which they’re paid for every passenger, and their profit every year is greater than the cost of the bridge.  The son was the head of the family when I came in; and I found that he had it all arranged to leave thirty million dollars to one of his sons, and only ten million to my husband.  I set to work to change that, I can tell you.  I used to go around to see him, and scratch his back and tickle him and make him feel good.  Of course the family went wild—­my, how they hated me!  They set old Ellis to work to keep me off—­have you met Judge Ellis?”

“I have,” said Montague.

“Well, there’s a pussy-footed old hypocrite for you,” said Mrs. Billy.  “In those days he was Waiting’s business lackey—­used to pass the money to the legislators and keep the wheels of the machine greased.  One of the first things I said to the old man was that I didn’t ask him to entertain my butler, and he mustn’t ask me to entertain his valet—­and so I forbid Ellis to enter my house.  And when I found that he was trying to get between the old man and me, I flew into a rage and boxed his ears and chased him out of the room!”

Mrs. Billy paused, and laughed heartily over the recollection.  “Of course that tickled the old man to death,” she continued.  “The Wallings never could make out how I managed to get round him as I did; but it was simply because I was honest with him.  They’d come snivelling round, pretending they were anxious about his health; while I wanted his money, and I told him so.”

The valiant lady turned to the decanter.  “Have some Scotch?” she asked, and poured some for herself, and then went on with her story.  “When I first came to New York,” she said, “the rich people’s houses were all alike—­all dreary brownstone fronts, sandwiched in on one or two city lots.  I vowed that I would have a house with some room all around it—­and that was the beginning of those palaces that all New York walks by and stares at.  You can hardly believe it now—­those houses were a scandal!  But the sensation tickled the old man.  I remember one day we walked up the Avenue to see how they were coming on; and he pointed with his big stick to the second floor, and asked, ‘What’s that?’ I answered, ’It’s a safe I’m building into the house.’ (That was a new thing, too, in those days.)—­’I’m going to keep my money in that,’ I said.  ‘Bah!’ he growled, ’when you’re done with this house, you won’t have any money left.’—­’I’m planning to make you fill it for me,’ I answered; and do you know, he chuckled all the way home over it!”

Mrs. Billy sat laughing softly to herself.  “We had great old battles in those days,” she said.  “Among other things, I had to put the Waitings into Society.  They were sneaking round on the outside when I came—­licking people’s boots and expecting to be kicked.  I said to myself, I’ll put an end to that—­we’ll have a show-down!  So I gave a ball that made the whole country sit up and gasp—­it wouldn’t be noticed particularly nowadays, but then people had never dreamed of anything so gorgeous.  And I made out a list of all the people I wanted to know in New York, and I said to myself:  ’If you come, you’re a friend, and if you don’t come, you’re an enemy.’  And they all came, let me tell you!  And there was never any question about the Waitings being in Society after that.”