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Billy knew by sight the two Italians who lived there, brothers yet enemies. Each dwelt by himself in a corner of the great building.Each cultivated alone his share of the straggling vineyard on the heights above, too steep and rocky for a plough; though the lush acres on the river bottom went fallow. If either overstepped his bounds they fought. Billy had seen one of these encounters; and the fierce fire in their dark faces, the passion in the foreign words they spoke,—oaths the boy felt they must be,—sent him flying home, tinged his dreams for many a night. Mrs. Wopp lurched heavily in her endeavor to calm the tumult of excited voices. Quiet was at length restored after several pupils had given thrilling accounts of catastrophes caused by windstorms. “Billy, I don’t like the look of your eyes; you’re reading too much at night,” his mother said one evening when he was helping with the dishes. “You must go to bed earlier.”.
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He saw the men stop, draw apart, and look around. They discovered no one, but delayed their quarrel and hurried in the direction of the sound, exchanging short angry speeches as they ran. His words had a new ring, and his mother was wise enough to respect the young independence in them. “What brought you to this decision, Billy?” They came upon him a second later, insensible, his head bleeding from a scalp wound. Hurriedly the Sheriff lifted him close to the brook, dashed water over his face, washed out the cut a little, and bound it with his handkerchief, not untenderly if in haste; for Billy had won something more than his approval. Not unwillingly the boy relinquished his task. Weeding after all is thankless work. The weeds will persist in growing in spite of every discouragement..
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