was she by these reflections and others rising from them that she had
forgotten to put sugar in her tea, and was eating wheat bread when her
favorite thin slices of rye loaf were at her hand. The prodigious
inquietude of motherhood had her in its grip, and she had just begun to
tell herself that poor Harry might be sick in an hotel with no one to
look after him when her reverie of love and fear was dispelled in a
moment by the cheerful sound of Harry's whistle.

The next moment she was on the porch to welcome him. If his delay was
wrong, she had quite forgotten the wrong; there was nothing in her heart
but mother love, running over and expressing itself in her beaming eyes,
her smiling face, her outstretched hands, and her joyful words. She
kissed him fondly and between laughing and crying led him into the house
and straight to her little tea-table.

"There is room enough for you, my dear, dear lad! Where have you been
this ever so long?" she asked. "I was looking for you last Saturday
night--and John is home again, thank God, and----"

"I know John is home, mother. I was at the mill. My horse met me at
Oxbar Station, and as I was riding, I called at the mill to look at my
mail, and so finding John there, I stopped and had a chat with him."

"I am glad of that. What did he say to thee? He was feeling very bad, I
know, about the Naylor boys. I wonder what makes thee even thyself with
that low set. Thy father will be angry, if he knows, and Greenwood
thinks he is sure to know if Naylors are meddling in his family or his
affairs. Greenwood speaks very badly of the whole crowd--living and
dead."