He said very low as if he was all discouraged sort of, "Roy," he said, "you said something about going home for your sister's birthday?"
I said, "Yes, sir, I'd like to go down Friday and come back Monday. I'll go both ways by train, because that's quicker. I won't go if it isn't all right, but Marjorie is going to have a graduation party and they're going to have cocoanut cake, but anyway, I don't care so much about that." But, oh, boy, cocoanut cake is my middle name.
He said kind of slow, sort of, as if he was trying to make up his mind, "Well, Roy, I have an idea I'll let you take little McCord home. I don't know what else to do with him. I'm afraid he's too much for me. You see there are a good many boys who have to be considered. This isn't much of a place for a campaign of reformation," that's just what he said.
I said, "Are you mad at Skinny?"
He said, "I'm not mad, Roy, but I'm disheartened—a little hopeless, I'm afraid. I'm willing to believe that he isn't just right in his head, but you see I can't help him; I'm not a doctor. His heroism is just a phase of his condition—he gets excited." That's just exactly what Mr. Ellsworth said, because I remember. Then he just lifted the money and dropped it again. It was all crunched up and damp sort of. Even where I stood near him I could smell how it was damp—you know, kind of mildewed.
"Alfred went down to the house-boat and hid this in the locker," Mr. Ellsworth said. "The key he had fitted the padlock and he must have known that. It's the right sum, as nearly as our friend across the lake remembered what he had; a little over two hundred dollars—seven dollars over. It's a miserable piece of business, Roy. I've been lying awake thinking it over all night, and I guess the best thing is to send the poor little wretch home. I'll send a letter to Mr. Benton about him. He'll get him into some institution. Maybe we can help him later. He's a little young for us." Then he began whistling to himself and drumming on the table.
Gee, I just stood there watching him and I didn't know what to say. I wondered what Bert Winton would say if he were there in my place.
Pretty soon I said, "Maybe I won't go home to my sister's birthday after all. Gee, I don't care so much about cocoanut cake anyway." He just didn't say anything, only kept drumming and whistling.
Then I said, "Did you say anything to Connie and the Elks?"
"No," he said, "but I shall; they'll have to know why I take him out of their patrol. They'll have to know what he did."