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.
In the sober second thought of the morning, Billy was not sure now of a possible romance in connection with Arkwright and the daughter, Alice; but she had by no means abandoned the idea, and she meant to keep her eyes open--and if there should be a chance to bring such a thing about--! Meanwhile, of course, she should not mention the matter, even to Bertram.
Just what would be her method of procedure this first morning, Billy had not determined.