Before Max could go more than a few steps Sydney pulled him about. “What? Going without saying good-by to her? Even I have more manners than that.”
“But she won’t let me go if I tell her. I—you must——”
“No matter. You come with me.” Sydney turned, and calling to the man who had withdrawn behind the leafy screen, “He’ll see you later,” drew Max, resisting, along with him. It was not unpleasant to Sydney to feel his superior strength; to know this one advantage over the boy who unconsciously proved himself superior in so many ways.
They went in and told Mrs. Schmitz.
“You be not afraid. Stay by me. If he comes we are three—”
“No, no! It is you I care for. He may set fire—”
“Shoo out of this! You do what I tell you. I have here no leetle boys not minding me. In there iss books; go to ’em. After dinner we’ll talk.”
She intended no slang as they knew; and a rich odor came from the Sunday dinner already on the way. Memories of cold and hunger and dreary wanderings decided Max. “Thank you,” he said, and went into the sitting room. “To-night I shall not sleep but watch.”
“And I with you,” Sydney endorsed earnestly, throwing a glance that was fonder than he knew in the direction of her who was in both their minds.