To my surprise, when I came to Prof. Bedwen's house on Tuesday morning, the housekeeper opened the door for me. She even let me in.
"I came to have breakfast with Billie," I informed her, taking off my coat and gloves. She collected them from me, stiffly.
"Of course. Please follow me." She said, after giving my clothes to a maid, and escorting me to the dining room.
Breakfast had been served. Grandpa was sitting, reading the newspaper. Billie was sitting at the table, drumming the fork on the table.
"Dana! You came!" he said, eagerly standing up.
Grandpa looked over his newspaper.
"Ah, Miss Bedwen. There you are. Billie didn't want to start breakfast without you. Please sit down. Bettie, you can serve breakfast."
Billie ate breakfast like a champ. I helped him manage the fork and kn
