She would speak to Mrs.Greggory if ever the opportunity offered.

Great was her joy, therefore, when, a day or two after the Greggorys arrived at the house, Mrs.Greggory's chance reference to Arkwright and her daughter gave Billy the opportunity she sought.
"They used to know each other long ago, Mr.Arkwright tells me," Billy began warily.
"Yes." The quietly polite monosyllable was not very encouraging, to be sure; but Billy, secure in her conviction that her cause was a righteous one, refused to be daunted.
"I think it was so romantic--their running across each other like this, Mrs.Greggory," she murmured.

"And there _was_ a romance, wasn't there?
I have just felt in my bones that there was--a romance!" Billy held her breath.

It was what she had meant to say, but now that she had said it, the words seemed very fearsome indeed--to say to Mrs.
Greggory.

Then Billy remembered her Cause, and took heart--Billy was spelling it now with a capital C.
For a long minute Mrs.Greggory did not answer--for so long a minute that Billy's breath dropped into a fluttering sigh, and her Cause became suddenly "IMPERTINENCE" spelled in black capitals.