“I’m not surprised,” Brad said. “I’ve felt rather sure Beeson must be the middleman in this business, after what we picked up Sunday. That tough old customer will be on the alert for you, if you ever go to the island again.” “I certainly intend to go.” “Not without me. I’ve been wanting to go back again for another look around.” “I’ve got to carry Uncle Mose his dollar’s worth of smoking tobacco, and write that letter for him.” “Meeting that fellow from the Pacific does sort of put you under obligations.” “Guess I’d better get back to my dishes,” said Kitty, rising. “Judy will be calling me a shirker if I don’t. She doesn’t enjoy this dish-washing part of the job any more than I do.” A few minutes later she was wielding the dish mop when Mrs. Evans came in to say, “Kitty, someone wants you on the phone.” She hurriedly crossed the hall to the near-by office, wondering if it was her father. She received quite a shock when she heard Jane’s voice: “Miss Kit, reckon you bettah come home.” “Why? What’s wrong, Jane?” “It’s Billy. Reckon he sick. He skin feel hot as fire to mah han’, and he cough like he gwine choke to deaf.” “I’ll be right home!” stated Kitty, and put down the phone with a bang. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER FOURTEEN MORE WORRIES Kitty almost ran into Brad as she came from the telephone. “What’s wrong, Kit?” he asked, seeing the misery in her face. “Billy’s sick. I must go home at once.” “I’ll borrow Bud Wilson’s car and take you,” he said. “Thanks. That will help lots. I have to tell Mrs. Evans I’m going, and get my coat.” Brad was waiting near the kitchen door when she came out, his friend’s car keys dangling on his finger. “I really shouldn’t have left him tonight,” Kitty said contritely as she jumped into the car. “Jane told me he was cross all day. He’s always cross before he gets sick.” Brad wasted no time in driving the five blocks to the house. He went in with Kitty to see if there was anything he could do. Jane had heard them coming and was already at the door to let them in when they crossed the porch. “How is he?” asked Kitty. “Reckon he mighty sick, Miss Kit.” Kitty hurried past her into Billy’s little room. He lay on the bed, his round cheeks red, his mouth open as he struggled for breath. In a moment she was sitting on the bed, bending over him. “Where do you feel bad, darling?” His little hand went to his throat. Terrified she thought of diphtheria. “Why didn’t you tell me you felt bad before I went off?” she chided. He only moaned and tossed his head restlessly. “I done call yo’ Pah, honey. He’s comin’ right home,” said Jane. “Thanks, Jane. It’s nice to have someone so dependable.” “I’ll take a look at that throat,” said Brad, “as soon as I wash my hands.” “Get him a fresh towel, Jane.”