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CHAPTER XVI THE BRIDGE TO SAFETY “I want Howard Eliot,” she cried, “he can sing so lovely, an’ I want Miss Gordon, she’s so comfortin’.” “We shorely are glad to hev a teacher at larst,” re-asserted the bustling lady of the house, as she passed a cup of creamy tea to her new boarder. “Did you hear what happened to our larst teacher, Miss Gordon?” Here the good lady heaved a deep sigh. “The pore man hed a tryin’ time with some big boys named Bullock who started in to school larst fall arter workin’ all summer. The teacher used to spend his evenin’s to Bullock’s bunkhouse, playin’ black-jack with ole man Bullock.”.
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Billy hesitated a minute. The dim room, the wicked-looking red lights, Bess so stern and mysterious,—this might frighten the little girl. He ought to wait. “Mudgie never saw any fairies,” replied Mrs. Mifsud, “But she is glad St. Elmo can see them.” “It’s only a chop left from yesterday,” he excused on his return. In the hours of joy that followed, joy known only to boys and farms in conjunction, Billy,—and it was unusual for him,—more than once recalled his mother’s words; heeded them to the extent of bidding Harold a reluctant good-bye when the sun was still blazing high above the horizon. But when, on his way home, he came to the branching of the road his good resolution weakened. He looked back. The sun was surely more than an hour high. He would have time to go up the hill road to the “Ha’nt.” And, beside that, he wished to look at the river where its divided flow encircled a tiny, shrub-grown island..
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