Peter went home with her and returned Sunday evening. We were in
the orchard sitting around the Pulpit Stone, where we had,
according to the custom of the households of King, been learning
our golden texts and memory verses for the next Sunday School
lesson. Paddy, grown sleek and handsome again, was sitting on the
stone itself, washing his jowls.
Peter joined us with a very queer expression on his face. He
seemed bursting with some news which he wanted to tell and yet
hardly liked to.
"Why are you looking so mysterious, Peter?" demanded the Story Girl.
"What do you think has happened?" asked Peter solemnly.
"What has?"
"My father has come home," answered Peter.
The announcement produced all the sensation he could have wished.
We crowded around him in excitement.
"Peter! When did he come back?"
"Saturday night. He was there when ma and I got home. It give
her an awful turn. I didn't know him at first, of course."
"Peter Craig, I believe you are glad your father has come back,"
cried the Story Girl.
"'Course I'm glad," retorted Peter.
"And after you saying you didn't want ever to see him again," said
Felicity.
"You just wait. You haven't heard my story yet. I wouldn't have
been glad to see father if he'd come back the same as he went
away.
Pages:
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165