“Mother! My mother and the Baby!”
“Welcome home, my child! Welcome home!”
And the Baby cooed and gurgled something that sounded very like “Ome,” without an H.
“Has everybody gone crazy?”
“Not quite!” answered William Bump, appearing from another corner. He was as washed and starched as his wife, and had done for himself even something more, in honor of this great occasion—he was smoothly shaved. He looked years younger than his child had ever seen him and oh! how much happier and more self-respectful. He had found his right place again. He was once more a tiller of the soil; and there is nothing so conducive to true manliness as finding one’s congenial task and feeling the ability to accomplish it.
Mary Jane’s head buzzed with the strangeness and wonder and delight of it all. Yet the explanation was very simple and sensible.
It was impossible but that the McClures should do something to evince their gratitude to the little saver of their child’s and their own lives and they did that which they knew would be most acceptable to her; they gave her this home in the country.
For the house, with its deed was made to Mary Jane Bump, herself; but over the wide fields surrounding it her father was made overseer and farmer, for his old “Boss,” at good but not extravagant wages. The house had long stood empty, ever since the railroad magnate had dropped his former scheme of agriculture on a big scale, but it was in good repair and quite large enough to accommodate even the household of Bump. A coat of paint made it like new and during the cripple’s absence from Dingy street the flitting was accomplished.
Bonny-Gay’s own summer home was near at hand, though she had driven Mary Jane to the cottage by such a roundabout way; and her delight had lain in her knowledge of the happiness that was coming to her friend.
This was a year ago. As yet no cloud has marred the perfect sunshine of Mary Jane’s new life. She now rides to school in a smart little cart, drawn by the sedatest of piebald ponies. She is apt and ambitious and is learning fast. Indeed, she is confidently looking forward to a day in the future when, being both old and wise enough, she shall be matriculated at a certain famous woman’s college; to don the cap and gown whose ample folds shall hide, at last, her physical deformity. God speed you, Mary Jane! and all your happy sisterhood!