“I hope I'll find out that she's really good--at teaching, I mean--the daughter,” resumed Billy, after a moment's pause. “If she is, there's one thing I can do to help, anyhow. I can get some of Marie's old pupils for her. I _know_ some of them haven't begun with a new teacher, yet; and Mrs. Carleton told me last Friday that neither she nor her sister was at all satisfied with the one their girls _have_ taken. They'd change, I know, in a minute, at my recommendation--that is, of course, if I can _give_ the recommendation,” continued Billy, with a troubled frown. “Anyhow, I'm going down to begin operations to-morrow.” CHAPTER XXI. A MATTER OF STRAIGHT BUSINESS True to her assertion, Billy went down to the Greggorys' the next day. This time she did not take Rosa with her. Even Aunt Hannah conceded that it would not be necessary. She had not been gone ten minutes, however, when the telephone bell rang, and Rosa came to say that Mr. Bertram Henshaw wanted to speak with Mrs. Stetson. “Rosa says that Billy's not there,” called Bertram's aggrieved voice, when Aunt Hannah had said, “Good morning, my boy.” “Dear me, no, Bertram. She's in a fever of excitement this morning. She'll probably tell you all about it when you come out here to-night. You _are_ coming out to-night, aren't you?” “Yes; oh, yes! But what is it? Where's she gone?” Aunt Hannah laughed softly. “Well, she's gone down to the Greggorys'.” “The Greggorys'! What--again?” “Oh, you might as well get used to it, Bertram,” bantered Aunt Hannah, “for there'll be a good many 'agains,' I fancy.” “Why, Aunt Hannah, what do you mean?” Bertram's voice was not quite pleased. “Oh, she'll tell you. It's only that the Greggorys have turned out to be old friends of Mr. Arkwright's.” “_Friends_ of Arkwright's!” Bertram's voice was decidedly displeased now. “Yes; and there's quite a story to it all, as well. Billy is wildly excited, as you'd know she would be. You'll hear all about it to-night, of course.” “Yes, of course,” echoed Bertram. But there was no ring of enthusiasm in his voice, neither then, nor when he said good-by a moment later. Billy, meanwhile, on her way to the Greggory home, was, as Aunt Hannah had said, “wildly excited.” It seemed so strange and wonderful and delightful--the whole affair: that she should have found them because of a Lowestoft teapot, that Arkwright should know them, and that there should be the chance now that she might help them--in some way; though this last, she knew, could be accomplished only through the exercise of the greatest tact and delicacy. She had not forgotten that Arkwright had told her of their hatred of pity.