“Well, no matter, Billy. You look twenty. But I’ll challenge you on the score of studies, that is, if—if you’ll cut out mathematics,” she added in a mock-plaintive tone.
“Mathematics is—are?—the whole business,” he swaggered; and thus they chaffed themselves back to childhood standing again, and talked on of many matters, each telling of life during the separation.
She was almost well, would soon be ready to join in their sports again. Going home, Billy thought over his changed future. The gay days were coming when May Nell and his cousins, Hector, Hugh, and little Miss Snow, as they called their little sister, would all go chugging around the Sound among the beautiful Thousand Islands, or startle the silences of night and day at lovely Lallula.
But he would not be there. He would be drudging at some sort of hard work; making a beginning in his long, hurrying climb toward an income that would warrant him in taking Erminie to a home of their own. Suddenly the future looked bigger and darker, and he mentally drew back from it; but instantly chid himself for a coward.
He need not. He was only a boy. How was he to know that he was not yet able to endure long mental strain; that this depression was the inevitable reaction from exciting days, and nights with little or no sleep?
On his way he met Bess Carter.
“Hello, Queen of Sheba!” he called as she was passing him, her head up, eyes unheeding.
“Oh! Billy! I’m glad you spoke. We’re so busy I’m totally absorbed and don’t have time to see my friends.”
“Evidently not. What is it? Politics?”
“Yes. Though it doesn’t seem like that. I thought politics was something tremendous and difficult and—rather bad. But since mother says women are to be enfranchised and I must learn things, and since I heard Mr. Streeter, it really appears merely a sort of housekeeping for the city, or State, or whatever; easy, but lots of work.”