His face showed very clearly that he did not know what to do, or what to say; but it showed, too, as clearly, that he longed to do something, or say something.

During the brief minute that he hesitated, however, Billy sprang forward.
"Mrs.Greggory, please, won't you let _me_ buy the teapot?
And then--won't you keep it for me--here?
I haven't the hundred dollars with me, but I'll send it right away.

You will let me do it, won't you ?" It was an impulsive speech, and a foolish one, of course, from the standpoint of sense and logic and reasonableness; but it was one that might be expected, perhaps, from Billy.
Mrs.Greggory must have divined, in a way, the spirit that prompted it, for her eyes grew wet, and with a choking "Dear child!" she reached out and caught Billy's hand in both her own--even while she shook her head in denial.
Not so her daughter.

Alice Greggory flushed scarlet.

She drew herself proudly erect.
"Thank you," she said with crisp coldness; "but, distasteful as darns and patches are to us, we prefer them, infinitely, to--charity!" "Oh, but, please, I didn't mean--you didn't understand," faltered Billy.
For answer Alice Greggory walked deliberately to the door and held it open.
"Oh, Alice, my dear," pleaded Mrs.Greggory again, feebly.
"Come, Billy! We'll bid you good morning, ladies," said William Henshaw then, decisively.