WHEN BERTRAM CAME HOME
It was a little after half-past three o'clock that afternoon when Bertram Henshaw hurried up Beacon Street toward his home. He had been delayed, and he feared that Miss Winthrop would already have reached the house. Mindful of what Billy had said that morning, he knew how his wife would fret if he were not there when the guest arrived. The sight of what he surmised to be Miss Winthrop's limousine before his door hastened his steps still more. But as he reached the house, he was surprised to find Miss Winthrop herself turning away from the door.
``Why, Miss Winthrop,'' he cried, ``you're not going _now!_ You can't have been here any--yet!''
``Well, no, I--I haven't,'' retorted the lady, with heightened color and a somewhat peculiar emphasis. ``My ring wasn't answered.''
``Wasn't answered!'' Bertram reddened angrily. ``Why, what can that mean? Where's the maid? Where's my wife? Mrs. Henshaw must be here! She was expecting you.''
Bertram, in his annoyed amazement, spoke loudly, vehemently. Hence he was quite plainly heard by the group of small boys and girls who had been improving the mild weather for a frolic on the sidewalk, and who had been attracted to his door a moment before by the shining magnet of the Winthrop limousine with its resplendently liveried chauffeur. As Bertram spoke, one of the small girls, Bessie Bailey, stepped forward and piped up a shrill reply.
``She ain't, Mr. Henshaw! She ain't here.
I saw her go away just a little while ago.''
Bertram turned sharply.
``You saw her go away! What do you mean?''
Small Bessie swelled with importance. Bessie was thirteen, in spite of her diminutive height.
Bessie's mother was dead, and Bessie's caretakers were gossiping nurses and servants, who frequently left in her way books that were much too old for Bessie to read--but she read them.
``I mean she ain't here--your wife, Mr. Henshaw.
She went away. I saw her. I guess likely she's eloped, sir.''
``Eloped!''
Bessie swelled still more importantly. To her experienced eyes the situation contained all the necessary elements for the customary flight of the heroine in her story-books, as here, now, was the irate, deserted husband.
``Sure! And 'twas just before you came--quite a while before. A big shiny black automobile like this drove up--only it wasn't quite such a nice one--an' Mrs. Henshaw an' a man came out of your house an' got in, an' drove right away _quick!_ They just ran to get into it, too--didn't they?'' She appealed to her young mates grouped about her.
A chorus of shrill exclamations brought Mr.
Bertram Henshaw suddenly to his senses. By a desperate effort he hid his angry annoyance as he turned to the manifestly embarrassed young woman who was already descending the steps.
``My dear Miss Winthrop,'' he apologized contritely, ``I'm sure you'll forgive this seeming great rudeness on the part of my wife. Notwithstanding the lurid tales of our young friends here, I suspect nothing more serious has happened than that my wife has been hastily summoned to Aunt Hannah, perhaps. Or, of course, she may not have understood that you were coming to-day at half-past three--though I thought she did.
But I'm so sorry--when you were so kind as to come--'' Miss Winthrop interrupted with a quick gesture.
``Say no more, I beg of you,'' she entreated.
``Mrs. Henshaw is quite excusable, I'm sure.
Please don't give it another thought,'' she finished, as with a hurried direction to the man who was holding open the door of her car, she stepped inside and bowed her good-byes.
Bertram, with stern self-control, forced himself to walk nonchalantly up his steps, leisurely take out his key, and open his door, under the interested eyes of Bessie Bailey and her friends;but once beyond their hateful stare, his demeanor underwent a complete change. Throwing aside his hat and coat, he strode to the telephone.
``Oh, is that you, Aunt Hannah?'' he called crisply, a moment later. ``Well, if Billy's there will you tell her I want to speak to her, please?''
``Billy?'' answered Aunt Hannah's slow, gentle tones. ``Why, my dear boy, Billy isn't here!''
``She isn't? Well, when did she leave? She's been there, hasn't she?''
``Why, I don't think so, but I'll see, if you like. Mrs. Greggory and I have just this minute come in from an automobile ride. We would have stayed longer, but it began to get chilly, and I forgot to take one of the shawls that I'd laid out.''
``Yes; well, if you will see, please, if Billy has been there, and when she left,'' said Bertram, with grim self-control.
``All right. I'll see,'' murmured Aunt Hannah.
