“Bless your dear heart! Aunt Hannah would call for a dozen shawls in that place--if she had breath enough to call for any after she got to the top of those four flights!” “Yes, I suppose so,” rejoined Bertram, with an unwilling smile. “Still--well, you _can_ take Rosa,” he concluded decisively. “How Miss Alice would like that--to catch me going 'slumming' with my maid!” cried Billy, righteous indignation in her voice. “Honestly, Bertram, I think even gentle Mrs. Greggory wouldn't stand for that.” “Then leave Rosa outside in the hall,” planned Bertram, promptly; and after a few more arguments, Billy finally agreed to this. It was with Rosa, therefore, that she set out the next morning for the little room up four flights on the narrow West End street. Leaving the maid on the top stair of the fourth flight, Billy tapped at Mrs. Greggory's door. To her joy Mrs. Greggory herself answered the knock. “Oh! Why--why, good morning,” murmured the lady, in evident embarrassment. “Won't you--come m?” “Thank you. May I?--just a minute?” smiled Billy, brightly. As she entered the room, Billy threw a hasty look about her. There was no one but themselves present. With a sigh of satisfaction, therefore, the girl took the chair Mrs. Greggory offered, and began to speak. “I was down this way--that is, I came this way this morning,” she began a little hastily; “and I wanted just to come up and tell you how sorry I was about--about that teapot the other day. We didn't want it, of course--if you didn't want us to have it.” A swift change crossed Mrs. Greggory's perturbed face. “Oh, then you didn't come for it again--to-day,” she said. “I'm so glad! I didn't want to refuse--_you_.” “Indeed I didn't come for it--and we sha'n't again. Don't worry about that, please.” Mrs. Greggory sighed. “I'm afraid you thought me very rude and--and impossible the other day,” she stammered. “And please let me take this opportunity right now to apologize for my daughter. She was overwrought and excited. She didn't know what she was saying or doing, I'm sure. She was ashamed, I think after you left.” Billy raised a quick hand of protest. “Don't, please don't, Mrs. Greggory,” she begged. “But it was our fault that you came. We _asked_ you to come--through Mr. Harlow,” rejoined the other, hurriedly. “And Mr. Henshaw--was that his name?--was so kind in every way. I'm glad of this chance to tell you how much we really did appreciate it--and _your_ offer, too, which we could not, of course, accept,” she finished, the bright color flooding her delicate face. Again Billy raised a protesting hand; but the little woman in the opposite chair hurried on. There was still more, evidently, that she wished to say. “I hope Mr. Henshaw did not feel too disappointed--about the Lowestoft. We didn't want to let it go if we could help it; and we hope now to keep it.” “Of course,” murmured Billy, sympathetically.