Small Boy Lost

Timaru Herald, Volume CXLIII, Issue 20722, 8 May 1937, Page 9 (Supplement)

Small Boy Lost

By

Kathleen Redman Strange

Illustrated by RALPH GORDON

BILLY JAMES was not usually allowed to play outside on the street after supper. For one thing, since he had started school his mother had decided that he needed more sleep. And now the evenings were drawing in, she didn’t like him to be out after dark.

He hadn't particularly minded going to bed promptly at eight o’clock until the day that a boy down the street acquired a new bicycle. A lot of boys visited the fortunate recipient after school, and many intended to return after supper, they said, to hang around on the chance of being allowed to ride the new machine. “Can’t I go out, just this once?” Billy pleaded as he got up from the supper table. “Please, mother?”

“Well—,” mother hesitated. Billy was only six. “AU right,” she conceded at last, won over by his eager face. “But come in before eight o'clock." “Sure, mother,” Billy promised, and shot out of the house. After dinner Mr James retired to his study to do some writing. Mrs James settled herself to read a magazine. Then a friend dropped in, and they chatted about women’s affairs. Mrs James was so used to having BUly safely in bed by eight o’clock that she forgot all about him—and the time. It was when she took her visitor into the kitchen, to show her the new refrigerator that had been purchased the week before, that she noticed the clock. “Why, it’s a quarter after eight, and I don’t believe Billy has come in yet,” Mrs James exclaimed.

She went into the hall. Billy’s cap was not hanging on its customary peg. She called his name, several times. But there was no reply. “What’s all the fuss about?” Mr James inquired, coming to the door of his study. “BlUy hasn’t come in yet,” Mrs James explained. "I can't understand it.”

“Oh, you know what boys are,” Mr Jamef said, “he’s just forgotten the time, that’s all. Probably still down at his friend’s."

Mrs James went to the telephone and called up the owner of the new bicycle. But the owner of the new bicycle was already in bed. His mother reported that all his young friends had left some time before.

“I can’t understand it,” Mrs James persisted, worriedly. She went out to the sidewalk, looking anxiously up and down the street. But there was no sign of any small boy.

Anxious Search Finally she walked across to the home of Billy's best friend. His mother answered the door. Yes, Johnny was in. He was in bed, though. Would Mrs Falks kindly wake him up and ask him if he knew where Billy was, Mrs James begged. Billy hadn't come in yet and she was getting so worried. Mrs Falks expressed her sympathy and hurried up to find out if her Johnny knew anything of the missing boy. Johnny, she came back to say, said that Billy had left Jim’s house shortly before he had. He thought he might have gone down to the fire hall. Mrs James thanked Mrs Falks and hurried off down the street, four long blocks to the fire hall. Two firemen were sitting outside. No, they hadn’t seen any small boy with fair hair and wearing an old brown sweater. No boys had been around at all that evening, for a wonder. Mrs James walked back, feeling more worried than ever. Perhaps Billy had gone around to the drug store. She seemed to remember that he still had five cents left from his Saturday’s pocket money. He might have decided to stop in at the drug store for an ice cream and forgotten all about the time. But Billy hadn’t been to the drug store. And it was now nine o’clock. When Mrs James got back to the house she found her husband standing on the doorstep. “Hasn't that boy turned up yet?” he asked, and now there was a note of anxiety in his voice, too. “I can’t think what has happened to him,” Mrs James wailed. "Perhaps he has had an accident. Maybe we’d better ring up the hospitals.” “Now, my dear, don’t get excited," counselled her husband. “If anything had happened to Billy we’d have heard of it by this time. Bad news travels fast, you know.” "Yes, but if he was knocked down, and was unconscious, how would they ever find out who he was,” Mrs James protested. “Best thing to do is to telephone the police station,” Mr James agreed. “If any accident has occurred, they’ll know about it.” No. there had been no report of an accident that evening, the police station assured Mr James. Probably the missing lad was playing somewhere; had just forgotten the time. Little boys were like that, weren’t they?

Some little boys, Mr James conceded. But not his boy. He was an exceptionally obedient child! The police station promised to send a cruiser car around to scout for the missing lad. Meanwhile kindly neighbours were promenading up and down the street, peering into gardens and back lanes. Passersby were asked repeatedly: “Have you seen anything of a little boy, fair-haired, wearing an old brown sweater?” By ten o'clock Mrs James was almost frantic. She was sure something terrible had happened to her Billy. Her heart felt like lead. She walked to and fro, hardly knowing what she was doing. Mr James comforted her as best he could. But he, too, was worried. And, manlike, he made things worse by offering all kinds of impossible suggestions. She should sit down and read a book. Or make a cup of tea. As if she could do anything when the fate of her small boy hung in the balancel All she could do was to recall stories she had read of little boys who had wandered off from home, and had fallen asleep behind isolated haystacks, or close to railroad tracks, and almost starved to death or been frozen to death before they had been discovered.

Please God, her Billy would still be alive when they found him! At 10.15 there was still no word. It was very dark now, and getting colder. Mrs James thought of her little boy, out alone, perhaps lost, frightened, and it was almost more than she could bear. Wearily she dragged herself upstairs to her room. She must rest, try and compose herself. Everything was being done that could be done. Surprise and Bewilderment As she passed the door of Billy’s room, the tears came into her eyes. It was all just as he had left it. Books scattered about, some toys piled on a chair, clothes in a tumbled heap on the floor. His boots! Mrs James’ heart almost stopped beating. What were his boots, his brand new boots that he always wore, doing on the floor? She looked toward the bed. There, on the pillow, was Billy’s head. His eyes were closed. He seemed to be sleeping quite peacefully! Mrs James rushed over to him. She caught him in her arms, waking him

out of a rosy sleep. Tears poured down her cheeks as she cried: “Oh, Billy! Billy! Where have you been? I thought you were lost!” Foi- a moment Billy couldn’t imagine what it was all about. Slowly it came back to him. He had come home late,

and now mother was going to be awfully cross. But what was she crying for? He was bewildered. He had only been half an hour late, after all, and was that such a terrible thing? Not at all understanding the violence of his mother’s emotion, he began to explain what had happened. He had stayed longer at Jimmy’s place than he had intended, he confessed. The other boys didn’t have tc go home till 8.30, and the bicycle was such fun. When he had discovered the time, he had run all way home. II

couldn’t have been much more than 8.30. As he neared the house, however, he had seen his mother and father talking with some people on the sidew’alk. Better not let them see him just then, he thought. His mother was bound to be cross and he hated to be taken to task in front of strangers. So he had sneaked down the back lane, in at the side door, and upstairs to his own room without anyone seeing him. He had undressed quickly, got into bed, and fallen asleep almost immediately.

"I'm so sorry, mamma.” he said, in a pleading voice. “I didn't mean to scare you; you know that, don’t you?”

Mrs James didn’t answer. Just at that moment Billy heard voices downstairs, daddy's and some strange’s men’s. Daddy seemed to be excited about something. Billy’s mother jumped up then and rushed to the head of the stairs. She called out: "He’s here! He's all right!” Daddy came bounding up the stairs. "Well, what happened?” he demanded. “Where’d you find him?” “Right here—in bed!” mother answered, smiling through her tears. Then she told daddy the whole story. “Better let him come down and square himself with the police,” daddy said in a funny sort of voice. He was

trying to look stern, but Billy saw that funny little quirk that came when he was very amused at something. Billy slipped on his dressing gown and followed his parents downstairs. Two big policemen were standing in the living room. “So this is the young man who has

given all the trouble,” one of them said, with a laugh. “Yes, and he was in bed and asleep all the time we were looking for him,” father explained. The second policeman tweaked Billy’s cheek. “It’s all right this time, young man, but don’t go playing tricks on your parents like that again.” He turned to father, whose face was still a bit white, despite the twinkle in his eye, and added, “Takes quite a bit out of one, doesn’t it? I'm a father myself, so I know!”