He turned frequently
towards the door, as if he expected some one to follow him. "All for
me?" he kept asking. "All for me and Marm Lucy, Hildy? Ye--ye ain't
expectin' nobody else to tea, now?"
"No," said Hilda, wondering. "Of course not. Who else is there to come?
Bubble has sprained his ankle, you know, and Pink--"
"Yes, yes; I know, I know!" said the farmer, still with that backward
glance at the door. And then, as he heard some noise in the yard, he
added hurriedly: "At the same time, ye know, Hildy, people do sometimes
drop in to tea--kind o' onexpected-like, y' understand. And--and--all
this pretty show might--might seem to--indicate, ye see--"
"Jacob Hartley? what are you up to?" demanded Nurse Lucy, rather
anxiously, as she stood at the shed-door watching him intently. "Does
your head feel dizzy? You'd better go and lie down; you've had too much
excitement for a man of--"
"Oh, you thar, Marm Lucy?" cried the farmer, with a sigh of relief that
was half a chuckle, "Now, thar! you tell Hildy that folks does sometimes
drop in--onexpected-like--folks from a _con_sid'able distance sometimes.
Why, I've known 'em--" But here he stopped suddenly. And as Hilda,
expecting she knew not what, stood with hands clasped together, and
beating heart, the door was thrown open and a strong, cheery voice
cried, "Well, General!" Another moment, and she was clasped in her
father's arms.
THE LAST WORD.
The lovely autumn is gone, and winter is here.
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