Mrs. Severn in a cool white dimity came quietly into the room, bringing
a restful calm with her, and while Lynn was out on her errand of mercy
she slipped a strong arm around the other woman's waist and had her
down on her knees in the alcove behind the curtains, and had committed
the whole matter to a loving Heavenly Father, Billy and the tired
little Aunt, and all the little details of life that harrow so on a
burdened soul; and somehow when they rose the day was cooler, and life
looked more possible to poor Aunt Saxon.
Presently came Lynn, brightly. She had seen the boys. They had met
Billy in Economy day before yesterday. He had said he had a job, he
didn't know how long it would last, and he might not be able to come to
base ball practice. He told them who to put in his place till he got
back.
"There, now, Miss Saxon, you go home and lie down and take a good
sleep. You've put this whole thing in the hands of the Lord, now don't
take it out again. Just trust Him. Billy'll come back safe and sound,
and there'll be some good reason for it," said Mrs. Severn. And Aunt
Saxon, smiling wistfully, shyly apologetic for her foolishness, greatly
cheered and comforted, went. But Lynn went up to her little white room
and prayed earnestly, adding Billy to her prayer for Mark. Where was
Billy Gaston?
When Miss Saxon went home she found a letter in the letter box out by
the gate addressed to Billy. This set her heart to palpitating again
and she almost lost her faith in prayer and took to her own worries
once more. But she carried the letter in and held it up to the window,
trying her best to make out anything written therein. She justified
this to her conscience by saying that it might give a clue to Billy's
whereabouts. Billy never got letters. Maybe, it might be from his long
lost father, though they had all reason to believe him dead. Or maybe--
Oh, what if Albert Gaston had come back and kidnapped Billy! The
thought was too awful. She dropped right down in the kitchen where she
stood by the old patchwork rocking chair that always stood handy in the
window when she wanted to peel potatoes, and prayed: "Oh, God, don't
let it be! Don't bring that bad man back to this world again! Take care
of my Billy and bring him back to me, Amen!" Over and over again she
prayed, and it seemed to comfort her. Then she rose, and put the tea
kettle on and carefully steamed open the letter. She had not lost all
hope when she took time to steam it open in place of tearing it, for
she was still worse afraid that Billy might return and scold her for
meddling with his precious letter, then she was afraid he would not
return. While the steam was gathering she tried to justify herself in
Billy's eyes for opening it at all. After her prayer it seemed a sort
of desecration. So the kettle had almost boiled away before she
mustered courage to hold the envelope over the steam, and while she did
this she noticed for the first time significantly that the postmark was
New York. Perhaps it was from Mark. Then Billy was not with Mark! But
perhaps the letter would tell.