The Mount Holly news. [volume] (Mount Holly, Burlington Co., N.J.) 1891-1942, 1914-10-20
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IN the OLD HOME
BY MARY ROBERTS RINEHARr.

ly quiet, though faint sounds came
from the kitchen. where the evening
dishes were being Enthusiastically
SO as not to disturb the hush.
After a while his sister came to him
Her eyes were red and her face was
blotched and swollen The Prodigal
got up awkwardly and shook hands.
How are you. Selma" he asked, re-
turning her nervous clasp.
Pretty WE'LL" she said formally.
I'VE didn't know you were back till
yesterday. The last we heard you
were In Montana"
Il was there for couple of years.
IL just heard this morning about IA
Their. How is he?"
Very low" she answered In q
hushed tone. And then she began to
cry. noiselessly. without attempting
to wipe away the tears that rolled
down her pale cheeks The Prodigal
put out his hand. as If to comfort her;
then he remembered and drew 1t back.
He looked strangely out of place In
the ugly respectability of the room.
He knew it all 80 we'll; the built-in
corner cupboard, with the glass doors,
and his mothers wedding-cups on
hooks just inside; the red and green
cover on the square table; the black
marble clock on the mantel-it was
all the same. except that just beside
him there was a buffet, new and
snowy, with silver-plated tea set on
the top. He OWNED that George had
bought 1t.
His sister was not crying now. She
was inspecting him = his shabby
clothes. his frayed linen, the gray in
his thinning hair. And then some
thing in his face caught her atten-
ton; his chin was working convul-
sively. and there were tears in his
sunken eyes. The lines left by years
OF dissipation were obliterated for the
time. and there remained only grief
and a great regret
Would you like to go up?" she
asked more kindly. All the small
things resentment. anger, bitterness
WOA o 6AAOWO0 uR III tAA4b tAOAbAO
that had come. Then, seeing his hest
tation: Il don't think he will know
YOU. she said.
The Prodigal creaked up the stairs
after her. Instinctively he avoided
the second step from the top; there
had always been a loose board there.
George isn't here" his sister whis-
pered. turning. He has been camp
ing for q week and he can't get back
until morning. The elders from the
church have been taking turns at sit
ting up. Wait until / see II he is
sleeping"
The Prodigal stood on the little land
ing and waited. The house spread out
on three sides of him, smaller than
he had remembered 1t, but otherwise
unchanged. The door was open into
the bare study. There we're books
everywhere-how familiar was that
confusion OF booksl-but the desk was
strangely orderly.
His sister did not come back to him
at once. 80 he went in and sat down.
Even the wallpaper was the same.
Over In the corner. behind the book
cases, would be the pencil-marks
which had registered for years his
annual gain In inches. only-he could
not look And there was his moth
er's picture, in Its black walnut frame,
and under 1t George himself, in queer
plaid dresses and black shoes with
white buttons- He had been taller
than George in those early days; it
was long time ago-a long time.
His sister came to the doorway.
He won't know you." she said. you
can come in"
The dim light Of the lamp was kept
from the sick mans eyes by green
shade on one side of the burner. The
Prodigal stopped inside the doorway
awkwardly. while his sister went over
and smoothed the counterpart.
He doesn't toss around any," she
said. He just lies there"
The Prodigal moved over slowly and
looked down at the old minister's face.
The thin white hair was spread a lit
tie over the pillow. like an aursole.
making the placid face, with its closed
eyes, look frail. almost ethereal. AS
the son looked down the dying man
opened his eyes,
George" he said weakly, and held
out bis thin white hand. The Prodi-
gal was embarrassed; he glanced at
his sister for assistance.
His eyes are bad" she whispered.
If he thinks George La here he'll be
happier"
The man stopped and put his hand
over his fathers. The thin fingers
grtpped his and held them. There was
something in the touch that brought
lump into the mans throat. After
moment when the fingers did not re-
lax, he slipped to his knees beside the
bed. The old man slept again. Except
that he was breathing slowly, 1t might
have been the sleep Of child.
An hour passed, and still the Prod
igal kneit beside the bed Once some
one creaked up the stairs, and after
consultation with Selma, creaked
down again. She came over and
leaned down.
Il told Mr.. Simpson you would stay
for WHILE" she said. "Win you 2"
I'll stay until-until morning.
What he wanted to say was until
the end" but with those fingers
olutching his, he could not frame the
words. And without reason he re-
sented her question. Would he stay
for a while-he, the elder son, and
his father dying?
George win be here in the morn
ing" she whispered, and tiptoed away.
Only tbs night was his, then. After
all the years only few hours, and
those because his father thought he
was some one else.
The old man stirred a little and
wakened His feeble hand was lifted
slowly until 1t rested on the ProdigaIs
bowed head.
You have been a great Joy to me,
George" he said gently-"a great joy.
shall tell your mother. May God
bless you'll" He lay for a few mo-
ments quite still, his eyes on the vel
low roses of the ceiling paper. The
Prodigal groaned. Oh. to turn up
the light, to stand forth in his true
colors for what he was, to beg for
giveness and blessing for himself!
George" the thin voice began
again. 81 have been thinking much
about Harry" The Prodigal drew in
his breath sharply. Il seem to see him
in the corners of the room-every-
where
If he could only say Il am here!"