More daring than he would have believed of himself, he reached out his
arms and caught her to him, and--It was not Flora at all. It was Mama
Joy.

"Oh, I--I beg your pardon--I--" stammered Billy helplessly.

"Billy! You're a bad boy; how you frightened me!" she gasped, and
showed an unmistakable inclination to snuggle.

Charming Billy, looking far more frightened than she, pulled himself
loose and backed away. Mama Joy looked at him, and there was that in
her eyes which sent a qualm of something very like disgust over Billy,
so that in his toes he felt the quiver.

"It was an accident, Mrs. Bridger," he said laconically, and went out
hastily, leaving her standing there staring after him.

Outside, he twitched his shoulders as if he would still free himself
of something distasteful. "Hell! What do I want with _her_?" he
muttered indignantly, and did not stop to think where he was going
until he brought up at the stable. He had the reins of Barney in his
hand, and had put his foot in the stirrup before he quite came to
himself. "Hell!" he exploded again, and led Barney back into the
stall.

Charming Billy sat down on a box and began to build a smoke; his
fingers shook a great deal, so that he sifted out twice as much
tobacco as he needed. He felt utterly bewildered and ashamed and
sorry, and he could not think very clearly. He lighted the cigarette,
smoked it steadily, pinched out the stub and rolled another before he
came back to anything like calm.

Even when he could bring himself to face what had happened and what it
meant, he winced mentally away from the subject. He could still feel
the clinging pressure of her round, bare arms against his neck, and
he once more gave his shoulders a twitch. Three cigarettes he smoked,
staring at a warped board in the stall partition opposite him.

When the third was burned down to a very short stub he pinched out the
fire, dropped the stab to the dirt floor and deliberately set his foot
upon it, grinding it into the damp soil. It was as if he also set his
foot upon something else, so grimly intent was the look on his face.

"Hell!" he said for the third time, and drew a long breath. "Well,
this has got to stop right here!" He got up, took off his hat and
inspected it gravely, redimpled the crown, set it upon his head a
trifle farther back than usual, stuck his hands aggressively into his
pockets and went back to the house. This time he did not go to the
kitchen but aroun