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Updated: May 9, 2025
"I should imagine that this Derek of yours is not one of our leading sunbeams. Well, I suppose he could hardly be, if that's his mother and there is anything in heredity." "Please don't criticize Derek," said Jill coldly. "I was only saying . . ." "Never mind. I don't like it." A slow flush crept over Wally's face. He made no reply, and there fell between them a silence that was like a shadow.
But an instinct, deeper than anything which the mind can express, told her that the letter rang true and had no false metal in it. "Or suppose," she thought, "if he knows dad is dead suppose he turns up and makes trouble for everybody " Wally's story returned to her memory. "There was an accident out West somebody killed. Anyhow he was blamed for it so he could never come back or they'd get him "
This is the way it began: That morning Jehosophat had gone with the Toyman to Sawyer's Mill over on Wally's Creek. Marmaduke felt lonely, for there was nobody but Hepzebiah to play with, and she wouldn't leave her dolls, and he had long ago gotten past playing with them. As he was wandering forlornly around the barnyard, wondering what he could do, he heard a shout over by the Miller farm.
To which after a pause, Helen had answered, much as she had spoken before, "I only wish he had half of Wally's money...." And would say no more. "I have warned her so often," said Mary. "What more can I say?" She uneasily wondered whether she ought to speak to her aunts, but soon shook her head at that. "It would only bother them," she told herself, "and what good could it do?"
It was a merry meal; and if the fare was no better than that of most township hotels, the spirits of the party were too high to trouble about such trifles as tough meat, watery puddings, and weary butter that bore out Wally's remarks about the heat by threatening to float away on a sea of its own oil. Everything was rose colour in Norah's estimation that day.
"He isn't altogether a bad lot, but lacks horse sense, and gave his parents a good deal of anxiety in his varsity days abroad. He was in several scrapes along with a boon companion who seems to have been so much like him, physically and morally, that, mother-like, Mrs. Foster is sure that very much of which her Walter was accused was really done by Wally's chum.
The kitchen was Tommy's especial pride it was cool and spotless, with fresh-painted walls and ceilings, and shining white tiles round the white sink over which Wally's draining-rack sat in glory. Dazzling tin-ware decorated the walls, and the dresser held fresh and pretty china.
So they came to the meadow, into which they had so often come limping down to play or feed among the twilight shadows, and crossed it for the last time on Wally's gun barrel, swinging, swinging. The leaves were falling thickly now; they formed a dry, hard carpet over which it was impossible to follow game accurately, and they rustled a sharp warning underfoot if but a wood mouse ran over them.
Before he had time to gather himself again the big yellow brindle, with the hound's blood showing in nose and ears, Old Wally's dog, leaped into sight. His whining trail-cry changed to a fierce growl as he sprang for the buck's nose. I had waited for just this moment in hiding, and jumped to meet it.
That Mariner girl started it." "She did!" Wally's interest became keener. "She would!" he said approvingly. "She's a heroine!" "Little devil! I never liked that girl!" "Now there," said Wally, "is just the point on which we differ. I have always liked her, and I've known her all my life.
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