"Dear, dear, what shall I do! Pete, you'll have to come.

There isn't any other way!" "Yes, Miss; where ?" Pete's voice was dubious, but respectful.
"To the Boylston Street subway--on the Common, you know--North-bound side.

I'll wait for you--but HURRY! You see, I'm all alone here." "Alone! Miss Billy--in the subway at this time of night! But, Miss Billy, you shouldn't--you can't--you mustn't--" stuttered the old man in helpless horror.
"Yes, yes, Pete, but never mind; I am here! And I should think if 'twas such a dreadful thing you would hurry FAST to get here, so I wouldn't be alone," appealed Billy.
With an inarticulate cry Pete jerked the receiver on to the hook, and stumbled away from the telephone.

Five minutes later he had left the house and was hurrying through the Common to the Boylston Street subway station.
Billy, a long cloak thrown over her white dress, was waiting for him.
Her white slippers tapped the platform nervously, and her hair, under the light scarf of lace, fluffed into little broken curls as if it had been blown by the wind.
"Miss Billy, Miss Billy, what can this mean ?" gasped the man.

"Where is Mrs.Stetson ?" "At Mrs.Hartwell's--you know she is giving a reception to-night.