I halted in order that my words might sink deep before speaking again.
"And, Howard, something more important, you give me credit for starting you out of the pine woods. Maybe I did, but during the time you loved and was happy with her, she did more to develop the man in you than I could do in a thousand years. To overlook this is ungrateful; plain, simple ingratitude."
It was the first time I ever saw tears in Howard Byng's eyes, big tears. His mouth twitched and he swallowed hard.
"Wood," he finally began, struggling manfully to control himself, "it may be you are right. I think you are. I should provide for her, but I don't know how to go about it. And—and there have been times lately when I have thought I was too harsh and uncompromising, but facts are pungent, bristling things no matter how much you might wish otherwise." This came in such manner from the bigness of the man that I grasped his hand eagerly.
"God bless you, Howard! I am busy, every man with red blood in our nation is busy, but I will undertake to learn something about her. You go back to Georgia. Our nation needs every ounce of turpentine and rosin you can make and needs them badly, as well as the paper and cotton. Go down there and make things hum for Uncle Sam and I will see what can be done. Also I will see little Jim. I believe I can overcome your difficulties there."
CHAPTER XXIX
As I suggested, Howard took Don, the old darkey, and hurried off to Georgia to put his reacquired property in working shape, utilizing the waste stumps, and cleaning the best cotton land in the world. His parting injunction was that he would return on an hour's notice, and for me to see little Jim as soon as I could find time. He would spend Christmas with her, as he had from infancy taught her the significance of it and had never failed to celebrate. He wanted her to be very happy that day.
I met Charlie Haines. He was still chasing moonshiners. I asked him if he had heard anything lately of Mrs. Byng. I knew he would easily recall her.