Billy awoke to the light of day with the sound of a strange car going
by. The road through Sabbath Valley was not much frequented, and Billy
knew every car that usually travelled that way. They were mostly
Economy and Monopoly people, and as there happened to be a mountain
trolley between the two towns higher up making a circuit to touch at
Brooktown, people seldom came this way. Therefore at the unusual sound
Billy was on the alert at once. One movement brought him upright with
his feet upon the floor blinking toward his window, a second carried
him to shelter behind the curtain where he could see the stranger go
by.
Billy had reduced the science of dressing to a fine degree. He could
climb into the limited number of summer garments in less time than any
boy in the community, and when he saw that the car had halted just
above the house and that the driver was interviewing Jim Rafferty, he
reached for a handful of garments, and began to climb, keeping one eye
out the window for developments. Was that or was it not the Chief's car
out there? If it was what did it want?
Billy was in socks, trousers and shirt by the time the car began to
puff again for starting, and he stove his feet into his old shoes and
dove down stairs three steps at a stride and out the door where he
suddenly became a casual observer of the day.
"Hullo, Billy! That you?" accosted the Chief driving slowly down the
street, "Say, Billy, you haven't seen Mark Carter, have you? They said
he had gone down to the blacksmith's to get something fixed for a car.
I thought perhaps you'd seen him go by."
Billy shook his head lazily: "Nope," he said, "I've been busy this morning. He mighta gone by."
"Well I'll just drive down and see!" The car started on and turned into
the Lane that led to the blacksmith shop.
Billy dove into the house, made short work of his ablutions, gave his
hair a brief lick with the brush, collected his cap and sweater, bolted
the plate of breakfast Aunt Saxon had left on the back of the stove
when she went away for her regular Monday's wash, and was ready behind
the lilac bush with old trusty, down on his knees oiling her a bit,
when the Chief drove back with Mark Carter in the back seat looking
strangely white and haughty, but talking affably with the Chief.
His heart sank. Somehow he knew something was wrong with Mark. Mark was
in his old clothes with several pieces of iron in his hand as if he
hadn't taken time to lay them down. Billy remained in hiding and
watched while the Chief's car stopped at Carter's and Mark got out. The
car waited several minutes, and then Mark came out with his good
clothes on and his best hat, and got into the car and they drove off,
Mark looking stern and white. Billy shot out from his hiding and
mounting his steed flew down the road, keeping well behind the maples
and hedges, and when the Chief's car stopped in front of the parsonage
he dismounted and stepped inside Joneses' drive to listen. Mark got
out, sprang up the steps, touched the bell, and said to someone who
appeared at the door, "Mr. Shafton, I'm sorry, but I'll not be able to
get those bearings fixed up to-day. The blacksmith doesn't seem to have
anything that will do. I find I have to go over to Economy on business,
and I'll look around there and see if anybody has any. I expect to be
back by twelve o'clock, and will you tell the lady that I will be ready
to start at half-past if that will suit her. I am sure we shall have
plenty of time to get her to Beechwood by five or sooner. If anything
occurs to keep me from going I'll telephone you in an hour, so that she
can make other arrangements. Thank you, Mr. Shafton. Sorry I couldn't
fix you up right away, but I'll look after the lady for you." Mark
hurried back to the car again and they drove off.