“What’s your name?” asked Billie again.
“Nick Budd, ma’am,” answered the fellow, never taking his eyes from Billie’s pretty face. “Son of Tim Budd, the gardener up at Three Towers Hall.”
“Oh!” cried Billie delightedly, while Teddy himself felt immensely relieved. “Then you will show us the way home, won’t you? We’ll be ever so much obliged to you.”
“Yes’m,” said the poor simpleton, shuffling his feet as though embarrassed. “I’ll show you right away. But there’s a powerful lot o’ snow between us and the Hall,” he added, as he turned to leave the cave.
Teddy started to take the candle to light them out, but the simpleton, as though he had eyes in the back of his head, turned upon Teddy furiously.
“You let thet candle be,” he cried to the astonished boy, while Billie shrank back in fresh alarm. “You let thet candle be, I tell you! It’s my candle, ain’t it?”
“Whew!” whistled Teddy, feeling a wild desire to shout, yet afraid to do it for fear of angering still more this poor idiot. “Yes, it’s your candle, old man. Be sure you take good care of it. It’s very precious.”
The simpleton stared at him suspiciously for a moment, then turned his back and led the way out of the cave.
“Oh, Teddy, I’m scared to death,” whispered Billie, as the boy grabbed tight hold of her hand and started to follow Nick Budd.
“You needn’t be,” he whispered back to her. “I could clean up that little shrimp with one finger.” Which observation, though extremely slangy, was very comforting to Billie.