Rock Island Argus. (Rock Island, Ill.) 1893-1920, 1909-12-09
The Argus Daily Short Story
His Homecoming BY Frank H. Sweet
Copyrighted. 1908. by Associated Literary Press

1t was the hour of noon. A tall. sal
low faced man sat on the barnyard
wall. gazing over his rocky fields with
slow. speculative eyes. He had finish
ed his dinner and was now waiting for
the help.
Every few minutes he glanced i'm
patiently toward the door Of the long
back kitchen.
At last he muttered something under
his breath and slid heavily from the
wall At the same moment he saw q
boy approaching.
Does Mrs. Carter live here?' the
boy asked briskly as he paused In
front of the man.
shes stayin' here just now" was
the answer. 81 guess you'll find her
In the house,
The boy walked on past the barnyard
and up the clam shelled lined path to
the front door of the old farmhouse.
as Mrs. Carter in?'' he asked Of the
little old woman who opened the door.
Round in the kitchen, eatin' her
dinner" was the mumbling answer.
MEN folks eat fust here. Who be ye?"
But the boy had already left the
step and was on his way round to the
kitchen.
The door was partly open. and he
could see a long table, around which
were seated a dozen or more old wo-
men and children. He knocked gently
and repeated his question.
A sweet faced old woman rose and
came to the door.
'T am Mrs. Carter" she said pleas
antly. ''What do you wish"'
But the boy could not answer.
He felt all those curious eyes upon
him, and there was a lump in his
throat and a terror OF something he
could not understand.
IL wish to see you" he STAN
mered at length
every well. Suppose we go into the
sitting room. We can talk better
there"
He followed her through the long
kitchen into a big square room that
was scantily furnished. The old wom-
an motioned him to a chair by the
window where the light rested full
upon his face.
Now" she began. then stopped, and
a strange look came into her eyes.
''Who are you?" she asked in
troubled voice. 81 am getting old and
do not remember as used to. But l
have seen you somewhere
He rose from the chair.
mo. you have never seen me before"
he replied, but folks used to say that
1 looked like father. l am John Car
ter. Why don't you welcome me,
grandmother"
She trembled and gazed at him ca
gerly.
Johns boy--come homer she said
vaguely. Then a flush came into her
faded cheeks and a glad light into her
eyes. And has-has John come%' she
asked.
My father died last fall The boys
voice was very calm. but in it was a
depth of pain which be strove vainly
to conceal. His last wish was for
me to come home. He said there had
been some misunderstanding between
him and Uncle Richard, but that his
death would make it all right and that
l would be welcome. Is Uncle Richard
here?"
Richard died many years age He
told me the whole story and wanted
Johns forgiveness. Poor Richard. Poor
John"
In the dim old eyes was a freshen-
ing of the old pain. and the boy saw
it, and his own face grew wistful and
sympathetic.
Dear grandmother he said softly.
The old woman smiled and tried to
rouse herself.
you and are all there is left she
said. I'VE will not speak of the quar-
rel any more. They have made it up
before this" Then she took his strong
young hand between her two wrin-
kIed ones and stroked 1t tenderly.
''How did you find me, Jackyg' she
asked, using the pet name she had
given his father many years before. 1
"a man on the road told me that you
lived in the big house by the pond. II
was easy to find,
and did you come all the way from
Mexico alore?r
Yes: am used to travelling did
not mind 1t much EXCEPT for its being