Grandmother wondered, then, why they didn’t come, and went to look out of the window, putting up both hands, to keep the light of the room from her eyes; then opened the outside door, to listen for the whistle; then went to look at the kitchen clock; then came back, saying it was a good deal past the time, and what could be the matter?
She little knew who was behind, following her on tiptoe into the room. William Henry himself! He was creeping in at the sink room door, just as she turned to come back from looking at the clock, and followed softly behind. She didn’t notice how very smiling we all looked. Billy shook his finger at us, to hush us.
“I hope there hasn’t anything happened to the cars,” said she.
“I hope so too!” shouted Billy. And, by a miraculous jump, he planted himself, square foot, in front of his grandmother, who, of course, walked straight into his arms!
Then everybody shouted, and clapped, and shook hands, and kissed. The cap got twisted about, and as if there were not confusion enough, Cousin Joe began to caper about, and to play on his accordion tunes that were never played before!
Such a splendid fellow as Billy was! Such a hearty, laughing, breezy fellow, with his thick head of hair, “not so red as it was,” and his honest, good-natured face! I didn’t wonder they were all so glad to see him.
“Welcome home, shipmate!” shouted Cousin Joe. “Welcome home! How long’ll you be in port?” And worked away at Billy’s hand as if he’d been pumping out ship.
“’Most a week,” said Billy. “Mind my forefinger.”
“Don’t take long to stay at home a week,” said Cousin Joe, tossing up his accordion.
“That’s so,” said Uncle Jacob. “Come, let’s be doing something!”