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The hours passed in an uproar of fun. The table was dismantled, toys, tools, and dishes put away, and the feast had sped into the past. The broad shaft of sunlight that flooded the dining-room where Nell Gordon sat was suddenly darkened. Looking up she saw the tall straight figure of Howard Eliot at the doorway. May Nell looked incredulous. “And they feed her strawberries and vanilla beans and chocolate for flavors, I suppose; but how do you separate them when you milk? Will you show me the next time you fill that big bucket?” She nodded her head toward the freezer, and was so demure that not even Bess, still less Jimmy, knew whether she was deceived or poking fun..
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“They’ll have to be done before vacation or not at all,” he answered, so seriously that May Nell wondered a little; wondered still more as the moments passed and the dark room grew very quiet. She did not know what purpose was growing in Billy’s mind, a purpose that largely concerned herself. “I’m sorry to make you late with your mowing, Billy, but I must have you go out to Mrs. Prettyman’s for some cream she promised me.” “Yes, thank you. But most my heart is hungry. Will you help me to find my mama?” Was there to be another murder? Ought he to call? If he did wouldn’t they turn on him—kill him? No matter. Some one might be on the road and hear. And he could run pretty fast. Anyway he must risk it..
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