Bud was sure he saw tears in the old woman’s eyes; but, pressing his hand in hers, she said no more.
“It’s all right, Kid,” went on the man, “that means a lot. I’d rather have it than money. We ain’t got nothin’—we’re poor people, but when Jack Stanley kin do ye a turn it’ll be done. That’s all.”
How well Jack Stanley and Madame Zecatacas kept their word, Bud soon found out.
The aeroplane trial at an end, every one seemed to forget Bud. Homeless at last, he did not care much. So long as his engagement with the fair officials lasted, he determined to stay in the aeroplane shed, which he now began to call the “aerodrome.” His only regret was that he had had no opportunity to say good-bye to Mrs. Stockwell. But he would send her a letter. Meanwhile, with Mr. Elder’s five dollars in his pocket to provide for his meals, he whistled at hard luck and counted himself content.
Yet, as evening came on, the thought of Mrs. Stockwell bothered him. So long as he belonged in her home, a failure to return at night did not bother him a great deal. Now that he was not going back again, he had a longing to tell her “good-bye.” Besides there were a few clothes, his parents’ pictures, some airship drawings and a couple of books that he felt he would like to have before Attorney Stockwell might take a notion to destroy them.
One of these books Bud was determined not to lose. This was a new story—“In the Clouds for Uncle Sam or Morey Marshall of the Signal Corps.” Anything relating to aeroplanes interested Bud, and this book was wholly about the new flying machines, but, in Morey Marshall’s adventures, he had just reached the most exciting part.
“Whatever happens,” said Bud to himself, “I’ve got to find out what came of the blue packet Morey found in his father’s old desk and what happened to Morey and Amos when they ran away from home.”
But it was some days before Bud had a chance to renew his reading of this tale.
In the early evening, he knew that the lawyer always spent a few hours “up town.”