"Oh, kid, I love you," he whispered, as she went to him, frankly and happily. "I love you so I can't marry you."
"It's old-fashioned to love your wife, I know," chirruped Billy, "but let's be old-fashioned."
"It isn't that, Billy," said the Watermelon slowly. He held her a moment, looking down into her eyes as she looked up at him, her hands on his shoulders, her head back.
"What is it?" she asked, frankly puzzled, but refusing to be dismayed. "You can't afford a wife, you who made three—four—millions this year?"
"Yes," said the Watermelon, grim and quiet, "that's it." He let her go and thrust his hands into his pockets. "I haven't a cent, haven't ever had one. I'm not Batchelor with a few millions. I'm a tramp without a cent, stony broke. That suit-case," kicking Batchelor's suit-case which he had carried with him, "is another's and I'm going to chuck it to-night."
Billy stared, mouth slightly parted, her brows drawn together in wonder, unbelieving. "Not Batchelor?" she stammered. "William Hargrave Batchelor?"
"I am Jeroboam Martin of Nowhere and Everywhere," said the Watermelon bitterly. "That Sunday I met you, I found Batchelor in bathing down in the woods. I swiped his clothes, Billy, for the dinner I could get at the hotel. Then I saw you. I wanted the week with you and I just went on being Batchelor. See?"
"How?" asked Billy through white lips, staring at him from where she stood in the middle of the tiny cow lane, winding away up the hill among the sweet fern and the bracken.
The Watermelon raised his hand to his head and gently brushed his back hair with futile embarrassment. "Why, you know that guy we heard coughing in the bushes? Well, he put me wise to the fact that your father—er—that your father and Batchelor were enemies on the Street and I thought—maybe—er—if—why, your father asked me to go with you on the trip, you know, and I thought—er—that if Batchelor was in the city alone and your father thought he was with him—why, Batchelor could beat him on the Street and not mind the loss of the few things I had to take—er—see, I deceived the gang of you for a week's fun. See what a cheap guy I am, Billy? A bad egg."
"Yes," said Billy. "Father asked you to go. Why did he do that?"