Aunt Saxon turned her pink damp face toward the prodigal and broke into a plaintive little smile:
“Why, Willie, is that you? I'm real glad you've come. I've kept supper waiting. We've got cold pressed chicken, and I stirred up some waffles. I thought you'd like something hot.”
Billy stared, but the reaction was too much. In order to keep the sudden tears back he roared out crossly:
“Well, I ain't hungry. You hadn't oughtta have waited. Pressed chicken, did ya say? Aw Gee! Just when I ain't hungry! Ef that ain't luck! An' waffles! You oughtta known better! But bring 'em on. I'll try what I can do,” and he flung himself down in his chair at the table and rested a torn elbow on the clean cloth, and his weary head on a grimy hand. And then when she put the food before him, without even suggesting that he go first and wash, he became suddenly conscious of his dishevelled condition and went and washed his hands and face without being sent! Then he returned and did large justice to the meal, his aunt eyeing furtively with watery smiles, and a sigh of relief now and then. At last she ventured a word by way of conversation:
“How is the man on the mountain?” Billy looked up sharply, startled out of his usual stolidity with which he had learned from early youth to mask all interest or emotion from an officious and curious world.
Miss Saxon smiled:
“Mrs. Carter told me how you and Mark went to help a man on the mountain. It was nice of you Billy.”
“Oh! that!” said Billy scornfully, rallying to screen his agitation, “Oh, he's better. He got up and went home. Oh, it wasn't nothing. I just went and helped Cart. Sorry not to get back to Sunday School Saxy, but I didn't think 'twould take so long.”
After that most unusual explanation, conversation languished, while Billy consumed the final waffle, after which he remarked gravely that if she didn't mind he'd go to bed. He paused at the foot of the stair with a new thoughtfulness to ask if she wanted any wood brought in for morning, and she cried all the time she was washing up the few dishes at his consideration of her. Perhaps, as Mrs. Severn had told her, there was going to come a change and Billy was really growing more manly.
Billy, as he made his brief preparation for bed told himself that he couldn't sleep, he had too much to worry about and dope out, but his head had no more than touched the pillow till he was dead to the world. Whatever came on the morrow, whatever had happened the day before, Billy had to sleep it out before he was fit to think. And Billy slept.