miss billie married-第22章

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Arkwright　frowned　slightly。



‘‘Yes；　he's　faithful；　but　he　isn't　all　right；　by

any　means。　　I　think　he's　a　sick　man；　myself。''



‘‘What　makes　Billy　let　him　work；　then？''



‘‘Let　him！''　sniffed　Arkwright。　　‘‘I'd　like　to

see　you　try　to　stop　him！　　Mrs。　Henshaw　begs　and

pleads　with　him　to　stop；　but　he　scouts　the　idea。　

Pete　is　thoroughly　and　unalterably　convinced

that　the　family　would　starve　to　death　if　it　weren't

for　him；　and　Mrs。　Henshaw　says　that　she'll

admit　he　has　some　grounds　for　his　opinion　when

one　remembers　the　condition　of　the　kitchen　and

dining…room　the　night　she　presided　over　them。''



‘‘Poor　Billy！''　chuckled　Calderwell。　　‘‘I'd

have　gone　down　into　the　kitchen　myself　if　I'd

suspected　what　was　going　on。''




Arkwright　raised　his　eyebrows。



‘‘Perhaps　it's　well　you　didn'tif　Bertram's

picture　of　what　he　found　there　when　he　went

down　is　a　true　one。　　Mrs。　Henshaw　acknowledges

that　even　the　cat　sought　refuge　under　the　stove。''



‘‘As　if　the　veriest　worm　that　crawls　ever　needed

to　seek　refuge　from　Billy！''　scoffed　Calderwell。　

‘‘By　the　way；　what's　this　Annex　I　hear　of？　　Bertram

mentioned　it；　but　I　couldn't　get　either　of

them　to　tell　what　it　was。　　Billy　wouldn't；　and

Bertram　said　he　couldn'tnot　with　Billy　shaking

her　head　at　him　like　that。　　So　I　had　my　suspicions。　

One　of　Billy's　pet　charities？''



‘‘She　doesn't　call　it　that。''　　Arkwright's　face

and　voice　softened。　　‘‘It　is　Hillside。　　She　still

keeps　it　open。　　She　calls　it　the　Annex　to　her

home。　　She's　filled　it　with　a　crippled　woman；　a

poor　little　music　teacher；　a　lame　boy；　and　Aunt

Hannah。''



‘‘But　howextraordinary！''



‘‘She　doesn't　think　so。　　She　says　it's　just　an

overflow　house　for　the　extra　happiness　she　can't

use。''



There　was　a　moment's　silence。　　Calderwell　laid

down　his　cigar；　pulled　out　his　handkerchief；　and

blew　his　nose　furiously。　　Then　he　got　to　his　feet

and　walked　to　the　fireplace。　　After　a　minute　he

turned。



‘‘Well；　if　she　isn't　the　beat　'em！''　he　spluttered。　

‘‘And　I　had　the　gall　to　ask　you　if　Henshaw　made

herhappy！　　Overflow　house；　indeed！''



‘‘The　best　of　it　is；　the　way　she　does　it；''　smiled

Arkwright。　　‘‘They're　all　the　sort　of　people

ordinary　charity　could　never　reach；　and　the　only

way　she　got　them　there　at　all　was　to　make　each

one　think　that　he　or　she　was　absolutely　necessary

to　the　rest　of　them。　　Even　as　it　is；　they　all　pay

a　little　something　toward　the　running　expenses

of　the　house。　　They　insisted　on　that；　and　Mrs。

Henshaw　had　to　let　them。　　I　believe　her　chief

difficulty　now　is　that　she　has　not　less　than　six

people　whom　she　wishes　to　put　into　the　two　extra

rooms　still　unoccupied；　and　she　can't　make　up

her　mind　which　to　take。　　Her　husband　says　he

expects　to　hear　any　day　of　an　Annexette　to　the

Annex。''



‘‘Humph！''　grunted　Calderwell；　as　he　turned

and　began　to　walk　up　and　down　the　room。　　‘‘Bertram

is　still　painting；　I　suppose。''



‘‘Oh；　yes。''



‘‘What's　he　doing　now？''



‘‘Several　things。　　He's　up　to　his　eyes　in　work。　

As　you　probably　have　heard；　he　met　with　a

severe　accident　last　summer；　and　lost　the　use　of

his　right　arm　for　many　months。　　I　believe　they

thought　at　one　time　he　had　lost　it　forever。　　But

it's　all　right　now；　and　he　has　several　commissions

for　portraits。　　Alice　says　he's　doing　ideal　heads

again；　too。''



‘‘Same　old　‘Face　of　a　Girl'？''



‘‘I　suppose　so；　though　Alice　didn't　say。　　Of

course　his　special　work　just　now　is　painting　the

portrait　of　Miss　Marguerite　Winthrop。　　You

may　have　heard　that　he　tried　it　last　year　and

and　didn't　make　quite　a　success　of　it。''



‘‘Yes。　　My　sister　Belle　told　me。　　She　hears

from　Billy　once　in　a　while。　　Will　it　be　a　go；　this

time？''



‘‘We'll　hope　sofor　everybody's　sake。　　I

imagine　no　one　has　seen　it　yetit's　not　finished；

but　Alice　says''



Calderwell　turned　abruptly；　a　quizzical　smile

on　his　face。



‘‘See　here；　my　son；''　he　interposed；　‘‘it　strikes

me　that　this　Alice　is　saying　a　good　dealto　you！　

Who　is　she？''



Arkwright　gave　a　light　laugh。



‘‘Why；　I　told　you。　　She　is　Miss　Alice　Greggory；

Mrs。　Henshaw's　friendand　mine。　　I

have　known　her　for　years。''



‘‘Hm…m；　what　is　she　like？''



‘‘Like？　　Why；　she's　likelike　herself；　of

course。　　You'll　have　to　know　Alice。　　She's　the

salt　of　the　earthAlice　is；''　smiled　Arkwright；

rising　to　his　feet　with　a　remonstrative　gesture；

as　he　saw　Calderwell　pick　up　his　coat。　　‘‘What's

your　hurry？''



‘‘Hm…m；''　commented　Calderwell　again；

ignoring　the　question。　　‘‘And　when；　may　I　ask；

do　you　intend　to　appropriate　thisersalt

toerahseason　your　own　life　with；

as　I　might　sayeh？''



Arkwright　laughed。　　There　was　not　the　slightest

trace　of　embarrassment　in　his　face。



‘‘Never。　　_You're_　on　the　wrong　track；　this　time。　

Alice　and　I　are　good　friendsalways　have　been；

and　always　will　be；　I　hope。''



‘‘Nothing　more？''



‘‘Nothing　more。　　I　see　her　frequently。　　She　is

musical；　and　the　Henshaws　are　good　enough　to

ask　us　there　often　together。　　You　will　meet　her；

doubtless；　now；　yourself。　　She　is　frequently　at

the　Henshaw　home。''



‘‘Hm…m。''　　Calderwell　still　eyed　his　host

shrewdly。　　‘‘Then　you'll　give　me　a　clear　field；

eh？''



‘‘Certainly。''　　Arkwright's　eyes　met　his　friend's

gaze　without　swerving。



‘‘All　right。　　However；　I　suppose　you'll　tell　me；

as　I　did　you；　once；　that　a　right　of　way　in　such　a

case　doesn't　mean　a　thoroughfare　for　the　party

interested。　　If　my　memory　serves　me；　I　gave

you　right　of　way　in　Paris　to　win　the　affections

of　a　certain　elusive　Miss　Billy　here　in

Boston；　if　you　could。　　But　I　see　you　didn't

seem　to　improve　your　opportunities；''　he　finished

teasingly。



Arkwright　stooped；　of　a　sudden；　to　pick　up　a

bit　of　paper　from　the　floor。



‘‘No；''　he　said　quietly。　　‘‘I　didn't　seem　to

improve　my　opportunities。''　　This　time　he　did

not　meet　Calderwell's　eyes。



The　good…byes　had　been　said　when　Calderwell

turned　abruptly　at　the　door。



‘‘Oh；　I　say；　I　suppose　you're　going　to　that

devil's　carnival　at　Jordan　Hall　to…morrow　night。''



‘‘Devil's　carnival！　　You　don't　meanCyril

Henshaw's　piano　recital！''



‘‘Sure　I　do；''　grinned　Calderwell；　unabashed。　

‘‘And　I'll　warrant　it'll　be　a　devil's　carnival；　too。　

Isn't　Mr。　Cyril　Henshaw　going　to　play　his　own

music？　　Oh；　I　know　I'm　hopeless；　from　your

standpoint；　but　I　can't　help　it。　　I　like　mine　with

some　go　in　it；　and　a　tune　that　you　can　find　without

hunting　for　it。　　And　I　don't　like　lost　spirits

gone　mad　that　wail　and　shriek　through　ten　perfectly

good　minutes；　and　then　die　with　a　gasping

moan　whose　home　is　the　tombs。　　However；　you're

going；　I　take　it。''



‘‘Of　course　I　am；''　laughed　the　other。　　‘‘You

couldn't　hire　Alice　to　miss　one　shriek　of　those

spirits。　　Besides；　I　rather　like　them　myself；　you

know。''



‘‘Yes；　I　suppose　you　do。　　You're　brought　up

on　itin　your　business。　　But　me　for　the　‘Merry

Widow'　and　even　the　hoary　‘Jingle　Bells'　every

time！　　However；　I'm　going　to　be　thereout　of

respect　to　the　poor　fellow's　family。　　And；　by　the

way；　that's　another　thing　that　bowled　me　over

Cyril's　marriage。　　Why；　Cyril　hates　women！''



‘‘Not　all　womenwe'll　hope；''　smiled　Arkwright。　

‘‘Do　you　know　his　wife？''



‘‘Not　much。　　I　used　to　see　her　a　little　at　Billy's。　

Music　teacher；　wasn't　she？　　Then　she's　the　same

sort；　I　suppose。''



‘‘But　she　isn't；''　laughed　Arkwright。　　Oh；

she　taught　music；　but　that　was　only　because　of

necessity；　I　take　it。　　She's　domestic　through　and

through；　with　an　overwhelming　passion　for

making　puddings　and　darning　socks；　I　hear。　　Alice

says　she　believes　Mrs。　Cyril　knows　every　dish

and　spoon　by　its　Christian　name；　and　that　there's

never　so　much　as　a　spool　of　thread　out　of　order

in　the　house。''



‘‘But　how　does　Cyril　stand　itthe　trials　and

tribulations　of　domestic　life？　　Bertram　used　to

declare　that　the　whole　Strata　was　a