still wringing her hands.
"Oh, Billy, Billy, how can I tell you, how can I tell you?" she moaned.
"You must tell me! Aunt Hannah, what is it?"
"Oh--oh--oh! Billy, I can't--I can't!"
"But you'll have to! What is it, Aunt Hannah?"
"It's--B-Bertram!"
"Bertram!" Billy's face grew ashen. "Quick, quick--what do you mean?"
For answer, Aunt Hannah covered her face with her hands and began to sobaloud. Billy, almost beside herself now with terror and anxiety, droppedon her knees and tried to pull away the shaking hands.
"Aunt Hannah, you must tell me! You must--you must!"
"I can't, Billy. It's Bertram. He's--_hurt!_" choked Aunt Hannah,hysterically.
"Hurt! How?"
"I don't know. Pete told me."
"Pete!"
"Yes. Rosa had told him we were coming, and he called me up. He saidmaybe I could do something. So he told me."
"Yes, yes! But told you what?"
"That he was hurt."
"How?"
"I couldn't hear all, but I think 'twas an accident--automobile. And,Billy, Billy--Pete says it's his arm--his right arm--and that maybe hecan't ever p-paint again!"
"Oh-h!" Billy fell back as if the words had been a blow. "Not that, AuntHannah--not that!"
"That's what Pete said. I couldn't get all of it, but I got that.And, Billy, he's been out of his head--though he isn't now, Petesays--and--and--and he's been calling for you."
"For--_me?_" A swift change came to Billy's face.
"Yes. Over and over again he called for you--while he was crazy, youknow. That's why Pete told me. He said he didn't rightly understand whatthe trouble was, but he didn't believe there was any trouble, _really_,between you two; anyway, that you wouldn't think there was, if you couldhear him, and know how he wanted you, and--why, Billy!"
Billy was on her feet now. Her fingers were on the electric push-buttonthat would summon Rosa. Her face was illumined. The next moment Rosaappeared.
"Tell John to bring Peggy to the door at once, please," directed hermistress.
"Billy!" gasped Aunt Hannah again, as the maid disappeared. Billy wastremblingly putting on the hat she had but just taken off. "Billy, whatare you going to do?"
Billy turned in obvious surprise.
"Why, I'm going to Bertram, of course."
"To Bertram! But it's nearly half-past eight, child, and it rains, andeverything!"
"But Bertram _wants_ me!" exclaimed Billy. "As if I'd mind rain, ortime, or anything else, _now!_"
"But--but--oh, my grief and conscience!" groaned Aunt Hannah, beginningto wring her hands again.
Billy reached for her coat. Aunt Hannah stirred into sudden action.
"But, Billy, if you'd only wait till to-morrow," she quavered, puttingout a feebly restraining hand.
"To-morrow!" The young voice rang with supreme scorn. "Do you think I'dwait till to-morrow--after all this? I say Bertram _wants_ me." Billypicked up her gloves.
"But you broke it off, dear--you said you did; and to go down thereto-night--like this--"
Billy lifted her head. Her eyes shone. Her whole face was a glory oflove and pride.
"That was before. I didn't know. He _wants_ me, Aunt Hannah. Didyou hear? He _wants_ me! And now I won't even--hinder him, if hecan't--p-paint again!" Billy's voice broke. The glory left her face. Hereyes brimmed with tears, but her head was still bravely uplifted. "I'mgoing to Bertram!"
Blindly Aunt Hannah got to her feet. Still more blindly she reached forher bonnet and cloak on the chair near her.
"Oh, will you go, too?" asked Billy, abstractedly, hurrying to thewindow to look for the motor car.
"Will I go, too!" burst out Aunt Hannah's indignant voice. "Do you thinkI'd let you go alone, and at this time of night, on such a wild-goosechase as this?"
"I don't know, I'm sure," murmured Billy, still abstractedly, peeringout into the rain.
"Don't know, indeed! Oh, my grief and conscience!" groaned Aunt Hannah,setting her bonnet hopelessly askew on top of her agitated head.
But Billy did not even answer now. Her face was pressed hard against thewindow-pane.