Miss Billy's Decision by Eleanor H. Porter
CHAPTER VI. AT THE SIGN OF THE PINK
After a week of beautiful autumn weather, Thursday dawned raw and cold.By noon an east wind had made the temperature still more uncomfortable.
At two o'clock Aunt Hannah tapped at Billy's chamber door. She showed atroubled face to the girl who answered her knock.
"Billy, _would_ you mind very much if I asked you to go alone to theCarletons' and to meet Mary Jane?" she inquired anxiously.
"Why, no--that is, of course I should _mind_, dear, because I alwayslike to have you go to places with me. But it isn't necessary. Youaren't sick; are you?"
"N-no, not exactly; but I have been sneezing all the morning, and takingcamphor and sugar to break it up--if it is a cold. But it is so raw andNovemberish out, that--"
"Why, of course you sha'n't go, you poor dear! Mercy! don't get oneof those dreadful colds on to you before the wedding! Have you felta draft? Where's another shawl?" Billy turned and cast searching eyesabout the room--Billy always kept shawls everywhere for Aunt Hannah'sshoulders and feet. Bertram had been known to say, indeed, that a room,according to Aunt Hannah, was not fully furnished unless it containedfrom one to four shawls, assorted as to size and warmth. Shawls,certainly, did seem to be a necessity with Aunt Hannah, as she usuallywore from one to three at the same time--which again caused Bertram todeclare that he always counted Aunt Hannah's shawls when he wished toknow what the thermometer was.
"No, I'm not cold, and I haven't felt a draft," said Aunt Hannah now. "Iput on my thickest gray shawl this morning with the little pink one fordown-stairs, and the blue one for breakfast; so you see I've been verycareful. But I _have_ sneezed six times, so I think 'twould be safer notto go out in this east wind. You were going to stop for Mrs. Granger,anyway, weren't you? So you'll have her with you for the tea."
"Yes, dear, don't worry. I'll take your cards and explain to Mrs.Carleton and her daughters."
"And, of course, as far as Mary Jane is concerned, I don't know her anymore than you do; so I couldn't be any help there," sighed Aunt Hannah.
"Not a bit," smiled Billy, cheerily. "Don't give it another thought, mydear. I sha'n't have a bit of trouble. All I'll have to do is to lookfor a girl alone with a pink. Of course I'll have mine on, too, andshe'll be watching for me. So just run along and take your nap, dear,and be all rested and ready to welcome her when she comes," finishedBilly, stooping to give the soft, faintly pink cheek a warm kiss.
"Well, thank you, my dear; perhaps I will," sighed Aunt Hannah, drawingthe gray shawl about her as she turned away contentedly.
Mrs. Carleton's tea that afternoon was, for Billy, not an occasion ofunalloyed joy. It was the first time she had appeared at a gathering ofany size since the announcement of her engagement; and, as she dolefullytold Bertram afterwards, she had very much the feeling of the picturehung on the wall.
"And they _did_ put up their lorgnettes and say, 'Is _that_ the one?'"she declared; "and I know some of them finished with 'Did you ever?'too," she sighed.
But Billy did not stay long in Mrs. Carleton's softly-lighted,flower-perfumed rooms. At ten minutes past four she was saying good-byto a group of friends who were vainly urging her to remain longer.
"I can't--I really can't," she declared. "I'm due at the South Stationat half past four to meet a Miss Arkwright, a young cousin of AuntHannah's, whom I've never seen before. We're to meet at the sign ofthe pink," she explained smilingly, just touching the single flower shewore.
Her hostess gave a sudden laugh.
"Let me see, my dear; if I remember rightly, you've had experiencebefore, meeting at this sign of the pink. At least, I have a very vividrecollection of Mr. William Henshaw's going once to meet a _boy_ witha pink, who turned out to be a girl. Now, to even things up, your girlshould turn out to be a boy!"
Billy smiled and reddened.
"Perhaps--but I don't think to-day will strike the balance," sheretorted, backing toward the door. "This young lady's name is 'MaryJane'; and I'll leave it to you to find anything very masculine inthat!"
It was a short drive from Mrs. Carleton's Commonwealth Avenue home tothe South Station, and Peggy made as quick work of it as the narrow,congested cross streets would allow. In ample time Billy found herselfin the great waiting-room, with John saying respectfully in her ear:
"The man says the train comes in on Track Fourteen, Miss, an' it's ontime."
At twenty-nine minutes past four Billy left her seat and walked down thetrain-shed platform to Track Number Fourteen. She had pinned the pinknow to the outside of her long coat, and it made an attractive dashof white against the dark-blue velvet. Billy was looking particularlylovely to-day. Framing her face was the big dark-blue velvet picture hatwith its becoming white plumes.
During the brief minutes' wait before the clanging locomotive puffedinto view far down the long track, Billy's thoughts involuntarily wentback to that other watcher beside a train gate not quite five yearsbefore.
"Dear Uncle William!" she murmured tenderly. Then suddenly shelaughed--so nearly aloud that a man behind her gave her a covert glancefrom curious eyes. "My! but what a jolt I must have been to UncleWilliam!" Billy was thinking.
The next minute she drew nearer the gate and regarded with absorbedattention the long line of passengers already sweeping up the narrowaisle between the cars.
Hurrying men came first, with long strides, and eyes that lookedstraight ahead. These Billy let pass with a mere glance. The next groupshowed a sprinkling of women--women whose trig hats and linen collarsspelled promptness as well as certainty of aim and accomplishment. Tothese, also, Billy paid scant attention. Couples came next--the menanxious-eyed, and usually walking two steps ahead of their companions;the women plainly flustered and hurried, and invariably buttoning glovesor gathering up trailing ends of scarfs or boas.
The crowd was thickening fast, now, and Billy's eyes were alert.Children were appearing, and young women walking alone. One of thesewore a bunch of violets. Billy gave her a second glance. Then she saw apink--but it was on the coat lapel of a tall young fellow with a brownbeard; so with a slight frown she looked beyond down the line.
Old men came now, and old women; fleshy women, and women with smallchildren and babies. Couples came, too--dawdling couples, plainly newlymarried: the men were not two steps ahead, and the women's gloves werebuttoned and their furs in place.
Gradually the line thinned, and soon there were left only an old manwith a cane, and a young woman with three children. Yet nowhere hadBilly seen a girl wearing a white carnation, and walking alone.
With a deeper frown on her face Billy turned and looked about her. Shethought that somewhere in the crowd she had missed Mary Jane, and thatshe would find her now, standing near. But there was no one standingnear except the good-looking young fellow with the little pointedbrown beard, who, as Billy noticed a second time, was wearing a whitecarnation.
As she glanced toward him, their eyes met. Then, to Billy's unboundedamazement, the man advanced with uplifted hat.
"I beg your pardon, but is not this--Miss Neilson?"
Billy drew back with just a touch of hauteur.
"Y-yes," she murmured.
"I thought so--yet I was expecting to see you with Aunt Hannah. I am M.J. Arkwright, Miss Neilson."
For a brief instant Billy stared dazedly.
"You don't mean--Mary Jane?" she gasped.
"I'm afraid I do." His lips twitched.
"But I thought--we were expecting--" She stopped helplessly. For onemore brief instant she stared; then, suddenly, a swift change came toher face. Her eyes danced.
"Oh--oh!" she chuckled. "How perfectly funny! You _have_ evened thingsup, after all. To think that Mary Jane should be a--" She paused andflashed almost angrily suspicious eyes into his face. "But mine _was_'Billy,'" she cried. "Your name isn't really--Mary Jane'?"
"I am often called that." His brown eyes twinkled, but they did notswerve from their direct gaze into her own.
"But--" Billy hesitated,
The man raised a protesting hand.
"Thank you; but, Miss Neilson, really--I couldn't think of trespassingon your hospitality--now, you know."
"But we--we invited you," stammered Billy.
He shook his head.
"You invited _Miss_ Mary Jane."
Billy bubbled into low laughter.
"I beg your pardon, but it _is_ funny," she sighed. "You see _I_ cameonce just the same way, and now to have the tables turned like this!What will Aunt Hannah say--what will everybody say? Come, I want them tobegin--to say it," she chuckled irrepressibly.
"Thank you, but I shall go to a hotel, of course. Later, if you'll be sogood as to let me call, and explain--!"
"But I'm afraid Aunt Hannah will think--" Billy stopped abruptly. Somedistance away she saw John coming toward them. She turned hurriedly tothe man at her side. Her eyes still danced, but her voice was mockinglyserious. "Really, Mr. Mary Jane, I'm afraid you'll have to come todinner; then you can settle the rest with Aunt Hannah. John is almostupon us--and _I_ don't want to make explanations. Do you?"
"John," she said airily to the somewhat dazed chauffeur (who had beentold he was to meet a young woman), "take Mr. Arkwright's bag, please,and show him where Peggy is waiting. It will be five minutes, perhaps,before I can come--if you'll kindly excuse me," she added to Arkwright,with a flashing glance from merry eyes. "I have some--telephoning todo."
All the way to the telephone booth Billy was trying to bring order outof the chaos of her mind; but all the way, too, she was chuckling.
"To think that this thing should have happened to _me!_" shesaid, almost aloud. "And here I am telephoning just like UncleWilliam--Bertram said Uncle William _did_ telephone about _me!_"
In due course Billy had Aunt Hannah at the other end of the wire.
"Aunt Hannah, listen. I'd never have believed it, but it's happened.Mary Jane is--a man."
Billy heard a dismayed gasp and a muttered "Oh, my grief andconscience!" then a shaking "Wha-at?"
"I say, Mary Jane is a man." Billy was enjoying herself hugely.
"A _ma-an!_"
"Yes; a great big man with a brown beard. He's waiting now with John andI must go."
"But, Billy, I don't understand," chattered an agitated voice over theline. "He--he called himself 'Mary Jane.' He hasn't any business to bea big man with a brown beard! What shall we do? We don't want a big manwith a brown beard--here!"
Billy laughed roguishly.
"I don't know. _You_ asked him! How he will like that little blueroom--Aunt Hannah!" Billy's voice turned suddenly tragic. "For pity'ssake take out those curling tongs and hairpins, and the work-basket.I'd _never_ hear the last of it if he saw those, I know. He's just thatkind!"
A half stifled groan came over the wire.
"Billy, he can't stay here."
Billy laughed again.
"No, no, dear; he won't, I know. He says he's going to a hotel. ButI had to bring him home to dinner; there was no other way, under thecircumstances. He won't stay. Don't you worry. But good-by. I mustgo. _Remember those curling tongs!_" And the receiver clicked sharplyagainst the hook.
In the automobile some minutes later, Billy and Mr. M. J. Arkwrightwere speeding toward Corey Hill. It was during a slight pause in theconversation that Billy turned to her companion with a demure:
"I telephoned Aunt Hannah, Mr. Arkwright. I thought she ought tobe--warned."
"You are very kind. What did she say?--if I may ask."
There was a brief moment of hesitation before Billy answered.
"She said you called yourself 'Mary Jane,' and that you hadn't anybusiness to be a big man with a brown beard."
Arkwright laughed.
"I'm afraid I owe Aunt Hannah an apology," he said. He hesitated,glanced admiringly at the glowing, half-averted face near him, then wenton decisively. He wore the air of a man who has set the match to hisbridges. "I signed both letters 'M. J. Arkwright,' but in the first oneI quoted a remark of a friend, and in that remark I was addressed as'Mary Jane.' I did not know but Aunt Hannah knew of the nickname."(Arkwright was speaking a little slowly now, as if weighing his words.)"But when she answered, I saw that she did not; for, from something shesaid, I realized that she thought I was a real Mary Jane. For the jokeof the thing I let it pass. But--if she noticed my letter carefully, shesaw that I did not accept your kind invitation to give 'Mary Jane' ahome."
"Yes, we noticed that," nodded Billy, merrily. "But we didn't think youmeant it. You see we pictured you as a shy young thing. But, really,"she went on with a low laugh, "you see your coming as a masculine 'MaryJane' was particularly funny--for me; for, though perhaps you didn'tknow it, I came once to this very same city, wearing a pink, and wasexpected to be Billy, a boy. And only to-day a lady warned me thatyour coming might even things up. But I didn't believe it would--a MaryJane!"
Arkwright laughed. Again he hesitated, and seemed to be weighing hiswords.
"Yes, I heard about that coming of yours. I might almost say--that's whyI--let the mistake pass in Aunt Hannah's letter," he said.
Billy turned with reproachful eyes.
"Oh, how could--you? But then--it was a temptation!" She laughedsuddenly. "What sinful joy you must have had watching me hunt for 'MaryJane.'"
"I didn't," acknowledged the other, with unexpected candor. "Ifelt--ashamed. And when I saw you were there alone without Aunt Hannah,I came very near not speaking at all--until I realized that that wouldbe even worse, under the circumstances."
"Of course it would," smiled Billy, brightly; "so I don't see but Ishall have to forgive you, after all. And here we are at home, Mr. MaryJane. By the way, what did you say that 'M. J.' did stand for?" sheasked, as the car came to a stop.
The man did not seem to hear; at least he did not answer. He washelping his hostess to alight. A moment later a plainly agitated AuntHannah--her gray shawl topped with a huge black one--opened the door ofthe house.