"I was married and my husband was killed through an open switch which wasn't his fault and I never got enough for it. Then Manda, she came to live with me, but it wasn't long till she must go away and get married. I still say to her, 'Manda, why did you come if you were not going to stay?' Then Ellen came and now she is gone. There is no peace but in the grave." Mrs. Lebber wiped away her tears.
Grandfather did not dispute this opinion; he rose feebly, animated by alarm. He must find Ellen quickly.
"You needn't go," said Mrs. Lebber as though he too might as well have stayed away as go so soon. "I have sauerkraut for dinner." She quoted sadly a proverb meant to be cheerful, "Sauerkraut und Speck treibt alle Sorge weg."
A powerful temptation assailed Grandfather, but he resisted it bravely. He must see his lamb.
He found that descending the hill was more difficult than ascending. His knees seemed to have grown too weak to bear him up, and when he reached the station he could go no farther. Snow had begun to fall, and he had no umbrella. He must get home; he prayed God that he might succeed in getting home. He saw the little cottage under the shelter of the old buildings—oh, to be there, to lay his head upon his pillow!
Amos met him at the train, his face full of hungry desire. He knew that it was mad to hope that Grandfather would succeed in persuading Ellen to live at the Kloster, but perhaps she would bring him home. He had had a day of unusual freedom, but he had read none of his books, making of his abstinence a sort of petitionary offering. In the intervals of his teaching he had put the cottage into thorough order. He saw, as he worked, Ellen sitting under the lamplight, Ellen moving about. Perhaps she would help to get the supper as she did in her childhood.
When Grandfather got feebly down from the train, Amos saw for the first time that this was an old, old man. Ellen did not follow, and he guessed as he took his uncle's arm that there was no good news. Grandfather did not speak, and even when they had reached the cottage he sat for a while silently as though waiting for his strength to return.
"I couldn't find her," he said at last.
"Why not? Isn't she with Manda Sassaman's sister?"
"No. She's living with rich people on the main street. I couldn't understand the woman exactly, but I have the name and the number of the house. It's a very worldly place. I've heard how such people occupy their time."