Billy turned the bulky papers over and over as if to gather some hint of their meaning from fold and stiffness. “What is it, Mr. Smith?” he asked wonderingly.
“A deed to the stone house, the Ha’nt, May Nell calls it. I was glad to know of something you wanted; and I’ll furnish the money to redeem the place to your idea of the beauty it deserves. It is a splendid location. And Mrs. Bennett,” he turned to Billy’s mother, “you must let me see Billy through college.”
“Oh, no! It’s too much. We only did what all—”
“Too much?” he interrupted; “is anything I have in this world too much to give for the life of my wife and child? Didn’t your son save them both? Save May Nell from—” He turned away and did not attempt to finish his sentence.
May Nell ran and hugged Mrs. Bennett, and Edith and Billy in turn, nestling afterward in her father’s arms.
“Surely Billy has earned it, Mrs. Bennett,” Mr. Smith urged.
“And I’m always going to be your little girl, too,” the child pleaded; “so Billy must be my papa’s little boy.”
Mrs. Bennett looked fondly at Billy, then back to Mr. Smith. “Thank you,” she said slowly, trying to gather courage for what she was to say. “Billy must not be paid for doing his duty. With the money he has earned from the State I am sure we shall be able to help him through a good schooling; for the rest my husband’s son must win his own way.”
Billy felt his head lift a little higher at his mother’s words; felt a new standard of honor and independence leap into being. The house was too small for him. He ran out into the summer evening, down the hill to the big rock that overhangs Runa Creek. The stars were beginning to shine, and he could hear the tinkle of the water below. Bouncer rubbed against him, and Billy hugged him to the peril of the old dog’s breath.
“They shan’t ever again call me Billy To-morrow. It’s Billy To-day, Bouncer. It shall always be Billy To-day!”