as the Elder's custom to sleep after the Sunday's dinner, which
was always a hearty one, lying down on the sofa in the large parlor,
where the closed blinds made a pleasant somberness. Hester passed the
door and looked in on him, as he lay apparently asleep, his long, bony
frame stretched out and the muscles of his strong face relaxing to a
softness they sometimes assumed when sleeping. Her heart went out to
him. Oh, if he only knew! If she only dared! His boy ought to love
him, and understand him. If they would only understand!

Then she went up into Peter Junior's room and sat there where she
had sat seven years before--where she had often sat since--gazing
across at the red-coated old ancestor, her hands in her lap, her
thoughts busy with her son's future even as then. If all the others
had lived, would the quandary and the struggle between opposing
wills have been as great for each one as for this sole survivor?
Where were those little ones now? Playing in happy fields and
waiting for her and the stern old man who also suffered, but knew not
how to reveal his heart? Again and again the words repeated
themselves in her heart mechanically: "Wait on the Lord--Wait on the
Lord," and then, again, "Oh, Lord, how long?"

Peter Junior returned early from the Ballards', since he could not see
Betty, leaving the field open for Martha and her guest, much to the
guest's satisfaction. He went straight to the room occupied by Richard
whenever he was with them, but no Richard was there. His valise was
all packed ready for his start on the morrow, but there was no line
pinned to the frame of the mirror telling Peter Junior where to find
him, as was Richard's way in the past. With a fleeting glance around
to see if any bit of paper had been blown away, he went to his own
room and there he found his mother, waiting. In an instant that long
ago morning came to his mind, and as then he went swiftly to her,
and, kneeling, clasped her in his arms.

"Are you worried, mother mine? It's all right. I will be careful and
restrained. Don't be troubled."

Hester clasped her boy's head to her bosom and rested her face against
his soft hair. For a while the silence was deep and the moments burned
themselves into the young man's soul with a purifying fire never to be
forgotten. Presently she began speaking to him in low, murmuring
tones: "Your father is getting to be an old man, Peter, dear, and I--I
am no longer young. Our boy is dear to us--