Part 12 (2/2)
”There! I feel better,” she sighed, as she took off her hat in her own room; ”and now I'll go find Bertram. Bless his heart--of course he didn't want me to play when he was so busy!”
Billy went straight to the studio, but Bertram was not there. Neither was he in William's room, nor anywhere in the house. Down-stairs in the dining-room Pete was found looking rather white, leaning back in a chair. He struggled at once to his feet, however, as his mistress entered the room.
Billy hurried forward with a startled exclamation.
”Why, Pete, what is it? Are you sick?” she cried, her glance encompa.s.sing the half-set table.
”No, ma'am; oh, no, ma'am!” The old man stumbled forward and began to arrange the knives and forks. ”It's just a pesky pain--beggin' yer pardon--in my side. But I ain't sick. No, Miss--ma'am.”
Billy frowned and shook her head. Her eyes were on Pete's palpably trembling hands.
”But, Pete, you are sick,” she protested. ”Let Eliza do that.”
Pete drew himself stiffly erect. The color had begun to come back to his face.
”There hain't no one set this table much but me for more'n fifty years, an' I've got a sort of notion that n.o.body can do it just ter suit me.
Besides, I'm better now. It's gone--that pain.”
”But, Pete, what is it? How long have you had it?”
”I hain't had it any time, steady. It's the comin' an' goin' kind. It seems silly ter mind it at all; only, when it does come, it sort o'
takes the backbone right out o' my knees, and they double up so's I have ter set down. There, ye see? I'm pert as a sparrer, now!” And, with stiff celerity, Pete resumed his task.
His mistress still frowned.
”That isn't right, Pete,” she demurred, with a slow shake of her head.
”You should see a doctor.”
The old man paled a little. He had seen a doctor, and he had not liked what the doctor had told him. In fact, he stubbornly refused to believe what the doctor had said. He straightened himself now a little aggressively.
”Humph! Beggin' yer pardon, Miss--ma'am, but I don't think much o' them doctor chaps.”
Billy shook her head again as she smiled and turned away. Then, as if casually, she asked:
”Oh, did Mr. Bertram go out, Pete?”
”Yes, Miss; about five o'clock. He said he'd be back to dinner.”
”Oh! All right.”
From the hall the telephone jangled sharply.
”I'll go,” said Pete's mistress, as she turned and hurried up-stairs.
It was Bertram's voice that answered her opening ”Hullo.”
”Oh, Billy, is that you, dear? Well, you're just the one I wanted. I wanted to say--that is, I wanted to ask you--” The speaker cleared his throat a little nervously, and began all over again. ”The fact is, Billy, I've run across a couple of old cla.s.smates on from New York, and they are very anxious I should stay down to dinner with them. Would you mind--very much if I did?”
A cold hand seemed to clutch Billy's heart. She caught her breath with a little gasp and tried to speak; but she had to try twice before the words came.
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