Girl to Come Home To Read Free Page B

once
! Am I dreaming, or is this real?”
    She passed her frail, trembling hand over eyes that had grown weary watching out the window all these months for her lads.
    “This is real, Mom!” said Jeremy, and he hugged her again. “And where’s Dad? Don’t tell me he’s gone to the village! We can’t wait to see him.”
    “No, he’s here somewhere,” said the mother’s voice, full of sweet motherly joy. “He just got back from bringing Kathleen from her day at the hospital, nursing. He went out to milk the cow. Kathie, oh, Kathie! Father! Where are you?
The boys
have come!”
    There was a rush down the stairs, and the pretty Kathleen sister was among them, and the kindly father, beaming upon them all. It was a wonderful time. And good old Hetty came in for her share of greeting, too.
    And then the boys hung their coats and caps up on the hall rack, in all the glory of gold braid and decorations, dumped their baggage on the hall table and chair, and went to the big living room where the father had already started a blaze in the ever-ready fireplace that was always prepared for the match to bring good cheer.
    Then as they sat there talking, just looking at one another—even old Hetty having a part of the moment—smiling, beaming joy to one another, somehow all the terrible impressions, so indelibly graven in the consciousness of those fighters who had returned, were somehow softened, gentled, comforted by the sight and sound of beloved faces, precious voices, till for the time the past terrible years were erased. It seemed almost like a look into a future where heaven would wipe out the sorrows of earth.
    Then, softly, old Hetty slipped out into the kitchen. She knew what to do, even if Mrs. Graeme had not given that warning look. So many times, dark days, when there had come no expected letters, and news was scarce and bad when it did come, these two good women had brightened the darkness by making plans of what they would do, when, and if, the boys did come suddenly, unexpectedly.
    Hetty hurried to the freezing plant and got out her chickens. All the children home now, all the family together at last. And Hetty was as happy over the fact as any of the family, for they were her family, the only family she had left anymore.
    And presently there was the sweet aroma of frying chicken, a whiff of baking biscuits at the brief opening of the oven door, the fragrant tang of applesauce cooking. Oh, it was going to be a good supper, if it
was
hastily gotten together. There would be also mashed potatoes and rich brown gravy, Hetty’s gravy, they knew of old. And there were boiling onions, turnips adding to the perfume. Celery and pickles. They could think it all out in anticipation, and Mother Graeme could smile and know that all was going on as she had planned. Little lima beans. Her nose was sensitive to each new smell. There would be coffee by and by, and there was a tempting lemon meringue pie, the kind the boys loved, in the cold pantry. The boys would not be missing anything of the old home they loved.
    They had asked about the horse and the cow and the dogs, the latter even now lying adoringly at the feet of their returned masters, wriggling in joy over their coming.
    They had heard a little of the welfare of near neighbors, a few happenings in the village, the passing of an invalid, the sudden death of a fine old citizen, but by common consent there had been no mention yet of the group of young people who had been used to almost infest the house at one time, when the boys were at home before the war. Of course many of the men and a few of the girls were in the service, somewhere, and there was a shadow of sadness that no one was quite willing to bring upon their sweet converse, in this great time of joy. Jeremy, sitting quietly, watching his mother’s sweet, happy face, suddenly realized that she had not ventured to tell them about any of their old friends and comrades, and he wondered again if she knew what had