As she had hoped, Alice Greggory's eyes, after they had glanced half-way through the first page, sought the name at the left side below the title.
“'Words by M. J.--'”--there was a visible start, and a pause before the “'Arkwright'” was uttered in a slightly different tone.
Billy noted both the start and the pause--and gloried in them.
“Yes; the words are by M. J. Arkwright,” she said with smooth unconcern, but with a covert glance at the other's face. “Ever hear of him?”
Alice Greggory gave a short little laugh.
“Probably not--this one. I used to know an M. J. Arkwright, long ago; but he wasn't--a poet, so far as I know,” she finished, with a little catch in her breath that made Billy long to take her into a warm embrace.
Alice Greggory turned then to the music. She had much to say of this--very much; but she had nothing more whatever to say of Mr. M. J. Arkwright in spite of the tempting conversation bait that Billy dropped so freely. After that, Rosa brought in tea and toast, and the little frosted cakes that were always such a favorite with Billy's guests. Then Alice Greggory said good-by--her eyes full of tears that Billy pretended not to see.
“There!” breathed Billy, as soon as she had Aunt Hannah to herself again. “What did I tell you? Did you see Miss Greggory's start and blush and hear her sigh just over the _name_ of M. J. Arkwright? Just as if--! Now I want them to meet; only it must be casual, Aunt Hannah--casual! And I'd rather wait till Mary Jane hears from his mother, if possible, so if there _is_ anything good to tell the poor girl, he can tell it.”
“Yes, of course. Dear child!--I hope he can,” murmured Aunt Hannah. (Aunt Hannah had ceased now trying to make Billy refrain from the reprehensible “Mary Jane.” In fact, if the truth were known, Aunt Hannah herself in her thoughts--and sometimes in her words--called him “Mary Jane.”) “But, indeed, my dear, I didn't see anything stiff, or--or repelling about Miss Greggory, as you said there was.”
“There wasn't--to-day,” smiled Billy. “Honestly, Aunt Hannah, I should never have known her for the same girl--who showed me the door that first morning,” she finished merrily, as she turned to go up-stairs.
It was the next day that Cyril and Marie came home from their honeymoon. They went directly to their pretty little apartment on Beacon Street, Brookline, within easy walking distance of Billy's own cozy home.