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“Wait, Billy! You are hurt, badly. Let me see.” She put out a detaining hand. They all went off, a merry, noisy troop. And the disappearing sun was the last to say to Billy “Good-night.” “How in the world did you ever sleep through it, Billy?” his mother asked, coming in from the tank-room where she had been to investigate. “There is a small flood there. I should think the first drop would have wakened you.”.

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“A deed to the stone house, the Ha’nt, May Nell calls it. I was glad to know of something you wanted; and I’ll furnish the money to redeem the place to your idea of the beauty it deserves. It is a splendid location. And Mrs. Bennett,” he turned to Billy’s mother, “you must let me see Billy through college.” Several hands waved wildly and a chorus of voices eagerly broke in; through the childish babel could be heard a lisping narrative. 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. “He ran up and touched noses with Tom like a Feegee Islander,—are they the people that touch noses for ‘How do you do?’”.