“I'm afraid I'll have to take it, Pete, unless you want to carry it back with you,” she smiled. “I'll see that Miss Hawthorn has it the very first moment she comes in.”
“Thank you, Miss. It does my old eyes good to see your bright face.” He hesitated, then turned slowly. “Good day, Miss Billy.”
Billy laid the package on the table. Her eyes were thoughtful as she looked after the old man, who was now almost to the door. Something in his bowed form appealed to her strangely. She took a quick step toward him.
“You'll miss Mr. Cyril, Pete,” she said pleasantly.
The old man stopped at once and turned. He lifted his head a little proudly.
“Yes, Miss. I--I was there when he was born. Mr. Cyril's a fine man.”
“Indeed he is. Perhaps it's your good care that's helped, some--to make him so,” smiled the girl, vaguely wishing that she could say something that would drive the wistful look from the dim old eyes before her.
For a moment Billy thought she had succeeded. The old servant drew himself stiffly erect. In his eyes shone the loyal pride of more than fifty years' honest service. Almost at once, however, the pride died away, and the wistfulness returned.
“Thank ye, Miss; but I don't lay no claim to that, of course,” he said. “Mr. Cyril's a fine man, and we shall miss him; but--I cal'late changes must come--to all of us.”
The old man hesitated; then, as if impelled by some hidden force, he plunged on:
“Yes; and they'll be comin' to you one of these days, Miss, and that's what I was wantin' to speak to ye about. I understand, of course, that when you get there you'll be wantin' younger blood to serve ye. My feet ain't so spry as they once was, and my old hands blunder sometimes, in spite of what my head bids 'em do. So I wanted to tell ye--that of course I shouldn't expect to stay. I'd go.”
As he said the words, Pete stood with head and shoulders erect, his eyes looking straight forward but not at Billy.
“Don't you _want_ to stay?” The girlish voice was a little reproachful.
“Not if--I'm not wanted,” came the husky reply.
With an impulsive movement Billy came straight to the old man's side and held out her hand.
Amazement, incredulity, and a look that was almost terror crossed the old man's face; then a flood of dull red blotted them all out and left only worshipful rapture. With a choking cry he took the slim little hand in both his rough and twisted ones much as if he were possessing himself of a treasured bit of eggshell china.