Miss Billys Decision | Page 5

`she' conquered. I guess things were lively for a
while, though. Oh, there was a kitten, too, I believe, `Spunk,' who
added to the gayety of nations.''
``But what did the Henshaws do?''
``Well, I wasn't there, of course; but Bertram says they spun around
like tops gone mad for a time, but finally quieted down enough to
summon a married sister for immediate propriety, and to establish Aunt
Hannah for permanency the next day.''
``So that's how it happened! Well, by George!'' cried Arkwright.
``Yes,'' nodded the other. ``So you see there are untold possibilities just
in a name. Remember that. Just suppose you, as Mary Jane, should beg
a home in a feminine household--say in Miss Billy's, for instance!''
``I'd like to,'' retorted Arkwright, with sudden warmth.
Calderwell stared a little.
The other laughed shamefacedly.
``Oh, it's only that I happen to have a devouring curiosity to meet that
special young lady. I sing her songs (you know she's written some
dandies!), I've heard a lot about her, and I've seen her picture.'' (He did
not add that he had also purloined that same picture from his mother's
bureau--the picture being a gift from Aunt Hannah.) ``So you see I
would, indeed, like to occupy a corner in the fair Miss Billy's
household. I could write to Aunt Hannah and beg a home with her, you
know; eh?''

``Of course! Why don't you--`Mary Jane'?'' laughed Calderwell.
``Billy'd take you all right. She's had a little Miss Hawthorn, a music
teacher, there for months. She's always doing stunts of that sort. Belle
writes me that she's had a dozen forlornites there all this last summer,
two or three at a time-tired widows, lonesome old maids, and crippled
kids--just to give them a royal good time. So you see she'd take you,
without a doubt. Jove! what a pair you'd make: Miss Billy and Mr.
Mary Jane! You'd drive the suffragettes into conniption fits--just by the
sound of you!''
Arkwright laughed quietly; then he frowned.
``But how about it?'' he asked. ``I thought she was keeping house with
Aunt Hannah. Didn't she stay at all with the Henshaws?''
``Oh, yes, a few months. I never knew just why she did leave, but I
fancied, from something Billy herself said once, that she discovered she
was creating rather too much of an upheaval in the Strata. So she took
herself off. She went to school, and travelled considerably. She was
over here when I met her first. After that she was with us all one
summer on the yacht. A couple of years ago, or so, she went back to
Boston, bought a house and settled down with Aunt Hannah.''
``And she's not married--or even engaged?''
``Wasn't the last I heard. I haven't seen her since December, and I've
heard from her only indirectly. She corresponds with my sister, and so
do I--intermittently. I heard a month ago from Belle, and she had a
letter from Billy in August. But I heard nothing of any engagement.''
``How about the Henshaws? I should think there might be a chance
there for a romance-- a charming girl, and three unattached men.''
Calderwell gave a slow shake of the head.
``I don't think so. William is--let me see-- nearly forty-five, I guess, by
this time; and he isn't a marrying man. He buried his heart with his wife
and baby years ago. Cyril, according to Bertram, `hates women and all

other confusion,' so that ought to let him out. As for Bertram
himself--Bertram is `only Bertram.' He's always been that. Bertram
loves girls--to paint; but I can't imagine him making serious love to any
one. It would always be the tilt of a chin or the turn of a cheek that he
was admiring--to paint.
No, there's no chance for a romance there, I'll warrant.''
``But there's--yourself.''
Calderwell's eyebrows rose the fraction of an inch.
``Oh, of course. I presume January or February will find me back
there,'' he admitted with a sigh and a shrug. Then, a little bitterly, he
added: ``No, Arkwright. I shall keep away if I can. I know there's no
chance for me--now.''
``Then you'll leave me a clear field?'' bantered the other.
``Of course--`Mary Jane,' '' retorted Calderwell, with equal lightness.
``Thank you.''
``Oh, you needn't,'' laughed Calderwell. ``My giving you the right of
way doesn't insure you a thoroughfare for yourself--there are others,
you know. Billy Neilson has had sighing swains about I her, I imagine,
since she could walk and talk. She is a wonderfully fascinating little bit
of femininity, and she has a heart of pure gold. All is, I envy the man
who wins it--for the man who wins that, wins her.''
There was no answer. Arkwright sat with his eyes on the moving
throng outside