She had written him a little note, not too intimate, just as a sister

might have written, expressing her deep trust, and her sincere desire

to stand by and help in any time of need. In it she begged him to think

her worthy of sharing his trouble as he used to share his happiness,

and to know always that she was his friend whatever came. She had read

it over and over to be sure she was not overstepping her womanly right

to say these things, and had prayed about it a great deal. But when it

came to sending it she did not know his New York address. He had been

strangely silent during the last few months and had not written her.

She did not want to ask his mother. So she planned to find it out

through Billy. But Billy did not come. It had been two days since Billy

had been around, or was it three? She was standing at the window

looking down the road toward the Saxon cottage and wondering if she

wanted to go down and hunt for Billy when she saw Miss Saxon coming up

the street and turning in at the gate, and her face looked wan and

crumpled like an old rose that had been crushed and left on the parlor

floor all night.

She turned from the window and hurried down: "Miss Marilyn," Aunt Saxon greeted her with a gush of tears, "I don't

know what to do. Billy's away! He hasn't been home for three days and

three nights! His bed ain't been touched. He never did that before

except that last time when he stayed out to help Mark Carter that time

on the mountain with that sick man, and I can't think what's the

matter. I went to Miz Carter's, but she ain't seen him, and she says

Mark's up to his business in New York, so Billy can't be with him, and

I just know he's kilt, Miss Marilyn. I just know he's kilt. I dreamt of

a shroud night before last and I can't help thinkin' he's kilt!"

and the tears poured down the tired little face pitifully.

Marilyn drew her tenderly into the house and made her sit down by the

cool window, brought a palm leaf fan and a footstool, and told Naomi to

make some iced orangeade. Then she called her mother and went and sat

down by the poor little creature who now that somebody else was going

to do something about it had subsided into her chair with relief born

of exhaustion. She had not slept for three nights and two of those days

she had washed all day.




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