“And there she is!” he exclaimed, darting forward to meet a woman now hurrying toward him.
In a moment Bobby, weeping and laughing, was rushing into the arms of his own dear mother.
It was a tensely dramatic moment. Those concerned in the play gazed in awe; then realizing the tremendous strain thus taken off mother and son, they entered into the joy of the moment.
Compton was the first to advance and greet the happy mother.
“You remember me, Barbara?”
“Indeed and indeed I do! I was thinking of you yesterday—thinking of the past. And I have something that I want to say to you.”
“He’s the best man in the world, mamma,” said Bobby enthusiastically. “He’s treated me as though I were his own son. Why, uncle, why have you got your head down?”
“I didn’t know it,” said Compton. “But anyhow, I do not feel fit to look upon your dear mother’s face.”
The impending awkwardness was averted by the quick approach of the three children.
“Oh, Mrs. Vernon!” exclaimed Peggy, her dark eyes luminous and her olive complexion alive with rosy emotion, “I’m almost as happy as you!” And Peggy threw her arms about Barbara’s neck.