Left alone with the tramp called Tug, Betty turned to him a face of dread. “Let’s go into the house,” she said drearily.
“You’d better go in. I’m taking the road now,” he said in answer.
“But Father wants to see you. If you’ll wait just a little—”
“I have no business with him. I don’t care to see him, now or any time.” His voice was cold and hard. “Thank you for the lemonade, Miss Reed. I’ll say good-bye.”
He did not offer his hand, but as he turned away he bowed.
There was nothing more for Betty to say except “Good-bye.”
In a small voice of distress she murmured it.
Her eyes followed him as far as the road. A sound from the barn drove her into the house, to her room, where she could cover her ears with the palms of her small brown hands.
She did not want to hear any echo of what was taking place there.