Part 8 (1/2)
Billy, he hasn't come home at all last night! I'm frightened to death!
I've sat up all night! I can't think what's happened--! There's so many hold-ups and Mark will carry his money loose in his trousers pocket--!”
Billy blanched but lied beautifully up to the occasion even as he would have liked to have somebody lie for him to Aunt Saxon:
”Aw! That's nothing! Doncha worry. He tol' me he might have t'stay down t'Unity all night. There's a fella down there that likes him a lot, an'
they had somekinduva blowout in their church last night. He mightuv had ta take some girl home out of town ya know, and stayed over with the fella.”
Mrs. Carter's face relaxed a shade:
”Yes, I've tried to think that--!”
”Well, doncha worry, Mizz Carter, I'll lookim up fer ya, I know 'bout where he might be.”
”Oh, thank you Billy,” her face wreathed in wavering smiles brought another thought of school days and life and how queer it was that grown folks had been children sometime and children had to be grown folks.
”Billy, Mark likes you very much. I'm sure he won't mind your knowing that I'm worried, but you know how boys don't like to have their mothers worry, so you needn't say anything to Mark that I said I was worried, need you? You understand Billy. I'm not _really_ worried you know. Mark was always a good boy.”
”Aw sure!” said Billy with a knowing wink. ”He's a prince! You leave it t'me, Mizz Carter!”
”Thank you, Billy. I'll do something for you sometime. But how's it come you're up so early? You haven't had your breakfast yet have you?”
She eyed his weary young face with a motherly anxiety:
”Naw, I didn't have no time to stop fer breakfast,” Billy spoke importantly, ”Got this call about the sick guy and had to beat it. Say, you don't happen to know Mark's license number do you? It might help a lot, savin' time 'f'I could tell his car at sight. Save stoppin' to ast.”
”Well, now, I don't really--” said the woman ruminatively, ”let me see.
There was six and six, there were a lot of sixes if I remember--”
”Oh, well, it don't matter--” Billy grasped his wheel and prepared to leave.
”Wait, Billy, you must have something to eat--”
”Aw, naw, I can't wait! Gotta beat it! Might miss 'im!”
”Well, just a bite. Here, I'll get you some cookies!”
She vanished, and he realized for the first time that he was hungry.
Cookies sounded good.
She returned with a br.i.m.m.i.n.g gla.s.s of milk and a plate of cookies. She stuffed the cookies in his pockets, while he drank the milk.
”Say,--” said he after a long sweet draught of the foaming milk, ”Ya, aint got enny more you cud spare fer that sick guy, have ya? Wait, I'll save this. Got a bottle?”
”Indeed you won't, Billy Gaston. You just drink that every drop. I'll get you another bottle to take with you. I got extra last night 'count of Mark being home, and then he didn't drink it. He always likes a drink of milk last thing before he goes to bed.”
She vanished and returned with a quart of milk cold off the ice. She wrapped it well with newspapers, and Billy packed it safely into the little basket on his wheel. Then he bethought him of another need.
”Say, m'y I go inta the g'rage an' get a screw driver? Screw loose on m'wheel.”