Part 11

Simeon emerged from the wicket gate, looking about with happy glance. The popcorn boy, scurrying to his place, the lights flaring and blazing, cabmen shouting--it was beautiful-all of it. He fell into the old, brisk walk and John, hurrying beside him, could hardly keep pace with it... . Joy was everywhere tonight--sound and bustle and quick-moving crowd. The nervous, hurrying frame vibrated to the city as a child to its mother’s touch, or the heart to music.... He was back among his own--exile was done.... They pressed upon him--past him--around him. He jostled elbows, and was glad. He could have stretched out his hands to them--every one. The grasp of the old Scotchman’s fingers lingered with him still--It crept np his arm in tiny thrills and warmed his heart. He must do something better for Tomlinson. There was strength in the old man still--with a grip like that! He rubbed his hand and shook his fingers a little ruefully at the very thought of it. How the old fellow had loomed--there on the platform--tall and grim! Then--in a flash--he saw him... in the green room, his head lifted high, his face stem... the very scent of the room was in the vision, pungent and fresh.

He drew a quick breath and threw back his head with a little impatient gesture. “I shall never get out of those woods,” he said. “I can smell them--yet! lean smell them here.”...

The boy glanced at him with swift twinkle. “Look behind you, sir.”

Simeon flashed back a quick look. Behind them was the porter, laden with bags and mgs. and bundles, and on his great shoulders the green branches swayed and nodded as he moved. They framed the big face with its gleaming smile--like some grotesque, dark-skinned dryad in the smoky station.

Simeon’s eye sought the boy’s--a little anxiously, it seemed, “Going to trim the office?” he said.

He laughed back. “I ’m carrying them home to her.”

He called a carriage, and the porter stowed away the boxes and bags and mgs, piling the mass of pine and spruce on the seat in front of them till the carriage was filled with its subtle fragrance.

Simeon leaned forward in the half light and plucked a little spray of the cedar, placing it in his coat. “That is for me,” he said, smiling a little, as he buttoned the coat over it, “the rest is for her.”

The great office building loomed at the right as they drove, and he glanced out quickly. “Same old place!” he said. His face wore a contented look and his hand reached out, in the dim light, to the stubby one resting on the boy’s knee and closed upon it for a moment with firm grasp.... “Tomorrow, Boy,” he said, “we begin again.”

“Tomorrow, sir,” replied the boy.

He entered the house lightly, but not so lightly that her sensitive ear did not catch the sound and hold itself attent to listen--“John?” Her voice searched the darkness. “John?--Is it you?”

He came in swiftly--“Bad mother!” He dropped on his knees beside her and laid his cool cheek to hers.... “Bad mother--to lie awake!” Her hand reached up to stroke his face.... “How fragrant you are--like the woods!”

The fingers strayed a little and touched the feathery sprays and lingered--questioning. “It is the woods! You have brought me the woods!” The little cry of joy trembled in her voice. “I shall sleep now.”

He bent and kissed her. “Good-night, mother.”

“Good-night, my son..”

In the dusky, fragrant room she fell asleep, like a child, and she dreamed that she was-a child and wandered in a wood and that an angel with shining eyes came to her and walked with her under the green branches and when he went away she cried to him and he turned and kissed her and said--

“I have brought your breakfast, mother.” So she wakened to another day.

END.