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“And Flash mewed just once, very softly. He couldn’t see the tramp cat, for the big oak tree hid him. But the second Tom answered his mew, Flash flew like a lightning streak, around the tree and up to that old, stealing feline cat. And he ran— O Billy, you’d have laughed an ache in your side if you could have seen him run,—over the fence, he ran again, across the street, down the sidewalk,—he never stopped till he came to the tip top of Mr. Potter’s big locust tree.” It must have been hours past midnight when Billy’s chattering voice startled his mother. She had heard no bell; the boy himself stood by her bedside; she could see him dimly against the window. “I wathed theeth carroth mythelf, aint they lovely and red jutht like Motheth hair.” She was quite oblivious of the scornful glance bestowed on her by that outraged shock-headed youth..
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Thus adjured, Howard began, while Mrs. Wopp leaned back in her chair rocking vigorously. She put back his tumbled hair, looked long into his eyes, realizing with a shock that she was looking up. Her little boy was gone. The coulee was a sheltered nook when bitter winds swept the higher grounds above; it was cool when scorching heat yellowed the grasses of the plain. CHAPTER XVII BILLY TO-DAY.
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