He turned over in his own bed, his bed, and smelt the sweet
breath of the honeysuckle coming in at the window, heard the thrushes
singing their evening song up the street. The sea had been great, but
Oh, you Sabbath Valley! Out there was the water spout, and some day he
would be strong enough to shin down it, and up it again. He would play
football this Fall, and run Mark's car! Mark, grave, gentle, quiet,
sitting beside him till he got asleep, and his mother not knowing, down
the street, and Miss Lynn--!
"Mark--you'll tell Miss Marilyn about it all?" He opened his eyes to
murmur lazily, and Mark promised still gravely.
He shut his eyes and drifted away. What was that the Chief had told him
down at Economy in the car? Something about three strange detectives
stepping off the train one day and nabbing Pat? And Pat was up at Sing
Sing finishing his term after A.W.O.L. Was that straight or only a
dream? And anyhow he didn't care. He was home again, Home--and
forgiven!
Night settled sweetly down upon Sabbath Valley, hiding the brilliant
autumn tinting of the street. Lynn had made a maple nut cake and set
the table for two before she left the Carters, for her mother had
slipped out of the court room and telephoned her, and a fire was
blazing in the little parlor with the lace curtains and asters in every
vase all gala for the returning son. The mother and son sat long before
the fire, talking, pleasant converse, about the time when Mark would
send for her to come and live with him, but not a word was said about
the day. He saw that his friends had helped to save his mother this one
great sorrow that she could not have borne, and he was grateful.
Marilyn, up at the parsonage, with a great thankfulness upon her, went
about with smiling face. The burden seemed to have lifted and she was
glad.
But that night at midnight there came the doctor from Economy driving
hard and stopping at the parsonage. Cherry Fenner was dying and wanted
to see Miss Marilyn. Would she come?