Tom looked at her, taken aback for the moment, with admiration, slowly at first, growing in his face.
“Well, all I got to say,” he enunciated solemnly, “is that Billy's so lucky he don't know how lucky he is.”
Not until Doctor Hentley gave the word did the splints come off Billy's arms, and Saxon insisted upon an additional two weeks' delay so that no risk would be run. These two weeks would complete another month's rent, and the landlord had agreed to wait payment for the last two months until Billy was on his feet again.
Salinger's awaited the day set by Saxon for taking back their furniture. Also, they had returned to Billy seventy-five dollars.
“The rest you've paid will be rent,” the collector told Saxon. “And the furniture's second hand now, too. The deal will be a loss to Salinger's' and they didn't have to do it, either; you know that. So just remember they've been pretty square with you, and if you start over again don't forget them.”
Out of this sum, and out of what was realized from Saxon's pretties, they were able to pay all their small bills and yet have a few dollars remaining in pocket.
“I hate owin' things worse 'n poison,” Billy said to Saxon. “An' now we don't owe a soul in this world except the landlord an' Doc Hentley.”
“And neither of them can afford to wait longer than they have to,” she said.
“And they won't,” Billy answered quietly.
She smiled her approval, for she shared with Billy his horror of debt, just as both shared it with that early tide of pioneers with a Puritan ethic, which had settled the West.