“I want to see you in my office—soon; to-morrow. I want to talk with you. A chap who can do the plucky things—”
“It wasn’t any more than they did,” Max began, determined that Billy and Sydney should be recognized.
“Yes, yes, I know all of you saved my little girl; but only one sick, neglected boy came alone to face me and make restitution for a fault. That’s what I’m remembering now. I wish to God I had a son like that!” He wheeled and walked rapidly out of the room.
“Oh, father! father!” It was a desperate cry. Walter ran toward the door but it closed in his face. He threw himself against it and, heedless of listeners, sobbed like a heart-broken child.
For an embarrassed instant the other three stood stock-still and looked at the floor. They did not know what to do. Mentally numb from the strain they had undergone, this added distress bewildered them.
It was Billy who first roused to the proper thing. “Beat it, kids!” he whispered hoarsely; and they scrambled out, leaving Walter quite unconscious of their departure.
CHAPTER X
That race with death for the life of little Dottie Buckman brought such intense fatigue to Max that he did not that night think much about what Mr. Buckman might have to say to him; but the next day the coming interview mixed itself exasperatingly with books and recitations. He built all sorts of extravagant plans for the future; scoffed at himself for them, and was chagrined to find that the mere notion of good fortune could so distract him.