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139 pages

English

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A young woman is orphaned and has no surviving family members to turn to. Desperate and alone, she reaches out to the only "family" she has left -- a college chum of her father's, after whom she was named. Based on the name she signs at the bottom of the letter she sends to him, William Henshaw insists that she come to live with him and his brothers. When she arrives at the house and Henshaw realizes his error, everyone has some adjusting to do. Will this makeshift family be able to make it work?

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Children's

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Publié par	The Floating Press
Date de parution	01 octobre 2012
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781775561866
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0134€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

MISS BILLY
* * *
ELEANOR H. PORTER

*
Miss Billy First published in 1911 ISBN 978-1-77556-186-6 © 2012 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
*
Chapter I - Billy Writes a Letter Chapter II - "The Strata" Chapter III - The Strata—When the Letter Comes Chapter IV - Billy Sends a Telegram Chapter V - Getting Ready for Billy Chapter VI - The Coming of Billy Chapter VII - Introducing Spunk Chapter VIII - The Room—And Billy Chapter IX - A Family Conclave Chapter X - Aunt Hannah Chapter XI - Bertram Has Visitors Chapter XII - Cyril Takes His Turn Chapter XIII - A Surprise All Around Chapter XIV - Aunt Hannah Speaks Her Mind Chapter XV - What Bertram Calls "the Limit" Chapter XVI - Kate Takes a Hand Chapter XVII - A Pink-Ribbon Trail Chapter XVIII - Billy Writes Another Letter Chapter XIX - Seeing Billy Off Chapter XX - Billy, the Myth Chapter XXI - Billy, the Reality Chapter XXII - Hugh Calderwell Chapter XXIII - Bertram Does Some Questioning Chapter XXIV - Cyril, the Enigma Chapter XXV - The Old Room—And Billy Chapter XXVI - "Music Hath Charms" Chapter XXVII - Marie, Who Longs to Make Puddings Chapter XXVIII - "I'm Going to Win" Chapter XXIX - "I'm Not Going to Marry" Chapter XXX - Marie Finds a Friend Chapter XXXI - The Engagement of One Chapter XXXII - Cyril Has Something to Say Chapter XXXIII - William is Worried Chapter XXXIV - Class Day Chapter XXXV - Sister Kate Again Chapter XXXVI - William Meets with a Surprise Chapter XXXVII - "William's Brother" Chapter XXXVIII - The Engagement of Two Chapter XXXIX - A Little Piece of Paper Chapter XL - William Pays a Visit Chapter XLI - The Crooked Made Straight Chapter XLII - The "End of the Story"
Chapter I - Billy Writes a Letter
*
Billy Neilson was eighteen years old when the aunt, who had brought herup from babyhood, died. Miss Benton's death left Billy quite alonein the world—alone, and peculiarly forlorn. To Mr. James Harding,of Harding & Harding, who had charge of Billy's not inconsiderableproperty, the girl poured out her heart in all its loneliness two daysafter the funeral.
"You see, Mr. Harding, there isn't any one—not any one who—cares," shechoked.
"Tut, tut, my child, it's not so bad as that, surely," remonstrated theold man, gently. "Why, I—I care."
Billy smiled through tear-wet eyes.
"But I can't LIVE with you," she said.
"I'm not so sure of that, either," retorted the man. "I'm thinking thatLetty and Ann would LIKE to have you with us."
The girl laughed now outright. She was thinking of Miss Letty, who had"nerves," and of Miss Ann, who had a "heart"; and she pictured her ownyoung, breezy, healthy self attempting to conform to the hushed andshaded thing that life was, within Lawyer Harding's home.
"Thank you, but I'm sure they wouldn't," she objected. "You don't knowhow noisy I am."
The lawyer stirred restlessly and pondered.
"But, surely, my dear, isn't there some relative, somewhere?" hedemanded. "How about your mother's people?"
Billy shook her head. Her eyes filled again with tears.
"There was only Aunt Ella, ever, that I knew anything about. She andmother were the only children there were, and mother died when I was ayear old, you know."
"But your father's people?"
"It's even worse there. He was an only child and an orphan when mothermarried him. He died when I was but six months old. After that there wasonly mother and Aunt Ella, then Aunt Ella alone; and now—no one."
"And you know nothing of your father's people?"
"Nothing; that is—almost nothing."
"Then there is some one?"
Billy smiled. A deeper pink showed in her cheeks.
"Why, there's one—a man but he isn't really father's people, anyway.But I—I have been tempted to write to him."
"Who is he?"
"The one I'm named for. He was father's boyhood chum. You see that's whyI'm 'Billy' instead of being a proper 'Susie,' or 'Bessie,' or 'SallyJane.' Father had made up his mind to name his baby 'William' after hischum, and when I came, Aunt Ella said, he was quite broken-hearted untilsomebody hit upon the idea of naming me Billy.' Then he was content, forit seems that he always called his chum 'Billy' anyhow. And so—'Billy'I am to-day."
"Do you know this man?"
"No. You see father died, and mother and Aunt Ella knew him only veryslightly. Mother knew his wife, though, Aunt Ella said, and SHE waslovely."
"Hm—; well, we might look them up, perhaps. You know his address?"
"Oh, yes unless he's moved. We've always kept that. Aunt Ella used tosay sometimes that she was going to write to him some day about me, youknow."
"What's his name?"
"William Henshaw. He lives in Boston."
Lawyer Harding snatched off his glasses, and leaned forward in hischair.
"William Henshaw! Not the Beacon Street Henshaws!" he cried.
It was Billy's turn to be excited. She, too, leaned forward eagerly.
"Oh, do you know him? That's lovely! And his address IS Beacon Street! Iknow because I saw it only to-day. You see, I HAVE been tempted to writehim."
"Write him? Of course you'll write him," cried the lawyer. "And we don'tneed to do much 'looking up' there, child. I've known the family foryears, and this William was a college mate of my boy's. Nice fellow,too. I've heard Ned speak of him. There were three sons, William, andtwo others much younger than he. I've forgotten their names."
"Then you do know him! I'm so glad," exclaimed Billy. "You see, he neverseemed to me quite real."
"I know about him," corrected the lawyer, smilingly, "though I'llconfess I've rather lost track of him lately. Ned will know. I'll askNed. Now go home, my dear, and dry those pretty eyes of yours. Or,better still, come home with me to tea. I—I'll telephone up to thehouse." And he rose stiffly and went into the inner office.
Some minutes passed before he came back, red of face, and plainlydistressed.
"My dear child, I—I'm sorry, but—but I'll have to take back thatinvitation," he blurted out miserably. "My sisters are—are not wellthis afternoon. Ann has been having a turn with her heart—you knowAnn's heart is—is bad; and Letty—Letty is always nervous at suchtimes—very nervous. Er—I'm so sorry! But you'll—excuse it?"
"Indeed I will," smiled Billy, "and thank you just the same; only"—hereyes twinkled mischievously—"you don't mind if I do say that it ISlucky that we hadn't gone on planning to have me live with them, Mr.Harding!"
"Eh? Well—er, I think your plan about the Henshaws is very good,"he interposed hurriedly. "I'll speak to Ned—I'll speak to Ned," hefinished, as he ceremoniously bowed the girl from the office.
James Harding kept his word, and spoke to his son that night; but therewas little, after all, that Ned could tell him. Yes, he remembered BillyHenshaw well, but he had not heard of him for years, since Henshaw'smarriage, in fact. He must be forty years old, Ned said; but he was afine fellow, an exceptionally fine fellow, and would be sure to dealkindly and wisely by his little orphan namesake; of that Ned was verysure.
"That's good. I'll write him," declared Mr. James Harding. "I'll writehim tomorrow."
He did write—but not so soon as Billy wrote; for even as he spoke,Billy, in her lonely little room at the other end of the town, waslaying bare all her homesickness in four long pages to "Dear UncleWilliam."
Chapter II - "The Strata"
*
Bertram Henshaw called the Beacon Street home "The Strata." This annoyedCyril, and even William, not a little; though they reflected that, afterall, it was "only Bertram." For the whole of Bertram's twenty-four yearsof life it had been like this—"It's only Bertram," had been at once thecurse and the salvation of his existence.
In this particular case, however, Bertram's vagary of fancy had someexcuse. The Beacon Street house, the home of the three brothers, was a"Strata."
"You see, it's like this," Bertram would explain airily to some newacquaintance who expressed surprise at the name; "if I could slice offthe front of the house like a loaf of cake, you'd understand it better.But just suppose that old Bunker Hill should suddenly spout fire andbrimstone and bury us under tons of ashes—only fancy the condition ofmind of those future archaeologists when they struck our house aftertheir months of digging!
"What would they find? Listen. First: stratum number one, the top floor;that's Cyril's, you know. They'd note the bare floors, the sparse butheavy furniture, the piano, the violin, the flute, the book-lined walls,and the absence of every sort of curtain, cushion, or knickknack. 'Herelived a plain man,' they'd say; 'a scholar, a musician, stern, unlovedand unloving; a monk.'
"And what next? They'd strike William's stratum next, the third floor.Imagine it! You know William as a State Street broker, well-off,a widower, tall, angular, slow of speech, a little bald, very muchnearsighted, and the owner of the kindest heart in the world. But reallyto know William, you must know his rooms. William collects things. Hehas always collected things—and he's saved every one of them. There's atradition that at the age of one year he crept into the house with foursmall round white stones. Anyhow, if he did, he's got them now. Restassured of that—and he's forty this year. Miniatures, carved ivories,bugs, moths, porcelains, jades, stamps, postcards, spoons, baggage tags,theatre programs, playing-cards—there isn't anything that he doesn'tcollect. He's on teapots, now. Imagine it—William and teapots! Andthey're all there in his rooms—one glorious