“Yes; find things changed, don’t you? We’ve been busy.”
When Billy left, the grade had stretched bare and brown for miles without tie or rail. Now, except a short gap at the station and the half-mile of contested right of way the track was completed up the hill and into the forest.
“The girls took a notion to come home ahead of time—surprise.” Mr. Smith looked toward the villa. “I hate surprises! Bad enough in business; but this—Well, now they’re here, we’ll have to take care of ’em, Billy.”
The boy thrilled at being included as a defender of the two in the house they were approaching.
“Get down in the tonneau,” Mr. Smith commanded. “They must not know you’re here—and to watch; they’ll be uneasy.”
Billy obeyed.
“Stay here—out of sight—till I come again; I won’t be gone long.” Mr. Smith drove to the garage, but not in, and Billy got out and went to an inner room, his sleeping apartment.
As he had feared he heard May Nell’s voice when her father returned to the machine. But he got rid of her.
“Run back, kiddie. I have some figuring to do, and then I must see a man at Tum-wah, and some other things—it may be very late before I get back.”
“It’s your birthday, papa. We came home to celebrate—”