At
times he noticed it sadly. Laura, who had scarcely ever been home for
dinner, now spent many evenings here. She needed her home for her wedding,
he thought. Each daughter needed it now and then. But as the years wore
slowly on, the seasons when they needed it grew steadily wider and wider
apart....
Early in May, when Roger came home from his office one night he found
Edith's children in the house. From the hallway he could hear their gay
excited voices, and going into the dining room he found them at their
supper. Deborah was with them, and at once her father noticed how much
younger she appeared--as she always did with these children who all
idolized her so. She rose and followed him into the hall, and her quiet
voice had a note of compassion.
"Edith's baby is coming," she said.
"Good Lord. Is anything wrong?" he asked.
"No, no, it's all right--"
"But I thought the child wasn't due for three weeks."
"I know, and poor Edith is fearfully worried. It has upset all her plans.
I'd go up and see her if I were you. Your supper is ready; and if you like
you can have it with the children."
There followed a happy boisterous meal, with much expectant chatter about
the long summer so soon to begin at the farm up in the mountains. George,
whose hair was down over his eyes, rumpled it back absorbedly as he told of
a letter he had received from his friend Dave Royce, Roger's farmer, with
whom George corresponded.
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