Little Falls herald. [volume] (Little Falls, Morrison County, Minn.) 1889-1950, 1919-12-26
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WELCOME HOME
BY LIZZIE M. PEABODY.

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q. 1919, by Mcclure Newspaper syndica.-.)
The old mill town seemed STEPPED in
glorious sunshine the day it welcomed
home it's returned sons from the va
riOuS branches of war service: bells
rang, bands played and banners waved
everywhere.
The beautifully staged floats, each
representing it's bit of history, each
bearing loyal men and women who had
in their appointed way fought hard to
help win the war, were also generously
applauded as they passed on their way.
After the parade came the banquet
and speeches, and then dancing in the
town hall. Certainly each returned man
and boy should have felt his heart
warm with appreciation of the hearty
welcome given him. and Stephen
Glenn, honorably discharged that very
day, and who had arrived in town only
a short time before the parade start
ed had honestly appreciated every ef-
fort made in his behalf as returned
soldier, and yet there was a dissatis-
fed look in his dark eyes as they
roved around the hall, even as he
danced with the prettiest girl and best
dancer there.
He was looking for little Betty
Plummer, and she had not yet ap-
peared.
Seven laboriously written letters
which should have passed the censor,
he had sent to her.
Even while keeping step to the gay
music he sorrowfully admitted to him
self that as far as he was concerned
he might as we'll have tied a stone to
each letter and have dropped it into
the deep sea; for he had not heard
from her. Members Of his company
had received letters from the home
town more or less regularly, but the
sensitiveness which made him hide
deep his hurt feelings, counseled 81
lence, and he had asked no questions
of them.
Although he was fond of dancing he
suddenly decided early in the evening
to go home; and as a result soon
found himself walking rapidly in the
direction of the old Plummer home
stead, where Betty lived with her
grandmother, and which was in the
opposite direction from his boarding
place.
Supposing that Betty had stayed
away from the dance in order to avoid
him, he argued to himself-supposing
even that she preferred spending the
evening at home with someone who
had taken his place in her heart.
There really wasn't any reason why he
shouldn't stroll down by the old7fash-
toned gambrel-roofed white cottage
where she lived, and he was soon
standing close. to the old furrowed
stone which after many years Of serv-
ice as part Of the busy old grist
mill had been chosen by Betty's grand
father as suitable stepping stone to
his front door. In the sitting room
there was CHEEKY light and outside
the old-fashioned flowers which grew
about the sides Of the old stone
seemed to sleepily nod to him well
come as they swayed toward him in
the pale moonlight. Then the unex-
pected happened. From force Of habit,
and almost unconscious Of the act, he
raised the old brass knocker and
knocked upon the door.
1t was Betty who came, opened the
door quickly, and then stood gazing at
him.
Without being wholly successful she
tried to veil the look of happiness
which sprang into her blue eyes as she
recognized him, and checking an excla-
nation, with hands hanging Imply by
her sides, she silently waited for him
to speak.
Don't stand there looking like that,
Betty!' he burst out. "You must have
known that couldn't keep away that
I would have to learn from your own
lips your reason for not answering my
letters to you. Maybe they weren't in
teresting, maybe they weren't well
written; but, oh, Betty! couldn't you
have written just once?" Her express
sion changed and she tried to speak
calmly, but her voice trembled and
broke
"You told me You would send your
address, and waited for you to write.
'At first was very patient, and then
but oh, I didn't get any letters,
Stevie-" and for a moment she COW
cred her eyes with both hands.
A feeling of perfect comprehension
crept over him. Couldn't he under
stand we'll enough how hard it had
been to bear the strain of waiting?
Eagerly he caught at her hands and
drew them swiftly away from her face.
"Seven letters, Betty!" he cried.
"Seven letters I wrote and sent and
would have written II more, only
made up my mind at last that you did
not care for my letters, or for me-" In
his voice was the ring of truth. Truth
shone in his clear, young eyes, and all
her doubts and fears vanished; but
with gloomy foreboding he asked:
"Can't you believe me?"
Eyes! Yes" she replied hastily.
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