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Updated: May 2, 2025
Much to Billy's delight, Alice Greggory, as a musician, proved to be eminently satisfactory. She was quick at sight reading, and accurate. She played easily, and with good expression.
Billy gave one of her unexpected laughs. "Mercy!" she chuckled. "Only picture Miss Alice's face if I should try to buy them rugs and tablecloths! No, dear," she went on more seriously, "I sha'n't do that, of course though I'd like to; but I shall try to see Mrs. Greggory again, if it's nothing more than a rose or a book or a new magazine that I can take to her."
And she says it'll remain so for a long, long time if we'll only keep it wet." Alice Greggory murmured a low something a something that she tried, evidently, very hard to make politely appropriate and appreciative. Yet her manner, as she took off her hat and coat and sat down, so plainly said: "You are very kind, of course, but I wish you would keep yourself and your plants at home!" that Mrs.
"Well, they didn't make a real festive-looking wedding party, you must admit," laughed Cyril; "what with the bridegroom's own arm in a sling, too! But who were they all, anyway?" "Why, you knew Mrs. Greggory and Alice, of course and Pete," smiled Marie. "And wasn't Pete happy?
Alice Greggory did not know it, but he was thinking of another story he had once told in that same room. Billy was his listener then, while now A little precipitately he began to speak. "When I was a very small boy I went to visit my uncle, who, in his young days, had been quite a hunter. Before the fireplace in his library was a huge tiger skin with a particularly lifelike head.
You're not listening at all," complained Alice Greggory at last, reproachfully. With a visible effort the man roused himself. "Indeed I am," he maintained. "I thought you'd be interested in the wedding. You used to be friends you and Billy." The girl's voice still vibrated with reproach.
It was when, with Aunt Hannah, they were having tea before the fire a little later, that Billy told of her adventure the preceding Friday afternoon in front of Symphony Hall. "You knew the girl, of course I think you said you knew the girl," ventured Arkwright. "Oh, yes. She was Alice Greggory. I met her with Uncle William first, over a Lowestoft teapot.
Certainly she always found plenty to do there, whenever she came. There was Aunt Hannah to be read to, Mrs. Greggory to be sung to, and Tommy Dunn to be listened to; for Tommy Dunn was always quivering with eagerness to play her his latest "piece." Billy knew that some day at the Annex she would meet Mr. M. J. Arkwright; and she told herself that she hoped she should.
It was either Arkwright or Calderwell, of course; and probably that tiresome Alice Greggory was mixed up in it somehow. He did wish Billy Six o'clock came, then half-past. Bertram was indeed frightened now, but he was more angry, and still more hungry. He had, in fact, reached that state of blind unreasonableness said to be peculiar to hungry males from time immemorial.
"And please let me take this opportunity right now to apologize for my daughter. She was overwrought and excited. She didn't know what she was saying or doing, I'm sure. She was ashamed, I think after you left." Billy raised a quick hand of protest. "Don't, please don't, Mrs. Greggory," she begged. "But it was our fault that you came. We asked you to come through Mr.
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