Miss Billy's Decision by Eleanor H. Porter

  CHAPTER XII. SISTER KATE

  At the station Mrs. Hartwell's train was found to be gratifyingly ontime; and in due course Billy was extending a cordial welcome to a tall,handsome woman who carried herself with an unmistakable air of assuredcompetence. Accompanying her was a little girl with big blue eyes andyellow curls.

  "I am very glad to see you both," smiled Billy, holding out a friendlyhand to Mrs. Hartwell, and stooping to kiss the round cheek of thelittle girl.

  "Thank you, you are very kind," murmured the lady; "but--are you alone,Billy? Where are the boys?"

  "Uncle William is out of town, and Cyril is rushed to death and sent hisexcuses. Bertram did mean to come, but he telephoned this morning thathe couldn't, after all. I'm sorry, but I'm afraid you'll have to makethe best of just me," condoled Billy. "They'll be out to the housethis evening, of course--all but Uncle William. He doesn't return untilto-morrow."

  "Oh, doesn't he?" murmured the lady, reaching for her daughter's hand.

  Billy looked down with a smile.

  "And this is little Kate, I suppose," she said, "whom I haven't seen forsuch a long, long time. Let me see, you are how old now?"

  "I'm eight. I've been eight six weeks."

  Billy's eyes twinkled.

  "And you don't remember me, I suppose."

  The little girl shook her head.

  "No; but I know who you are," she added, with shy eagerness. "You'regoing to be my Aunt Billy, and you're going to marry my Uncle William--Imean, my Uncle Bertram."

  Billy's face changed color. Mrs. Hartwell gave a despairing gesture.

  "Kate, my dear, I told you to be sure and remember that it was yourUncle Bertram now. You see," she added in a discouraged aside to Billy,"she can't seem to forget the first one. But then, what can you expect?"laughed Mrs. Hartwell, a little disagreeably. "Such abrupt changes fromone brother to another are somewhat disconcerting, you know."

  Billy bit her lip. For a moment she said nothing, then, a littleconstrainedly, she rejoined:

  "Perhaps. Still--let us hope we have the right one, now."

  Mrs. Hartwell raised her eyebrows.

  "Well, my dear, I'm not so confident of that. _My_ choice has been andalways will be--William."

  Billy bit her lip again. This time her brown eyes flashed a little.

  "Is that so? But you see, after all, _you_ aren't making the--thechoice." Billy spoke lightly, gayly; and she ended with a bright littlelaugh, as if to hide any intended impertinence.

  It was Mrs. Hartwell's turn to bite her lip--and she did it.

  "So it seems," she rejoined frigidly, after the briefest of pauses.

  It was not until they were on their way to Corey Hill some time laterthat Mrs. Hartwell turned with the question:

  "Cyril is to be married in church, I suppose?"

  "No. They both preferred a home wedding."

  "Oh, what a pity! Church weddings are so attractive!"

  "To those who like them," amended Billy in spite of herself.

  "To every one, I think," corrected Mrs. Hartwell, positively.

  Billy laughed. She was beginning to discern that it did not do muchharm--nor much good--to disagree with her guest.

  "It's in the evening, then, of course?" pursued Mrs. Hartwell.

  "No; at noon."

  "Oh, how could you let them?"

  "But they preferred it, Mrs. Hartwell."

  "What if they did?" retorted the lady, sharply. "Can't you do as youplease in your own home? Evening weddings are so much prettier! We can'tchange now, of course, with the guests all invited. That is, I supposeyou do have guests!"

  Mrs. Hartwell's voice was aggrievedly despairing.

  "Oh, yes," smiled Billy, demurely. "We have guests invited--and I'mafraid we can't change the time."

  "No, of course not; but it's too bad. I conclude there are announcementsonly, as I got no cards.

  "Announcements only," bowed Billy.

  "I wish Cyril had consulted _me_, a little, about this affair."

  Billy did not answer. She could not trust herself to speak just then.Cyril's words of two days before were in her ears: "Yes, and it willgive Big Kate time to try to make your breakfast supper, and your rosespinks--or sunflowers."

  In a moment Mrs. Hartwell spoke again.

  "Of course a noon wedding is quite pretty if you darken the rooms andhave lights--you're going to do that, I suppose?"

  Billy shook her head slowly.

  "I'm afraid not, Mrs. Hartwell. That isn't the plan, now."

  "Not darken the rooms!" exclaimed Mrs. Hartwell. "Why, it won't--"She stopped suddenly, and fell back in her seat. The look of annoyeddisappointment gave way to one of confident relief. "But then, _thatcan_ be changed," she finished serenely.

  Billy opened her lips, but she shut them without speaking. After aminute she opened them again.

  "You might consult--Cyril--about that," she said in a quiet voice.

  "Yes, I will," nodded Mrs. Hartwell, brightly. She was looking pleasedand happy again. "I love weddings. Don't you? You can _do_ so much withthem!"

  "Can you?" laughed Billy, irrepressibly.

  "Yes. Cyril is happy, of course. Still, I can't imagine _him_ in lovewith any woman."

  "I think Marie can."

  "I suppose so. I don't seem to remember her much; still, I think I sawher once or twice when I was on last June. Music teacher, wasn't she?"

  "Yes. She is a very sweet girl."

  "Hm-m; I suppose so. Still, I think 'twould have been better if Cyrilcould have selected some one that _wasn't_ musical--say a more domesticwife. He's so terribly unpractical himself about household matters."

  Billy gave a ringing laugh and stood up. The car had come to a stopbefore her own door.

  "Do you? Just you wait till you see Marie's trousseau of--egg-beatersand cake tins," she chuckled.

  Mrs. Hartwell looked blank.

  "Whatever in the world do you mean, Billy?" she demanded fretfully, asshe followed her hostess from the car. "I declare! aren't you ever goingto grow beyond making those absurd remarks of yours?"

  "Maybe--sometime," laughed Billy, as she took little Kate's hand and ledthe way up the steps.

  Luncheon in the cozy dining-room at Hillside that day was not entirelya success. At least there were not present exactly the harmony andtranquillity that are conceded to be the best sauce for one's food. Thewedding, of course, was the all-absorbing topic of conversation; andBilly, between Aunt Hannah's attempts to be polite, Marie's to besweet-tempered, Mrs. Hartwell's to be dictatorial, and her own to bepacifying as well as firm, had a hard time of it. If it had not beenfor two or three diversions created by little Kate, the meal would havebeen, indeed, a dismal failure.

  But little Kate--most of the time the personification of properlittle-girlhood--had a disconcerting faculty of occasionally dropping aword here, or a question there, with startling effect. As, for instance,when she asked Billy "Who's going to boss your wedding?" and again whenshe calmly informed her mother that when _she_ was married she was notgoing to have any wedding at all to bother with, anyhow. She was goingto elope, and she should choose somebody's chauffeur, because he'd knowhow to go the farthest and fastest so her mother couldn't catch up withher and tell her how she ought to have done it.

  After luncheon Aunt Hannah went up-stairs for rest and recuperation.Marie took little Kate and went for a brisk walk--for the same purpose.This left Billy alone with her guest.

  "Perhaps you would like a nap, too, Mrs. Hartwell," suggested Billy,as they passed into the living-room. There was a curious note of almosthopefulness in her voice.

  Mrs. Hartwell scorned naps, and she said so very emphatically. She saidsomething else, too.

  "Billy, why do you always call me 'Mrs. Hartwell' in that stiff, formalfashion? You used to call me 'Aunt Kate.'"

  "But I was very young then." Billy's voice was troubled. Billy hadbeen trying so hard for the last two hours to be the graciously cordialhostess to this woman--Bertram's
sister.

  "Very true. Then why not 'Kate' now?"

  Billy hesitated. She was wondering why it seemed so hard to call Mrs.Hartwell "Kate."

  "Of course," resumed the lady, "when you're Bertram's wife and mysister--"

  "Why, of course," cried Billy, in a sudden flood of understanding.Curiously enough, she had never before thought of Mrs. Hartwell as _her_sister. "I shall be glad to call you 'Kate'--if you like."

  "Thank you. I shall like it very much, Billy," nodded the othercordially. "Indeed, my dear, I'm very fond of you, and I was delightedto hear you were to be my sister. If only--it could have stayed Williaminstead of Bertram."

  "But it couldn't," smiled Billy. "It wasn't William--that I loved."

  "But _Bertram!_--it's so absurd."

  "Absurd!" The smile was gone now.

  "Yes. Forgive me, Billy, but I was about as much surprised to hear ofBertram's engagement as I was of Cyril's."

  Billy grew a little white.

  "But Bertram was never an avowed--woman-hater, like Cyril, was he?"

  "'Woman-hater'--dear me, no! He was a woman-lover, always. As if hiseternal 'Face of a Girl' didn't prove that! Bertram has always lovedwomen--to paint. But as for his ever taking them seriously--why, Billy,what's the matter?"

  Billy had risen suddenly.

  "If you'll excuse me, please, just a few minutes," Billy said veryquietly. "I want to speak to Rosa in the kitchen. I'll be back--soon."

  In the kitchen Billy spoke to Rosa--she wondered afterwards what shesaid. Certainly she did not stay in the kitchen long enough to say much.In her own room a minute later, with the door fast closed, she tookfrom her table the photograph of Bertram and held it in her two hands,talking to it softly, but a little wildly.

  "I didn't listen! I didn't stay! Do you hear? I came to you. Sheshall not say anything that will make trouble between you and me. I'vesuffered enough through her already! And she doesn't _know_--she didn'tknow before, and she doesn't now. She's only imagining. I will notnot--_not_ believe that you love me--just to paint. No matter what theysay--all of them! I _will not!_"

  Billy put the photograph back on the table then, and went down-stairs toher guest. She smiled brightly, though her face was a little pale.

  "I wondered if perhaps you wouldn't like some music," she saidpleasantly, going straight to the piano.

  "Indeed I would!" agreed Mrs. Hartwell.

  Billy sat down then and played--played as Mrs. Hartwell had never heardher play before.

  "Why, Billy, you amaze me," she cried, when the pianist stopped andwhirled about. "I had no idea you could play like that!"

  Billy smiled enigmatically. Billy was thinking that Mrs. Hartwell would,indeed, have been surprised if she had known that in that playingwere herself, the ride home, the luncheon, Bertram, and the girl--whomBertram _did not love only to paint!_