Chapter 17: A Pink-Ribbon Trail

Mrs. Stetson wore an air of unmistakable relief as she stepped into William’s sitting-room. Even her knock at the half-open door had sounded almost triumphant.

“William, it does seem as if Fate itself had intervened to help us out,” she began delightedly. “Billy, of her own accord, came to me this morning, and said that she wanted to go away with me for a little trip. So you see that will make it easier for us.”

“Good! That is fortunate, indeed,” cried William; but his voice did not carry quite the joy that his words expressed. “I have been disturbed ever since your remarks the other day,” he continued wearily; “and of course her extraordinary escapade the next evening did not help matters any. It is better, I know, that she shouldn’t be here—for a time. Though I shall miss her terribly. But, tell me, what is it—what does she want to do?”

“She says she guesses she is homesick for Hampden Falls; that she’d like to go back there for a few weeks this summer if I’ll go with her. The—the dear child seems suddenly to have taken a great fancy to me,” explained Aunt Hannah, unsteadily. “I never saw her so affectionate.”

“She is a dear girl—a very dear girl; and she has a warm heart.” William cleared his throat sonorously, but even that did not clear his voice. “It was her heart that led her wrong the other night,” he declared. “Hers was a brave and fearless act—but a very unwise one. Much as I deplore Bertram’s intimacy with Seaver, I should hesitate to take the course marked out by Billy. Bertram is not a child. But tell me more of this trip of yours. How did Billy happen to suggest it?”