CHAPTER VIII
THE SUMMER LONG
Having satisfied his appetite to the point of discomfort, Jerry pushed back his plate with a sigh, shaking his head when Cassy asked if he would have more strawberries.
“Then we’ll save them and the rest of the things for mother,” she said with a satisfied air. “Unless,” she looked at Rock with sudden misgiving, “unless you meant to carry them home.”
Rock laughed.
“Not I, if you please. I’ve no notion of doing any such thing. I am too lazy to move and the thought of having to burden myself with a basket is too much for me. I will help you to wipe the dishes, though, and Jerry can put them away.”
“Do you really mean,” said Jerry, slowly, having been in a brown study, “that the railroad people will pay mother some money?”
“I think so,” Rock told him, “but one can’t say positively. Father says it is a very good case for damages, but it has been so long now that perhaps they will not want to pay the whole amount that is claimed, but he is pretty sure they will compromise, and he knows what he’s talking about.”
Cassy did not exactly understand all this, but she knew it meant good fortune for her mother; that hope of which she had spoken on Easter Day, and she wondered if it could mean as much as that they could have a cottage with morning-glories over the porch, and if they could move away and be rid of Billy Miles forever.
As if in answer to her thought Rock asked her: “Have you seen anything of our friend Billy Miles lately?”
“Our friend,” Cassy repeated in scorn. “I’d like to see myself calling him my friend.”