"
Margaret compromised on pieces of old tablecloth. Wesley led Billy to
the cistern, pumped cold water into the tub, poured in a kettle of hot,
and beginning at the head scoured him. The boy shut his little teeth,
and said never a word though he twisted occasionally when the soap
struck a raw spot. Margaret watched the process from the window in
amazed and ever-increasing anger. Where did Wesley learn it? How could
his big hands be so gentle? He came to the door.
"Have you got any peroxide?" he asked.
"A little," she answered stiffly.
"Well, I need about a pint, but I'll begin on what you have."
Margaret handed him the bottle. Wesley took a cup, weakened the drug and
said to Billy: "Man, these sores on you must be healed. Then you must
eat the kind of food that's fit for little men. I am going to put some
medicine on you, and it is going to sting like fire. If it just runs
off, I won't use any more. If it boils, there is poison in these places,
and they must be tied up, dosed every day, and you must be washed, and
kept mighty clean. Now, hold still, because I am going to put it on."
"I think the one on my leg is the worst," said the undaunted Billy,
holding out a raw place. Sinton poured on the drug. Billy's body twisted
and writhed, but he did not run.
"Gee, look at it boil!" he cried. "I guess they's poison. You'll have to
do it to all of them."
Wesley's teeth were set, as he watched the boy's face.
Pages:
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134