Slowly the apron was lowered. Slowly the woman's hands dropped to Billy's shoulders and she gazed into his uplifted eyes. Then she did a thing which was quite characteristic of her. She bent and gave each of the wide grey eyes upraised to hers a resounding kiss. Then, roughly pushing him away, she reached for her shawl and hat hanging on the wall.
"You boys stay right here and keep fire under that kettle," she commanded. "I'm goin' to take that old Caleb Spencer's sawdust back to him an' give him a piece of my mind." And picking up the basket she went out, banging the door behind her.
The boys gazed at each other and Maurice's chuckle echoed Billy's, although it was raspy and hoarse.
"Throat burnin' yet?" inquired Billy.
"You bet," Maurice managed to answer.
"Well, you go along to the milkhouse an' lick the cream off a pan of milk. It'll settle that Injun turnip quick."
Maurice scooted for the back door. He returned in a little while with white patches of cream adhering to chin and nose. "Gosh!" he sighed gratefully, "that was soothin'."
"What dye s'pose made Caleb Spencer put up that job on me?" questioned Billy. "I never fooled him any. I did cut some letters on his new bench, but he needn't feel so sore at that."
"Well, jest you wait till Ma asks him why he did it," laughed Maurice, who now was almost normal again. "Ma's great on gettin' explanations, she is."
Billy went down into his pocket and drew forth a furry object about the size of a pocket knife and held it under his chum's eyes.