There must _no one_ speak to her of it, yet.

That she could not endure.

Aunt Hannah would, of course, shiver, groan "Oh, my grief and conscience!" and call for another shawl; and Billy just now felt as if she should scream if she heard Aunt Hannah say "Oh, my grief and conscience!"-- over that.

Billy went down to breakfast, therefore, with a determination to act exactly as usual, so that Aunt Hannah should not know--yet.
When people try to "act exactly as usual," they generally end in acting quite the opposite; and Billy was no exception to the rule.

Hence her attempted cheerfulness became flippantness, and her laughter giggles that rang too frequently to be quite sincere--though from Aunt Hannah it all elicited only an affectionate smile at "the dear child's high spirits." A little later, when Aunt Hannah was glancing over the morning paper--now no longer barred from the door--she gave a sudden cry.
"Billy, just listen to this!" she exclaimed, reading from the paper in her hand.