had a piece of old English lace in her hand, which she was carefully
darning. Suddenly she heard John's footsteps and she lifted her head and
listened intently. Then with a radiant face she stood upright just as
John came from behind the laurel hedge into the golden rays of the
setting sun, and her face was transfigured as she called in a strong,
joyful voice,

"O John! John! I've been longing for you days and days. Come inside, my
dear lad. Come in! I'll be bound you are hungry. What will you take?
Have a cup of tea, now, John; it will be four hours before suppertime,
you know."

"Very well, mother. I haven't had my tea today, and I am a bit hungry."

"Poor lad! You shall have your tea and a mouthful in a few minutes."

"I'll go to my room, mother, and wash my face and hands. I am not fit
company for a dame so sweet as you are," and he lifted his right hand
courteously as he passed her.

In less than half an hour there was tea and milk, cold meat and fruit
before John, and his mother watched him eating with a beaming
satisfaction. And when John looked into her happy face he wondered at
his dream in Edinburgh, and said gratefully to himself,

"All is right with mother. Thank God for that!"

She did not talk while John was eating, but as he sat smoking in the
porch afterwards, she said,