“Always affectionately yours, Rachael.”

Three days elapsed after this letter was dispatched, and Rachael had time to wonder with a little chill if she had been too cordial to Billy, and if Billy were laughing her cool little laugh at her one-time step-mother’s hospitality and moralizing.

But as a matter of fact, the invitation could not have been more happily timed for young Mrs. Pickering.  Billy, without any further notice to Magsie, had been to see Magsie’s manager, coolly betraying her friend’s marriage plans, pledging the angry and bewildered Bowman to secrecy, and applying for the position on her own account in the course of one brief visit.

Bowman would not commit himself to engaging Billy, but he was infinitely obliged to her for the news of Magsie, and told her so frankly.

It was when she returned home from this call, and hot and weary, was trying to break an absolute promise to the boy, involving the Zoo and ice-cream, that Rachael’s letter arrived.

Billy read it through, sat thinking hard, and presently read it again.  The softest expression her rather hard young face ever knew came over it as she sat there.  This was terribly decent of Rachael, thought Billy.  She must be the busiest and happiest woman in the world, and yet her heart had gone out to little Breck.  The last line, however, meant more than all the rest, just now, to Billy Pickering.  She was impressionable, and not given to finding out the truths of life for herself.  Rachael’s opinions she had always respected.  And now Rachael admitted that life was all mistakes, and added that heartening line about paying for them, and doing better.

“’Cause I am so hot—­and I never had any lunch—­and you said you would!” fretted the little boy, flinging himself against her, and sending a wave of heat through her clothing as he did so.

“Listen, Breck,” she said suddenly, catching him lightly in her arm, and smiling down at him, “would you like to go down and stay with the Gregory boys?”

“I don’t know ’em,” said Breck doubtfully.

“Down on the ocean shore,” Billy went on, “where you could go in bathing every day, and roll in the surf, and picnic, and sleep out of doors!”

“Did they ask me?” he demanded excitedly.

“Their mother did, and she says that you can stay as long as you’re a good boy, down there where it’s nice and cool, digging in the sand, and going bare foot—­”

“I’ll be the best boy you ever saw!” Breck sputtered eagerly.  “I’ll work for her, and I’ll make the other kids work for her—­ she’ll tell you she never saw such a good boy!  And I’ll write you letters—­”