And Aunt Hannah could only go up-stairs and meditate on the unreasonableness of lovers in general, and of Bertram in particular.
Aunt Hannah had gone to bed, but she was still awake, when Billy came home, so she heard the automobile come to a stop before the door, and she called to Billy when the girl came upstairs.
"Billy, dear, come in here.

I'm awake! I want to hear about it.

Was it good ?" Billy stopped in the doorway.

The light from the hall struck her face.
There was no brightness in her eyes now, no pink in her cheeks.
"Oh, yes, it was good--very good," she replied listlessly.
"Why, Billy, how queer you answer! What was the matter?
Wasn't Mary Jane--all right ?" "Mary Jane?
Oh!--oh, yes; he was very good, Aunt Hannah." "'Very good,' indeed!" echoed the lady, indignantly.

"He must have been!--when you speak as if you'd actually forgotten that he sang at all, anyway!" Billy had forgotten--almost.