The Oakley herald. [volume] (Oakley, Idaho) 1908-1961, 1918-01-18
BACK HOME
BY AGNES G. BROcAN.

John Stewart felt all at once out of
harmony with his surroundings; weary
and worn In mind and body, and
obsessed by the uselessness of his
struggle for fame and fortune. Not
that he had been unsuccessful-John
Stewards name was well known in the
world of business, and those luxuries
which he had long ago considered so
desirable, were now his for the buy
ing-but where was the anticipated
Joy?
Homecoming to the costly apartment
after each of his tiresome trips, with
only the solemn-eyed japanese to bow
him welcome-was not an event to be
looked forward to eagerly. Though
John Stewart coveted neither wife nor
family there was no satisfactory home
atmosphere in the palatial residences
of his friends, where he was guest.
Home? Just what constituted the
word? Stewards mind went back to
the spicy odor of ginger cookies, and a
sunlit kitchen. Then, as if in answer
to his thought, lad passed, whistling,
through the car, his arms filled with
the scarlet berries of the mountain ash.
There had been such a tree before
the homestead doorway, he remem-
bered, and even when snow came the
berries would linger like bright drops
of cheer. Strange, how he had forgot
ten the old place, strange how many
CONGRATULATIONS had been put aside
with the old excuse of business: And
he had been busy, winning that which
now seemed so profitless.
The old house was still tenantless,
people objected to the nearby ceme-
terry, the agent said, and in conse-
quence it was going to ruin. The house
really had not seemed worth troubling
about, but now, with an impulse borne
of the scarlet berries, with an old
homesick longing for-he knew not
what-John Stewart decided to change
cars for Oakville, and walk past the
place. He found the village much as
it had been, when he, a youth, so con-
temptuously left it. On through the
twilight he now went thoughtfully-
past the old graveyard with its trim
cut trees, and there, just before him
dow. So there were tenants after all
He wondered In an excitement long I'M
known, if he might perhaps go inside,
sit before the big fireplace and
remember.
Stealthily he crept to the wide front
window, and a warm glow all at once
seemed to flood his heart. He had not
realized before that the prospect of
empty desolation had kept him away.
Here, now, in the light of the old fire
and shaded lamp, sat a happy family,
a neat little mother busily knitting, the
familiar picture brought quick pang-
two young lads bending companionably
over their books-so he and Charlie
had sat, long ago, Charlie, now lost in
the great world of commerce. And
there at the square piano across the
corner sat a girl
John Stewart caught his breath In
new emotion at sight of her. Long
ago he, too, had known a Youthful
dream of girl in a rose-colored gown,
who should play at evening upon that
same old piano-a girl with eyes as
clear and unafraid. ImpulsveIy he
climbed the oteps and pulled the old
white doorbell. 1t was the girl who
responded to his ring.
mo-" she answered the question,
"the house is not rented" Then frank
ly she continued. 1.-THE agent had of.
Tered them the use of the place, upon
their agreement of keeping it In repair.
They had appreciated the opportunity.
Her brothers had worked the farm
while she was preparing herself to
teach, but If he, the owner disap-
proved" the sweet voice faltered
"why, they would look for other quar-.
ters of course"
And Immediately John Stewart was
standing before the old fireplace, tell
Ing them all, in his inexplainable new
role of humbleness, how very glad he
was to have found them there, the well
coming light of the window, the open
piano with its waiting music. "Why.
| can almost fancy" he added boyishlv.
that ginger cookies are baking out
there In the oven"
The girl in the rose-colored gown
smiled at her mother. "Well, you come
and see" she said.
The old-time vision grew as he fol-
lowed her through the well-known
door-grew and sent some new emo
ton Juggling at his heart as she fell
upon her knees before the oven. "Have
one" she asked merriIy, holding out
pan of fragrant cookies, and then
the little mother appeared.
mo, dear" she gently reprimanded.
perhaps Mr. Stewart will honor us
with his company at tea; 1t might be
Ike coming home"
so the girl stood upon the little
porch much later, waiting with her lam
tern to light him down the road.
Il may come again?" he asked her.
For moment her hand thrilled In
his clasp, for moment his eyes grew
tender before her own. Eyes. if II
would seem like coming back home"
she replied.
Il have discovered the meaning of