The Girl Next Door (Crimson Romance) Read Online Free Page B

grinned and held out his hand. “Betsy, you nice kid! This makes coming home perfect.”
    It was then that Betsy disgraced herself, in her own eyes, as well as in Mrs. Marshall’s. She gave a little choked cry of heart break and jerked her hand free of Peter’s. Then she ran blindly along the platform and into the street — away from that tall, white-faced boy with his shadowed, sightless eyes.
    Behind her, Mrs. Marshall ground her teeth in anger, as Peter’s face went taut and his jaw clamped hard.
    “Sorry — I seem to have upset the kid,” said Peter.
    “The car’s over here, dearest,” said Mrs. Marshall, knowing that there was no way in which she could see the hurt that Betsy’s outbreak had caused him. She slipped her hands through his arm and, without seeming to guide him, drew him toward the car.
    The station loafers, who had witnessed Betsy’s outburst, shuffled embarrassedly, and several of them called to Peter. Then the station master came out to shake his hand and to say, “Glad to have you back, Pete. The whole town’s mighty proud of you. Don’t reckon they’re gonna forgive you, though, for not letting ‘em meet you with a brass band and a welcoming committee.”
    Peter managed a laugh as he shook hands with the man, and answered, “Hate to upset the town, but I’m not quite up to brass bands just yet. Give me a few days to get settled, and we’ll whoop her up.”
    “Sure, sure, Pete. I just wanted you to know how everybody feels about you, boy — and that’s mighty proud!” said the station master.
    Mrs. Marshall was eternally grateful to him that he made no effort to assist Peter as he climbed into the sedan. She got in behind the wheel and, though her hand shook a little as she switched on the ignition, she was chattering almost hysterically, and the sound of her voice hid the small jangling of the keys.
    Peter relaxed as the car started. After a moment he put his hand on hers, and said, “Okay, Mom — thanks! You can cut the act now.”
    Mrs. Marshall managed to stifle the sob that rose in her throat, and to say brightly, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I never put on acts, and you know it. If I’m so glad to see you that I have trouble to keep from exploding, is that so strange?”
    “Of course not, pet!” Peter smiled at her. “I know it was a sock in the jaw to see me. I waited as long as I could, so you could get used to the idea of seeing me like this. I knew it would be a bitter blow.”
    “Peter Marshall, you talk like a fool! Don’t you suppose I’m tickled silly to see you, with your arms and legs intact? Every mother who saw her son go off to war braced herself for the worst that would possibly happen to him! I’m lucky that you came back at all!”
    Peter grinned and relaxed a little.
    “Atta girl, Mom!” he said, and Mrs. Marshall breathed a little more easily.
    All along the street as she wound her way through the mid-morning traffic, people called to them, waved, and shouted greetings to Peter. Peter smiled and waved back. When they reached the house and his mother had stopped the car at the steps, he grinned and sniffed.
    “Boy, oh, boy, it
smells
like home! You’ll never know what it’s like to smell clean, decent odors again — flowers and new-cut grass and freshly plowed fields — ” He broke off to sniff again.
    Mrs. Marshall laughed, and refrained from helping him as he got out of the car and, with his stick, probed a little until he got his bearings. He went up the steps aided only by the cane; he swung open the screen door for her; the tip of his cane touched the door sill, and he followed her into the house.

Chapter Five
    Late that afternoon Betsy took a bus out to Professor Hartley’s cottage. She knew he would be in the garden at the back of the house today, and she went around there. As always, he sat up alertly in his big rustic chair as he heard the sound of her footsteps on the gravel.
    “Hello, Betsy, my dear,” he