Eden shrugged, then looked steadily into Renny's eyes. "I have an idea," he said, "that I've done the best thing in saving this youngster that I've done in all my life."
"Minny Ware told me that you'd never have got him if it hadn't been for her."
Damn Renny! How he took the wind out of one's sails!
"She was there," he admitted, "and I guess she never did a better thing! He must have had a hell of a time to make him do this!"
"Time to talk of that later." Renny picked up the boy, too light for his length, and carried him to the car. He supported him against his shoulder while Eden drove. Meg met them on the steps. The old people at Jalna must not get a fright. Meg's full, soft lips were ineffably tender, and behind her stood Minny Ware. Maurice helped to carry Finch up the stairs.
He was rolled in blankets before a fire, drowsy, perspiring, sensing already the sweet, sticky smell of petunias that came in on the hot sunshine through the open window. But he had something to say to Renny, who stood drawing down his shirt sleeves. He had been rubbing Finch with alcohol.
"Renny," he said hesitatingly, "you won't tell them what I did . . . you won't let the others know?"
"All right," returned Renny, looking down on him with brusque compassion. His mind flew back to other times when Finch had entreated, in the very same tone: "You won't tell them that you licked me, will you, Renny? You won't let the others know?" And he had answered then as now: "All right, I won't."
Meg came in with a step which she tried to make noiseless, but she was getting heavy, and the things on the bedside table jiggled. She bent over the sausage-like form on the bed and stroked the damp hair.
"Comfy, now?"
"Uh-huh."
She asked Renny: "How is he, really?"
"Half-lit and as hot as blazes."
