"He was converted up in Maine, where nobody
knew him, and he never told a soul he was coming till he got here.
No, you can believe what you like, but I'm satisfied at last that
Peg is a witch and that skull of hers does tell her things. She
told me father was coming home and he come!"
"How happy you must be," sighed Sara Ray romantically. "It's just
like that story in the Family Guide, where the missing earl comes
home to his family just as the Countess and Lady Violetta are
going to be turned out by the cruel heir."
Felicity sniffed.
"There's some difference, I guess. The earl had been imprisoned
for years in a loathsome dungeon."
Perhaps Peter's father had too, if we but realized it--imprisoned
in the dungeon of his own evil appetites and habits, than which
none could be more loathsome. But a Power, mightier than the
forces of evil, had struck off his fetters and led him back to his
long-forfeited liberty and light. And no countess or lady of high
degree could have welcomed a long-lost earl home more joyfully
than the tired little washerwoman had welcomed the erring husband
of her youth.
But in Peter's ointment of joy there was a fly or two. So very,
very few things are flawless in this world, even on the golden
road.
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