Cheyenne transporter. [volume] (Darlington, Indian Terr.) 1879-1886, 1886-02-20

more than / do myself. We were
wrong, and the boy was wrong, too.
If we only knew where to find him, we
might make it all right before we die.
I'll warrant he has longed to return, but
pride and fear have kept him back. He
can't know how we long for him, for
he never knew how much we loved
him we never told him!"
"Oh, Esthern
"Well, father, | won't say any more.
All these thoughts have been crowded
dowd in my heart SO long that | had
to speak, and | think it'll do us good,
after all.
She drew nearer and laid her head
on his shoulder, while tears rolled
down her wrinkled cheeks, and thus
they sat far into the night.
The next day, among the families of
the neighboring farmhouses, there
was but one topic of conversation:
The invitation to speud Thanksgiving
with Jeremiah Winters.
The eventful day came at last.
Lucy with a dozen boys and girls.
made the rafters ring with their glad
shouts. Downstairs the best room
was filled with the hum of elderly
voices recounting "old times" while
in the sitting-room the young people
were eating apples and counting the
seeds, with much jest and laughter,
sly glances and bushes.
In the kitchen a long table was
loaded with good things, while Aunt
Esther, with plenty of help, was com
pleting the preparations for dinner.
Uncle Jerry excitedly went from
room to room, trying to appear as if
this sort of thing was Of common oc-
currence in his house. For the first
time in her life, his wife had asserted
her right to entertain her friends, and
now he felt glad that she had perse-
vered. tie was surprised to find what
| pleasant neighbors he had.
1t was night, and the merrymaking
was at its height. The walls echoed
laughter and song, and from every
window lights cleaned far out into
the darkness.
From the village depot, five miles
away, a traveller was walking over the
lonely road as if eager to join the
| Joyous party; but when at length he
came in sight of the many lights, he
| stopped in amazement Nearer and
nearer he came, till through the un-
| shaded windows he saw the friendly
scene within. With a glad smile on
his face he turned away, and, stand
ing in the deep shadow of pine, he
watched long and patiently.
AT last, after host of thanks and
| pleasant 'farewells," all was still and
only three sat in the deserted rooms
A hush fell over them, and they look
ed thoughtfully into the flickering fire.
Lucy, climbing on her uncle's knee,
thanked him so prettily for the days
pleasure that he bent and kissed her
Then, holding out his hand to his wife,
he said:
This little lady has thanked me, but
we both ought to thank you. 1t has
been apleasant day to me-"
This was great deal for this man
to say, and they were silent again, but
each one happy through making others
glad.
Then the door opened and stranger
entered. He was tall and heavily
bearded; but mothers eye
will know her own, and, with CRY
which expressed the yearning of years,
'My boy" she was folded in his
| oIiOhS hpliCC, Wullo dDOuJ IHcul
both were clasped the fathers trem-
bling arms.
No one knew .hoWlopg they sat to.
gether-the long separated family once
more united. Lucy with wide open
eyes, enjoyed to the utmost this
crowning excitement, much pleased
with the tall cousin of whom she had
never heard.
"Oh, John, why did you stay away so
longP" ventured the mother.
II came back once, five years ago,
| and SAW Won and fhthnr thrnnnh the