“Mr. McBratney,” she announced, “will ask the blessing. Bow your heads, you kids!”
“Bless, O Lord, we beseech Thee, this food, forgive our sins, and guide us ever in the light of thy countenance. This we ask in the name of Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.”
An amused smile flickered over William’s face as he winked unnoticed to Evelyn, his wife. Then, plunging his fork into the juicy meat, he proceeded to slice it.
“Dave,” he asked. “How’s your appetite?”
“Pretty good, Bill,” responded McBratney. “It’s a long time since I had a meal off o’ this old table, isn’t it?”
Evelyn Bard, opposite her husband, was busy spreading butter on thick slices of bread for her boys. They stared in silence at the visitor, interrupting their occupation only long enough to accept the buttered bread and to begin chewing it.
McBratney had lost nothing of his swarthy complexion. His dark eyes were just as sharp, but more serious, than formerly. He wore a threadbare, yet neat, grey suit and a plain, blue four-in-hand necktie. Broad of shoulder, he lounged against the edge of the table, gazing half-meditatively at the children.
“Well, Dave,” remarked William, as they all fell to eating, “you hain’t never been back since you went away have you?”
“This is the first time, Bill. I got kind of lonesome to see the old folks; so I thought I’d come down for a few days. My mother tells me that dad has never been satisfied since he sold the farm. She says he drives down here about once a week, just to see how things are going.”
“Yep,” nodded William, “at least once a week, don’t he, Evelyn?”