"It pays to keep hope at the prow, Uncle Darcy!"
And he, rousing up with a start at the familiar call, smiled a welcome and answered as he did when I was a child, the same affectionate light in his patient old eyes.
"Aye, lass, it does that!"
"And we're coming into port with all flags flying!"
Then he knew. The trembling joy in my voice told him.
"You've heard from Richard!" he exclaimed quaveringly, "and you've come to tell the old man first of all. I knew you would."
And then for a little while we sat and rejoiced together as only two old mariners might, who had each known shipwreck and storm and who had each known the joy of finding happy anchorage in his desired haven.
On the way home I stopped to tell Babe. Good old Babe. She was so glad that the tears streamed down her face.
"Now I can help with your wedding," was her first remark. "Of course, he'll have to be invalided home, for I don't suppose he's more than skin and bone if he's been in the hands of the Germans all this time. But, under the circumstances, you won't mind marrying a living skeleton. I know I wouldn't if I were in your place. He'll be coming right back, of course."