With silent tread I stole to the parlor door. At my old seat by the window was Emily Warren, writing on a portfolio in her lap. For a second a blur came over my vision, and then I devoured her with my eyes as the famishing would look at food.

Had she changed? Yes, but only to become tenfold more beautiful, for her face now had that indescribable charm which suffering, n.o.bly endured, imparts. I could have knelt to her like a Catholic to his patron saint.

She felt my presence, for she looked up quickly. The portfolio dropped from her lap; she was greatly startled, and instinctively put her hand to her side; still I thought I saw welcome dawning in her eyes; but at this moment Zillah sprang into my arms and half smothered me with kisses. Her cries of delight brought Reuben tearing down the stairs, and Mrs. Yocomb, hastening from the kitchen, left the mark of her floury arm on the collar of my coat as she gave me a motherly salute.

Their welcome was so warm, spontaneous, and real that tears came into my eyes, for I felt that I was no longer a lonely man without kindred.

But after a moment or two I broke away from them and turned to Miss Warren, for after all my Thanksgiving Day depended upon her.

She had become very pale, but her eyes were glistening at the honest feeling she had witnessed.

I held out my hand, and asked, in a low voice, "May I stay?"

"I could not send you away from such friends, Mr. Morton," she said gently, "even had I the right," and she held out her hand.

I think I hurt it, for I grasped it as if I were drowning.

Reuben had raced down to the barn to call his father, who now followed him back at a pace that scarcely became his age and Quaker tenets.

"Richard," he called, as soon as he saw me, "welcome home! Thee's been a long time coming, and yet thee's stolen a march on us after all.

Reuben was just going for thee. How did thee get here? There's no train so early."

"Oh, I came last night. A ship's cable couldn't hold me the moment I could get away."

"Mother, I think that's quite a compliment to us old people," he began, with the humorous twinkle that I so well remembered in his honest eyes.

"Has thee seen Adah?"

"Yes, indeed, and she sent more love than I could carry to you all. She looked just lovely, and I nearly forgot to go down town that morning."

Miss Warren was about to leave the room, but the old gentleman caught her hand and asked:

"Where is thee going, Emily?"

"Pardon me; I thought you would all have much to say to Mr. Morton."

"So we have, to be sure. We won't get half through to-day, but that's no reason for thy leaving us. We are all one family under this roof, thank G.o.d, and I'm going to thank Him to-day in good old style and no make-believe;" and he kept her hand as she sat down by him.

"If you knew how homesick I've often been you would realize how much good your words do me," she replied gratefully.

"So thee's been homesick, has thee? Well, thee didn't let us know."

"What good would it have done? I couldn't come before."

"Well, I am kind of glad thee was homesick. The missing wasn't all on our side. Why, Richard, thee never saw such a disconsolate household as we were after Emily left. I even lost my appet.i.te--didn't I, mother?--and that's more than I've done for any lady since Ebenezer Holcomb cut me out of thy company at a picnic--let me see, how many years ago is it, mother?"

"Thee doesn't think I remember such foolishness, I hope," said the old lady; but with a rising color almost pretty as the blush I had seen so recently on Adah's face.

Mr. Yocomb leaned back and laughed. "See mother blush," he cried. "Poor Ebenezer!"

"Thee'll want more than light nonsense for thy dinner by and by, so I must go back to the kitchen."

As she turned away she gave a sweet suggestion of the blushing girl for whom Ebenezer had sighed in vain, and I said emphatically, "Yes, indeed, Mr. Yocomb, you may well say 'Poor Ebenezer!' How in the world did he ever survive it?"

"Thee's very sympathetic, Richard."

Miss Warren looked at him threateningly.

I tried to laugh it off, and said, "Even if he had a millstone for a heart, it must have broken at such a loss."

"Oh, don't thee worry. He's a hale and hearty grandfather to-day."

Miss Warren broke into a laugh that set all my nerves tingling. "Yes,"

she cried, "I thought it would end in that way."

"Why, Emily, bless thee!" said Mrs. Yocomb, running in, "I haven't heard thee laugh so since thee came."

"She's at her old tricks," said her husband; "laughing at Richard and me."

I found her merriment anything but rea.s.suring, and I muttered under my breath: "Perdition on Ebenezer and his speedy comfort! I hope she don't cla.s.s me with him."

Very soon Mrs. Yocomb appeared again, and said: "Father, thee must take them all out to drive. I can't do anything straight while I hear you all talking and laughing, for my thoughts are with you. I've put salt into one pie already. A Thanksgiving dinner requires one's whole mind."

"Bustle, bustle, all get ready. Mother's mistress of this house on Thanksgiving Day, if at no other time. We're commanded to obey the 'powers that be,' and if the woman who can get up such a dinner as mother can isn't a 'power,' I'd like to know where we'll find one. I'm very meek and respectful on Thanksgiving morning. Get on thy wraps, Emily. No mutiny before dinner."

She seemed very ready to go, for I think she dreaded being left alone with me. I, too, was glad to gain time, for I was strangely unnerved and apprehensive. She avoided meeting my eyes, and was inscrutable.

In a few moments we were in the family rockaway, bowling over the country at a grand pace.

"Mother's shrewd," said Mr. Yocomb; "she knew that a ride like this in the frosty air would give us an appet.i.te for any kind of a dinner, but it will make hers taste like the Feast of Tabernacles. Let 'em go, Reuben, let 'em go!"

"Do you call this a Quaker pace?" asked Miss Warren, who sat with Zillah on the back seat.

"Yes, I'm acting just as I feel moved. Thee's much too slow for a Friend, Emily. Now I'll wager thee a plum that Richard likes it.

Doesn't thee, Richard?"

"Suppose a wheel should come off," I suggested. "I'm awfully nervous to-day. I was sure the train would break down or run off the track last night; then I had horrible dreams at the hotel."

"Why, Mr. Morton!" Miss Warren exclaimed, "what did you eat for supper?"

"Bless me! I don't know. Come to think of it, I didn't have any."

"Did thee have any breakfast?" asked Mr. Yocomb, who seemed greatly amused.

"I believe so. I went through the motions."

"Drive slow, Reuben; Richard's afraid he'll have his neck broken before dinner;" and they all had a great laugh at my expense.

"I've won the plum this time," cried Miss Warren.