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Billy-boy was small enough to require a good deal of attention at dinner, especially as he was more disposed to open big blue eyes at the stranger, than to make use of his spoon, and Annaple seemed chiefly engrossed with him, though a quick keen word at the right moment showed that she was aware of all that was going on, as Mark and Mr. Dutton discussed the present situation and future measures.
She came back into the room in a trailing silk kimono, and, stealing softly up behind him, put both hands on his shoulders. "What are you thinking so hard about, Billy-boy?" she whispered. "I was thinking about Jake Lauer, and wondering how he was making it go," Bill answered. "I was also picturing to myself how some of these worthy citizens would mess things up if they had to follow in his steps.
She laughed happily. "But I sent you word, even if you never got it. Oh, well, it doesn't matter. Nothing matters now. You're here, and I'm here, and Oh, Billy-boy, I was an awful pig-headed idiot. Do you think you can take another chance with me?" "Say" he held her off at arm's length admiringly "do you want to know how strong I am for taking a chance with you?
She continued her search for the pinkish-red stones, carrying the rusty pebble along. Presently she worked her way back to where Roaring Bill labored prodigiously. "I feel ashamed to be loafing while you work so hard, Billy-boy," she greeted. "Give me a kiss and I'll call it square," he proposed cheerfully. "Got to work like a beaver, kid. This hot weather'll put us to the bad before long.
'Is baby he began. 'Oh, Nuttie! Are you there? Mr. Dutton told me you were coming. How is my uncle? And the voice was much brisker than in the days of lawn-tennis. 'Father, father, look! cried the boy. 'Why, Billy-boy, you are set up! Zouaves and chasseurs! I see where they came from.
Just called me "Billy-boy" and spelled all the big words, and took care of me like I was a baby, because I was so weak. One day, when I had sat up all day, dressed, I thought Aunty May looked kind of excited, and I saw a letter sticking out of her pocket, and I asked her if Aunty Edith was coming home, and she said, "Yes, very soon."
But ahead of them the mountain rose to an upstanding backbone of jumbled granite, and on this backbone Bill Wagstaff bent an anxious eye. Presently they sat down on a bowlder to take a breathing spell after a stiff stretch of climbing. Hazel slipped her hand in his and whispered: "What is it, Billy-boy?" "I'm afraid we can't get over here with the horses," he answered slowly.
But as the far-seeing eyes gazed into the future, they softened until the tears mingled with Billy's on the already much-stained silken gown. "Billy-boy, we're crying. I wonder what for?" "Because," Billy's mouth was full of that silken gown; "because you and me is so plum chuck-full of happiness we're nigh to busting." "Oh! Billy, is that really it, really?" Billy looked up from his shrine.
The child leaped from her lap, started half-running, half-flying, caught a seaward going breeze, sailed to the top of the boulder. She balanced herself there, gazing triumphantly down on Billy-Boy who, flat on his stomach, red in the face, his black eyes bulging out of his head, still pulled and tugged and strained.
"The world's chuck-full of men," Bill observed. "Surely," she looked up at him. "But they're not like you. Maybe it's bad policy to start in flattering you, but there aren't many men of your type, Billy-boy; big and strong and capable, and at the same time kind and patient and able to understand things, things a woman can't always put into words.
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