He brought the children to visit me the first day that I came home--to a
home where I was now to live alone.

I sat on the little porch above the river bank, by the wall of
blossoming creeper whose tendrils she had once embraced, bringing her
cheek intrepidly against the blossoms of that year, and saw him come
slowly up the path. He seemed so sadly alone because of the two little
creatures that followed him.

I placed a chair for Solon and was confronted by my namesake.

"Did they shoot your arm off in the war?" he asked.

"Yes, in the war."

He patted the empty sleeve, and his eyes beamed with discovery.

"What did you have your sleeve rolled up for when your arm was shot?"

I made plain to him the mystery of the whole sleeve.

"She often spoke of you," said Solon. "She seemed to think you would
like to be a help to us if you could."

I turned to greet the woman child, but she had strayed into the house. I
heard her shouts from my bedroom. Then she came running to us, cooing in
helpless joy.

"Candy--candy--Uncle Maje--lovely candy--all pink and dusty."