“It wouldn’t cost me much, though, to live in Harrisville, would it? I reckon I could find a boarding-house pretty reasonable.”
“I guess so. It’s a pretty big town. Look here, Wayne, suppose I go around there with you tomorrow and have a talk with Farrel. Maybe I could get him to promise something definite. Want me to?”
“I wish you would,” said Wayne gratefully. “That is, if I decide to try it. I’m going to think it over tonight.”
“Well, you want to start thinking pretty soon,” laughed Arthur, yawning as he arose, “because it’s nearly eleven now and there isn’t much night left for us slaves. You call me up at the office in the morning and let me know. Then I’ll take my lunch hour at eleven-thirty and we’ll go around to the hotel together. Good-night, Wayne.”
It was close on midnight when Wayne left the railroad track and started across the meadow through the lush grass toward the dim orange glow from the windows and open door of the car. It suddenly came to him that he would be sorry to leave this queer retreat of theirs, for it had been more like a real home than any he had known for several years. And, with a genuine pang, he remembered the garden he had planted. He would never see the flowers blossom, never see the little green pellet, which had mysteriously appeared on one of the tomato plants a few days ago, grow and ripen! The thought of leaving that garden almost determined him then and there to think no more of Mr. Farrel’s offer, but to stay at home with June and be satisfied with his work and the new friends he had made.
June was still awake when he approached, and hailed him across the starlit darkness. And Sam barked shrilly, at first with a challenge and then, as he scuttled to meet Wayne, with delight. The boy picked him up and snuggled him in his arms, and the dog licked his cheek with an eager pink tongue. “He done catch him a terrapin today,” announced June as Wayne seated himself tiredly on the step. “An’ he jus’ act disgusting he was so proud.”
“I reckon the terrapin was just a plain, everyday mud turtle,” laughed Wayne. “Did you see it?”
“Yes, sir, he brung it home an’ put it on its back so’s it couldn’t get away, an’ I ’most trod on it. What’s the diff’ence between a terrapin, Mas’ Wayne, an’ a mud turkle?”
“About seventy-five cents, June.”
“Say there is?” June was silent a minute. Then: “What done ’come o’ you this evenin’? I was waitin’ an’ waitin’ for you.”