held her breath. It was what she had meant to say, but now that
she had said it, the words seemed very fearsome indeed--to say to Mrs.
Greggory. Then Billy remembered her Cause, and took heart--Billy was
spelling it now with a capital C.

For a long minute Mrs. Greggory did not answer--for so long a minute
that Billy's breath dropped into a fluttering sigh, and her Cause became
suddenly "IMPERTINENCE" spelled in black capitals. Then Mrs. Greggory
spoke slowly, a little sadly.

"I don't mind saying to you that I did hope, once, that there would be a
romance there. They were the best of friends, and they were well-suited
to each other in tastes and temperament. I think, indeed, that the
romance was well under way (though there was never an engagement)
when--" Mrs. Greggory paused and wet her lips. Her voice, when she
resumed, carried the stern note so familiar to Billy in her first
acquaintance with this woman and her daughter. "As I presume
Mr. Arkwright has told you, we have met with many changes in our
life--changes which necessitated a new home and a new mode of
living. Naturally, under those circumstances, old friends--and old
romances--must change, too."

"But, Mrs. Greggory," stammered Billy, "I'm sure Mr. Arkwright would
want--" An up-lifted hand silenced her peremptorily.

"Mr. Arkwright was very kind, and a gentleman, always," interposed the
lady, coldly; "but Judge Greggory's daughter would not allow herself
to be placed where apologies for her father would be necessary--_ever!_
There, please, dear Miss Neilson, let us not talk of it any more,"
begged Mrs. Greggory, brokenly.

"No, indeed, of course not!" cried Billy; but her heart rejoiced.

She understood it all now. Arkwright and Alice Greggory had been almost
lovers when the charges against the Judge's honor had plunged the family
into despairing humiliation. Then had come the time when, according
to Arkwright's own story, the two women had shut themselves indoors,
refused to see their friends, and left town as soon as possible. Thus
had come the breaking of whatever tie there was between Alice Greggory
and Arkwright. Not to have broken it would have meant, for Alice, the
placing of herself in a position where, sometime, apologies must be made
for her father. This was what Mrs. Greggory had meant--and again, as
Billy thought of it, Billy's heart rejoiced.

Was not her way clear now before her? Did she not have it in her power,
possibly--even probab