THE PROMISE

No one said a word until Gilby Pitts's truck was safely down the road.

Then Thomas let out a long breath. "That Gilby!" he muttered.

"Do you think he suspected anything?" Mary said, bringing Jon back into the room.

"Probably not. He's just nosy. I only wish he hadn't seen the boy this morning-but maybe I've calmed him down enough so he won't do anything." He grimaced suddenly at his daughter. "Thanks Sally for snatching the boots. That was quick thinking."

"I deserve a dime for that," Sally said pertly, holding out her hand. "Fork over!" she demanded. "Don't be a stingy-puss."

"Mercenary wretch," he said teasingly, giving her the dime.

He stooped and kissed her on her forehead.

"I'm not a mercenary," she said. "See, I can give as well as receive." She pressed the dime into Jon's hand. "It's yours, and, and I hope you stay with us a long time."

Brooks bean, who had temporarily forgotten his chores watched the exchange with interest.

Abruptly he burst out, "say, guy, didn't you ever seen a dime before?"

"His name is Jon," said Mary Bean. "Like short for Jonathan. His name is all he can remember right now."

"But- but, jumping smoke," Brooks persisted, "a dime's a dime. Don't you know what money is, Jon?"

Jon shook his head.

"But you know English, or you wouldn't know what we're saying," Brooks went on baffled. "So you must know about money!"

Mary said firmly, "We've questioned him enough for one evening. After all, if you had a bump on your head as big as his, you wouldn't know which way is up. Jon's had a pretty bad day. What he needs is something to eat and a good night's rest. Tomorrow's Sunday and there'll be plenty time to talk."

"There was another surprise that evening. They had scrambled eggs for supper, along with some of Mary's Bean home-canned vegetables, generous slices of baked ham and chicken, which he refused to touch.

He began to nod at the table and was sound asleep before he could finish undressing for bed.

He shared Brooks' bed that night and wore a pair of old pajamas, much too large for him, that Brooks had outgrown.

In the morning Jon felt nearly as well as ever. Save for the bump on his head which was better, all his swellings had gone down during the night and the ugly bruises had almost vanished.

There was hardly a sign of the scratches that had marred his hands and face. He could walk easily.

"I can't understand it," Mary Bean said at breakfast. "I never saw anyone heal so fast. I've heard of fast healers, but..."

"Oh, it's the special Bean liniment," Thomas said lightly, carefully hiding his own surprise. "Jon, it's an old Indian concoction. Supposed to cure everything but poverty and rabies. If it wasn't for the poverty restriction, I could sell it in shop and make a fortune on it."

"Aw, Dad," Brooks began, but Sally said brightly, "Why don't we rub some on Jon's head? Maybe it would bring back his memory!"

Jon laughed. He knew she meant it, which made it all the funnier.

The others laughed with him, then looked at him curiously.

Thomas Bean said, "It's good to hear you laugh, Jon that means your voice will be coming back soon as well as your memory. Then we can locate your folks." He paused, frowning. "What I can't understand is why there was no mention of you on the radio this morning. Ordinarily, in this mountain country, if anyone gets lost, you hear about it first thing on the local station, and search parties go out. But there wasn't a word."

Mary Bean murmured, "I hope it isn't like what happened over beyond the gap last summer."

Brooks said, "Jon, some tourists drove off the mountain, but nobody ever knew about it for a week. Some hikers just happened to stumble over their car. Everybody in it was stone dead."

"Brooks!" his mother scolded despairingly. "You shouldn't-"

"Aw, he didn't wander off from any wrecked car," Brooks told her. "I know. I asked him about it while we were getting dressed. Jon doesn't know more about cars than he does about money."

Thomas Bean blinked. "Is that true, Jon?"

"Yes," said Jon, using his first English word.

"He spoke!" Sally cried, delighted. "Maybe some of the liniment got on his tongue."

Neither Thomas nor Mary laughed. They glanced at each other, their eyes shadowed with questions. Mary Bean said, "Thomas, I won't go to church this morning. I'll stay home with Jon. Why don't you go on with Brooks and Sally and sort of nose around…."

"Um, okay. I follow you. I'll see what I can pick up-without saying anything.

"Right. Now Brooks," she said, "you and Sally listen to me carefully. I don't want either of you to mention a word about Jon to a soul. Understand?"

"Yes ma'am," said Brooks. "I'm not dumb."

"But why shouldn't we mention him?" Sally asked. "I think Jon's nice, don't you?"

"Of course he is, dear. And we want to protect him. Remember how Mr. Gilby was last night?"

"Oh, him!" Sally wrinkled her nose in distaste.

"So you see how it is dear. There are too many things about Jon that people like Mr. Gilby can't understand-and they could make all kinds of, well, difficulties. Will you promise to keep Jon a secret?

"I promise, Mommy."

"That's my girl," said Thomas, smiling at her. "Better get ready, you two. We don't want to be late."

When they were gone, Mary Bean went to the radio and tuned it carefully to the local station. She listened to the news report, and then shook her head.