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Updated: May 29, 2025
She hurried to the stove where the waiting supper gave forth a pleasant odor. "Been down to the game at M'nop'ly," he explained happily as he flung breezily into the kitchen and dashed his cap on a chair, "Gee! That ham smells good! Say, Saxy, whad-ya do with that can of black paint I left on the door step last Saturday?"
Miss Saxon smiled: "Mrs. Carter told me how you and Mark went to help a man on the mountain. It was nice of you Billy." "Oh! that!" said Billy scornfully, rallying to screen his agitation, "Oh, he's better. He got up and went home. Oh, it wasn't nothing. I just went and helped Cart. Sorry not to get back to Sunday School Saxy, but I didn't think 'twould take so long."
Billy, standing awed in the doorway whither he had come to say there was more hot water ready, caught the vision of her face, remembered those school days, and felt a strange constriction in his throat. Some day Saxy would have to go like that, and would show the little girl in her face too, and he maybe would have to hold her so and think of how cross he had been. Aw Gee!
I gotta date with the fellas!" She had ceased to argue. She merely looked distressed. It seemed a part of his masculinity that was inevitable. At the door he was visited with an unusual thoughtfulness. He stuck his head back in the room to say: "Oh, yes, Saxy, I might not be home till morning. I might stay all night some place."
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