Miss Billy | Page 4

GOING TO MARRY"
XXX. MARIE FINDS A FRIEND
XXXI. THE ENGAGEMENT OF ONE
XXXII. CYRIL HAS SOMETHING TO SAY
XXXIII. WILLIAM IS WORRIED
XXXIV. CLASS DAY
XXXV. SISTER KATE AGAIN
XXXVI. WILLIAM MEETS WITH A SURPRISE
XXXVII. "WILLIAM'S BROTHER"
XXXVIII. THE ENGAGEMENT OF TWO
XXXIX. A LITTLE PIECE OF PAPER
XL. WILLIAM PAYS A VISIT
XLI. THE CROOKED MADE STRAIGHT

XLII. THE "END OF THE STORY"

MISS BILLY

CHAPTER I
BILLY WRITES A LETTER

Billy Neilson was eighteen years old when the aunt, who had brought
her up from babyhood, died. Miss Benton's death left Billy quite alone
in the world--alone, and peculiarly forlorn. To Mr. James Harding, of
Harding & Harding, who had charge of Billy's not inconsiderable
property, the girl poured out her heart in all its loneliness two days after
the funeral.
"You see, Mr. Harding, there isn't any one--not any one who-- cares,"
she choked.
"Tut, tut, my child, it's not so bad as that, surely," remonstrated the old
man, gently. "Why, I--I care."
Billy smiled through tear-wet eyes.
"But I can't LIVE with you," she said.
"I'm not so sure of that, either," retorted the man. "I'm thinking that
Letty and Ann would LIKE to have you with us."
The girl laughed now outright. She was thinking of Miss Letty, who
had "nerves," and of Miss Ann, who had a "heart"; and she pictured her
own young, breezy, healthy self attempting to conform to the hushed
and shaded thing that life was, within Lawyer Harding's home.
"Thank you, but I'm sure they wouldn't," she objected. "You don't
know how noisy I am."
The lawyer stirred restlessly and pondered.
"But, surely, my dear, isn't there some relative, somewhere?" he
demanded. "How about your mother's people?"
Billy shook her head. Her eyes filled again with tears.
There was only Aunt Ella, ever, that I knew anything about. She and
mother were the only children there were, and mother died when I was

a year old, you know."
"But your father's people?"
"It's even worse there. He was an only child and an orphan when
mother married him. He died when I was but six months old. After that
there was only mother and Aunt Ella, then Aunt Ella alone; and
now--no one."
"And you know nothing of your father's people?"
"Nothing; that is--almost nothing."
"Then there is some one?"
Billy smiled. A deeper pink showed in her cheeks.
"Why, there's one--a man but he isn't really father's people, anyway.
But I--I have been tempted to write to him."
"Who is he?"
"The one I'm named for. He was father's boyhood chum. You see that's
why I'm 'Billy' instead of being a proper 'Susie,' or 'Bessie,' or 'Sally
Jane.' Father had made up his mind to name his baby 'William' after his
chum, and when I came, Aunt Ella said, he was quite broken-hearted
until somebody hit upon the idea of naming me Billy.' Then he was
content, for it seems that he always called his chum 'Billy' anyhow.
And so--'Billy' I am to-day."
"Do you know this man?"
"No. You see father died, and mother and Aunt Ella knew him only
very slightly. Mother knew his wife, though, Aunt Ella said, and SHE
was lovely."
"Hm--; well, we might look them up, perhaps. You know his address?"
"Oh, yes unless he's moved. We've always kept that. Aunt Ella used to
say sometimes that she was going to write to him some day about me,
you know."
"What's his name?"
"William Henshaw. He lives in Boston."
Lawyer Harding snatched off his glasses, and leaned forward in his
chair.
"William Henshaw! Not the Beacon Street Henshaws!" he cried.
It was Billy's turn to be excited. She, too, leaned forward eagerly.
"Oh, do you know him? That's lovely! And his address IS Beacon
Street! I know because I saw it only to-day. You see, I HAVE been
tempted to write him."

"Write him? Of course you'll write him," cried the lawyer. "And we
don't need to do much 'looking up' there, child. I've known the family
for years, and this William was a college mate of my boy's. Nice fellow,
too. I've heard Ned speak of him. There were three sons, William, and
two others much younger than he. I've forgotten their names."
"Then you do know him! I'm so glad," exclaimed Billy. "You see, he
never seemed to me quite real."
"I know about him," corrected the lawyer, smilingly, "though I'll
confess I've rather lost track of him lately. Ned will know. I'll ask Ned.
Now go home, my dear, and dry those pretty eyes of yours. Or, better
still, come home with me to tea. I--I'll telephone up to the house." And
he rose stiffly and went into the inner office.
Some minutes passed before he came back,