“Hello, Scotty,” Dick cried, “I thought you were not expected till tomorrow.”
“I’m not,” Scott said, “but I could not wait any longer. It certainly seems good to get back.”
“You’ve been away long enough,” Dick growled, “and you have written about like a clam.”
“Well, I’ve been too busy to write much, Dick. I’ve had the time of my life. I had to work for it, but I finished and I’m a full-fledged forester now.”
They were in sight of the house and Scott was looking it over eagerly.
“I’ll come around to hear about it in the morning,” Dick said.
Scott hardly answered him, for as he opened the yard gate he saw his father and mother on the side porch. He dropped the suitcase at the gate and bounded up the steps and into his mother’s arms.
“Mother!” he cried.
She held him silently a moment and then released him to allow him to grasp his father warmly by the hand.
“Welcome home, my boy,” he said quietly; “it’s been a long weary time since you left us.”