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THE place Billy called the Fo’castle was a tiny room in the sloping windmill tower. It was level with the second floor of the house, and a narrow, railed bridge connected it with a door in his mother’s room. Under it was the above-ground cellar, overhead the big tank. Still higher whirled the great white wings that pumped the beauty-giving water to lawn and gardens. “I couldn’t understand it then. Now I do. My own sister is that bravest of lovers.” His words rang with pride as well as love. “Do you know how ice cream is made, May Nell?” Jimmy asked to break the oppression..

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“Last night I heard something on the Q. T. I didn’t mean to, but I’m glad I did. I was in the pantry chuckin’ some bread an’ butter under my solar plexus when I heard Mr. Wright tell sister in the sitting-room—I guess some door was open a crack—that his law business was growing a little. I didn’t hear the next words, but there was ‘please’ in italics in his voice. But sister said, an’ I heard her plain enough, ‘No, Hal, not till I’ve saved enough to take Billy through school.’ ‘I’ll help—’ Mr. Wright got as far as that when this guy waked up,—knew he’d snuck information not intended for him. So I made a noise; I scatted the cat—no cat there—slammed the door, and kicked up a racket generally so’s they’d know I was there.” “Sour’s licked me ’cause I’m a n-nigger, ’n gave T-Twinnies some f-flowers an’ walked with ’em. He’s back there now l-lickin’ the T-Twins.” He went out. May Nell stared after him, dazed and trembling. When the key turned in the lock she looked around wildly; ran to the window and tried it. It was nailed down. For a second she stood quite still, gazing straight before her. Then the horror of her plight swept over her; she threw herself on the bed, a crumpled little heap, buried her face in the pillow, and sobbed piteously. He woke early the next morning. This was rare for him; he usually slept like a bear in midwinter. Perhaps the creaking of the windmill all through the night made his slumber light. Another noise had disturbed him, the sewing machine. Its whirr had come up to him from the open window of the living-room. He knew mother and sister were sewing hard, that on the morrow the poor little stranger might be suitably clad. He had brought upon them this extra work! And this was only the beginning. If the child’s mother was not found they must buy clothes as well as food; and this would take a lot of his sister’s money..