“I’ve walked to the village,” said Billy. “I’m strong enough to go anywhere a’most.”
A few hoots recommenced in the rear.
“I wish you hadn’t gone to the village to-day,” sighed Matt.
“And why shouldn’t I?” cried Billy, pricked to savagery again. “What is there for me but gittin’ drunk? I got drunk when you wrote the news—so I did. Thet was the first time. We all drank your health an’ your bride’s, an’ I got drunk, an’ I’m glad I found out the joy of it. Why shouldn’t I hev some pleasure too? I’ll never hev a bride of my own—thet’s certain. What girl would take me? Do you deny it? Why, even when Ruth Hailey was here she on’y pitied me.”
“Hadn’t we better get a lift?” said Matt, gently, for a carriage was rumbling behind them.
“I’ve been twice to the rum-hole since the money came,” pursued Billy, in dogged defiance. “It’s the on’y way to forgit everythin’.”
He stumped on sturdily. Beads of perspiration glistened on his white, bloodless face.
“What money came?” Matt asked, puzzled.
“The two hundred and fifty dollars you sent a couple of days after you got engaged.”
“I never sent two hundred and fifty dollars,” he cried.