70
ith some asperity. ``Just as if there could be a new pose after all those she tried last year!''
Immediately after luncheon Pete and Eliza started for South Boston to pay a visit to Eliza's mother, and it was soon after they left the house that Bertram called his wife up again.
``Say, dearie, I forgot to tell you,'' he began, ``but I met an old friend in the subway this morning, and I--well, I remembered what you said about bringing 'em home to dinner next time, so I asked him for to-night. Do you mind? It's--''
``Mind? Of course not! I'm glad you did,'' plunged in Billy, with feverish eagerness. (Even now, just the bare mention of anything connected with that awful ``test'' night was enough to set Billy's nerves to tingling.) ``I want you to always bring them home, Bertram.''
``All right, dear. We'll be there at six o'clock then. It's--it's Calderwell, this time. You remember Calderwell, of course.''
``Not--Hugh Calderwell?'' Billy's question was a little faint.
``Sure!'' Bertram laughed oddly, and lowered his voice. ``I suspect once I wouldn't have brought him home to you. I was too jealous. But now--well, now maybe I want him to see what he's lost.''
``_Bertram!_''
But Bertram only laughed mischievously, and called a gay ``Good-by till to-night, then!''
Billy, at her end of the wires, hung up the receiver and backed against the wall a little palpitatingly.
Calderwell! To dinner--Calderwell! Did she remember Calderwell? Did she, indeed! As if one could easily forget the man that, for a year or two, had proposed marriage as regularly (and almost as lightly!) as he had torn a monthly leaf from his calendar! Besides, was it not he, too, who had said that Bertram would never love any girl, _really_; that it would be only the tilt of her chin or the turn of her head that he loved--to paint? And now he was coming to dinner--and with Bertram.
Very well, he should see! He should see that Bertram did love her