“You won’t ever be a plain farmhorse any more, Susy,” she said. “You’ve been part of an adventure.”
“Like’s not she’ll be too upity to plow at all,” drawled Mr. Neal.
“She’ll plow lots better,”—Pegeen was sure of it “She’ll have something to remember and something to look forward to—’cause anything that’s happened once could happen again. Things like plowing and washing dishes are fun if something has happened and something’s going to happen. Good night, everybody. I s’pose I don’t really need my parasol open but I do love to carry it that way.”
She and Archibald went away up the meadow path, arms full of packages, hearts full of content. It had been a good day.
Mrs. Neal listened to the happy, excited voice of the small girl as it floated back to her on the still evening air.
“Well, Pa,” she said, with smiling satisfaction, “looks as if that child’s guardian angel’d sat up at last and took notice.”
There were lights in the shack. Archibald and Peggy saw them as soon as they turned into the meadow.
“She’s there!” the child cried happily. “I knew she’d wait. She’s splendid about promises. My, isn’t it good to come home!”
To Archibald’s astonishment, it was good to come home. He could not remember ever having had the feeling before. Involuntarily he quickened his steps. The end of a happy day and some one waiting, and the lights of home.
Pegeen ran on ahead, with a shrill shout of greeting, and suddenly a girl’s figure stood in the doorway, silhouetted grayly ’twixt twilight and lamplight.