They were nearer now, running, Stephen bouncing between them, holding tightly to their hands. They were all smiling at him with shining welcoming eyes. He heard the sweet shrillness of their twittering voices as they called to him.
The tears rushed to his eyes. They loved him. By God, they loved him, his children did! Yes, perhaps even Stephen a little. And he loved them! He had for them a treasure-store of love beyond imagination’s utmost reach! It was hard to leave them.
But so the world willed it. A father who had only love and no money—the sooner he was out of the way the better. He had had that unquestioned axiom ground into every bleeding fiber of his heart.
“Oh, Father, Stevie got on his own coat and buttoned every....”
“Yubbers mineself too,” bragged Stephen breathlessly.
“Teacher says the first half of my play....”
They had come up to him now, clambering up and down him, clawing lovingly at him, all talking at once. What good times they had together Thursday afternoons!
“Father, how does the ‘Walrus and the Carpenter’ go after ‘It seems a shame, the Walrus said’? Henry and I told Stevie that far, but we can’t remember any....”
Lester Knapp swung Stephen up to his shoulder and took Henry and Helen by the hand.
“It seems a shame, the Walrus said,” he began in the deep, mock-heroic voice they all adored,