The young man threw his knapsack to the ground and held out both arms to receive all four of them. Even Dixie, unconscious of the mixing-spoon that she held, ran down the trail to meet him. The young teacher alone stayed within the cabin.
“Oh-ee, Uncle Ed, but we’re glad you’ve come home,” Carol said. That was the name the young man had suggested that they call him.
“Home,” he thought. “What a wonderful word that is!” He had never really had a home, for, although his aunt had seemed to care for him, she had been too nervous to have children around, and so he had been sent to a military academy, and from then, until he became a full-fledged engineer, nine months of every year he had been in a school of some sort, and even the three months of vacation had been spent in hotels at fashionable resorts. This log cabin in the Nevada mountains had been more of a home than he had ever before known.
“Where’s Miss Bayley?” Carol asked, looking back at the open door in surprise. “Why didn’t she come out?”
The girl-teacher heard. She couldn’t have explained to herself why she had remained in hiding when she so longed to greet her good friend.
“Here I am,” she called gayly, appearing at that moment on the porch. With a glad exclamation the young engineer leaped forward, both hands outstretched. “Josephine,” he said in a low voice, “have you decided? Did you miss me?”
Miss Bayley had become mistress of her emotions. “Of course we all missed you,” she said, looking frankly into the fine, gray eyes that told her so much. Then she added, turning to the older Martin girl, “Dear, hadn’t we better have supper now?” Then, to the younger, “You see, Carol, I did well to set out a sixth plate.”
The young man smiled as he followed the young woman indoors, and began to wash at the kitchen pump, as he had been wont to do in the days when he was one of the family, for, try as she might to appear indifferent, Josephine Bayley’s manner and expression had assured him that his love was returned.
Such a merry supper followed. Mr. Edrington had many an adventure to relate. He had met interesting and queer characters in the Rockies, where he had been inspecting the putting-through of a tunnel.
The meal was half over when Dixie suddenly thought of something. “Mr. Edrington,” she exclaimed, “there was a very fine-looking old lady on the stage-coach to-night. I forgot to mention, it. Your coming sort of drove all my other thoughts away. Do you think that maybe it might be your aunt?”