"Yes; we'll go. Come," he apparently agreed. But once outside on the broad expanse before the Subway entrance he stopped again. "Miss Billy, please come home," he implored. "Ye don't know--ye can't know what yer a-doin'!"

The girl tossed her head. She was angry now.

"Pete, if you will not go with me I shall go alone. I am not afraid."

"But the hour--the place--you, a young girl! Miss Billy!" remonstrated the old man agitatedly.

"It isn't so very late. I've been out lots of times later than this at home. And as for the place, it's all light and bright, and lots of people were going in--ladies and gentlemen. Nothing could hurt me, Pete, and I shall go; but I'd rather you were with me. Why, Pete, we mustn't leave him. He isn't--he isn't HIMSELF, Pete. He--he's been DRINKING!"

Billy's voice broke, and her face flushed scarlet. She was almost crying. "Come, you won't refuse now!" she finished, resolutely turning toward the street.

And because old Pete could not pick her up bodily and carry her home, he followed close at her heels. At the head of the marble stairs "all lights and mirrors," however, he made one last plea.

"Miss Billy, once more I beg of ye, won't ye come home? Ye don't know what yer a-doin', Miss Billy, ye don't--ye don't!"

"I can't go home," persisted Billy. "I must get Mr. Bertram away from that man. Now come; we'll just stand at the door and look in until we see him. Then I'll go straight to him and speak to him." And with that she turned and ran down the steps.

Billy blinked a little at the lights which, reflected in the great plate-gla.s.s mirrors, were a million dazzling points that found themselves again repeated in the sparkling crystal and glittering silver on the flower-decked tables. All about her Billy saw flushed-faced men, and bright-eyed women, laughing, chatting, and clinking together their slender-stemmed wine gla.s.ses. But nowhere, as she looked about her, could Billy descry the man she sought.

The head waiter came forward with uplifted hand, but Billy did not see him. A girl at her left laughed disagreeably, and several men stared with boldly admiring eyes; but to them, too, Billy paid no heed. Then, halfway across the room she spied Bertram and Seaver sitting together at a small table alone.

Simultaneously her own and Bertram's eyes met.

With a sharp word under his breath Bertram sprang to his feet. His befogged brain had cleared suddenly under the shock of Billy's presence.

"Billy, for Heaven's sake what are you doing here?" he demanded in a low voice, as he reached her side.

"I came for you. I want you to go home with me, please, Mr. Bertram,"

whispered Billy, pleadingly.

The man had not waited for an answer to his question. With a deft touch he had turned Billy toward the door; and even as she finished her sentence she found herself in the marble hallway confronting Pete, pallid-faced, and shaking.

"And you, too, Pete! Great Scott! what does this mean?" he exploded angrily.

Pete could only shake his head and glance imploringly at Billy. His dry lips and tongue refused to articulate even one word.

"We came--for--you," choked Billy. "You see, I don't like that Seaver man."

"Well, by Jove! this is the limit!" breathed Bertram.

CHAPTER XVI

KATE TAKES A HAND

Undeniably Billy was in disgrace, and none knew it better than Billy herself. The whole family had contributed to this knowledge. Aunt Hannah was inexpressibly shocked; she had not breath even to e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.e "My grief and conscience!" Kate was disgusted; Cyril was coldly reserved; Bertram was frankly angry; even William was vexed, and showed it. s.p.u.n.k, too, as if in league with the rest, took this opportunity to display one of his occasional fits of independence; and when Billy, longing for some sort of comfort, called him to her, he settled back on his tiny haunches and imperturbably winked and blinked his indifference.

Nearly all the family had had something to say to Billy on the matter, with not entirely satisfactory results, when Kate determined to see what she could do. She chose a time when she could have the girl quite to herself with small likelihood of interruption.

"But, Billy, how could you do such an absurd thing?" she demanded. "The idea of leaving my house alone, at half-past ten at night, to follow a couple of men through the streets of Boston, and then with my brothers'

butler make a scene like that in a--a public dining-room!"

Billy sighed in a discouraged way.

"Aunt Kate, can't I make you and the rest of them understand that I didn't start out to do all that? I meant just to speak to Mr. Bertram, and get him away from that man."

"But, my dear child, even that was bad enough!"

Billy lifted her chin.

"You don't seem to think, Aunt Kate; Mr. Bertram was--was not sober."

"All the more reason then why you should NOT have done what you did!"

"Why, Aunt Kate, you wouldn't leave him alone in that condition with that man!"

It was Mrs. Hartwell's turn to sigh.

"But, Billy," she contested, wearily, "can't you understand that it wasn't YOUR place to interfere--you, a young girl?"

"I'm sure I don't see what difference that makes. I was the only one that could do it! Besides, afterward, I did try to get some one else, Uncle William and Mr. Cyril. But when I found I couldn't get them, I just had to do it alone--that is, with Pete."

"Pete!" scoffed Mrs. Hartwell. "Pete, indeed!"

Billy's head came up with a jerk. Billy was very angry now.

"Aunt Kate, it seems I've done a very terrible thing, but I'm sure I don't see it that way. I wasn't afraid, and I wasn't in the least bit of danger anywhere. I knew my way perfectly, and I did NOT make any 'scene'

in that restaurant. I just asked Mr. Bertram to come home with me. One would think you WANTED Mr. Bertram to go off with that man and--and drink too much. But Uncle William hasn't liked him before, not one bit!

I've heard him talk about him--that Mr. Seaver."

Mrs. Hartwell raised both her hands, palms outward.

"Billy, it is useless to talk with you. You are quite impossible. It is even worse than I expected!" she cried, with wrathful impatience.

"Worse than you--expected? What do you mean, please?"

"Worse than I thought it would be--before you came. The idea of those five men taking a girl to bring up!"

Billy sat very still. She was even holding her breath, though Mrs.

Hartwell did not know that.

"You mean--that they did not--want me?" she asked quietly, so quietly that Mrs. Hartwell did not realize the sudden tension behind the words.

For that matter, Mrs. Hartwell was too angry now to realize anything outside of herself.

"Want you! Billy, it is high time that you understand just how things are, and have been, at the house; then perhaps you will conduct yourself with an eye a little more to other people's comfort. Can you imagine three young men like my brothers WANTING to take a strange young woman into their home to upset everything?"

"To--upset--everything!" echoed Billy, faintly. "And have I done--that?"