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“We left him by the creek, Ma, playing in the sand,” was the reply. “When Betty and me tried to make him come in he slapped us.” And that night after school, when May Nell’s little wardrobe was all packed,—not without a slight baptism of Edith’s tears,—and waiting for the morning train, Mr. Smith came in and put a ceremonious looking document into Billy’s hand. “Yes; but I’m afraid my papa’s dead, he’s been gone so long.” How she hated that word “kid.”.
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She clapped him into her own warm bed, and incredibly soon things were sizzling over the alcohol lamp. “Great Scott, boy! We’ll have to hurry. We must get up there before the fire gets down. Do you know the shortest way?” He threw himself on the bed and wept the bitterest tears he had ever shed in his life, tears of shame. There he lay—hours, he thought—determined to bear his pain and disgrace alone. Yet it was only minutes when he heard his mother in her room, coming! “A new kind of hen,” retorted Moses..
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