A Romance of Billy-Goat Hill

								

“But since you have been grown, you've had lots of time to--to--take
things into your own hands.”
“Well, I did for a while. I managed to squeeze through the university,
then I went into the shops and had a bully time for five months, but it
made no end of a row! Sister felt that after all she had done for me, I
oughtn't to go dead against her wishes, and I guess she was right. Then
I went into the bank and was beginning to get the hang of things, when
she had a nervous collapse and was ordered to Egypt for the winter. My
brother-in-law couldn't take her, so he sent me.”
“But you stayed longer than she did.”
“Yes, I played around on the Riviera for a while.”
“And you have been home, how long?”
“Three months. Honestly, I meant to buckle down to something right
off, but Cropsie Decker got this offer to go to the Orient for
the Herald-Post, and asked me to go along. I was keen about it
until--until I came down here.”
They were both silent for a while, watching a spider that was exploring
Don's boot-lace.
“It all seems so footless now. What I want is a house of my own, a home,
I mean. I never had much of that sort of thing--I'm not quite sure I
knew what a home was until I saw Thornwood.”
“Isn't it dear?” asked Miss Lady with a loving look over her shoulder at
the old house silhouetted against the sky. “I could kiss every brick of
it, I love it so.”
“I wish I didn't have to go back to town tonight!” burst out Donald
inconsequentially. “I wish I never had to go back to it!”
“Why?”
“Oh, for lots of reasons. I'm a different fellow down here in the
country, with things to do, and the right sort of things to think about,
and--and you! You see,” he smiled without looking up, “I'm not much good
in town.”
“How do you mean?” asked Miss Lady, with disconcerting frankness.
Donald shrugged his broad shoulders: “Oh! I don't know. I get into
things before I know it. This Eastern trip, now; it sounded great when I
said I'd go, Cropsie is a regular bird, the best fellow in the world to
go on such a lark with, but--”
Miss Lady shot a glance at the handsome, boyish, irresponsible face
beside her.
“Don't go, Don!” she whispered impulsively; “stay here and buy your
farm!”
“You mean it!” he demanded, seizing her hands. “You want me to stay?”
The blood surged into her cheeks, but she did not withdraw her hands.
Into her eager, luminous eyes had leapt the response that had been held
in abeyance all afternoon.
“If I stay,” he pressed hotly, “if I settle down and behave myself, and
make good, you'll promise me--”
“Jimpson!” thundered a familiar voice from the road. “That
good-for-nothing, lazy nigger, why don't he come help me with these
things? Jimpson!”
“I'll tell him, Dad!” called Miss Lady, springing from the hammock.
“But wait!” pleaded Donald, “just a minute. I've got to beat that