“This ends it, Billy. We’ll have no more nonsense about working till you’ve taken aboard your tools, your equipment of education and travel. It’s school now; you begin with the term. Hear?”
Billy smiled his thanks. Later, when he was on his feet, would be time enough to explain that his life must be lived according to his own idea of duty.
A few days after the fire Mrs. Bennett was surprised to receive an urgent call at the telephone in an unknown voice begging for an immediate interview; and a little later an excited young woman was at her door.
“I’m Erminie Fisher,” she explained. “I’ve come about Billy. How is he?”
“He’s doing well; will soon be out of the hospital.”
“And he won’t be crippled, scarred?”
“No. In a few weeks he will be quite recovered.” Mrs. Bennett could not throw cordiality into her tone. Loyal as Billy had been to Erminie his mother divined far more than he suspected of the part this girl had played in his life.
“Oh, Mrs. Bennett, he’s the best boy in the world. He’s done so much for me. I saw in the paper what a hero he was at the fire, and I came right home. I—I—was so afraid I couldn’t clear up everything, but now that I’ve seen Mumps—Sydney Bremmer—and heard a lot from him, I think I can.”
“Sit here, where it is cooler,” Mrs. Bennett invited, pushing a chair to the open window. “Now tell me what you wish,—only that don’t distress yourself.”