She bowed her head and it rested on Andy's shoulder. Stern Janie had never done such a thing before, and even at the moment Andy was touched and moved. He smoothed the hair away from the pale face, and gently, lovingly kissed his mother.
"There are strange happenings, Andy," she sighed.
"There are, indeed," he agreed.
"But things about which you know nothing, lad, and—and I must tell you before you go. Get up; dress, son. Ruth and I have made decent your own clothing. I can talk better while you move about. I cannot bear your eyes, my lad." Andy arose at once and began his dressing, keeping his face turned from his mother, but her own was rigidly set toward the window.
"Your father has come back, Andy!"
A strange pause, then:
"My father!" Andy had dropped into a chair. The sentence had deprived him of strength to stand. He knew his mother never wasted words, or made rash statements. His father had come back! And Andy did not know that his father was alive. In fact, knew nothing of him, and that struck him for the first time with stunning force. Janie's back was straight and firm.
"Yes, your father. I kept it all from you. I meant to tell you some day, Andy, but time passed and you asked no questions, and I—I thought everything was past and gone forever. But he has come back."
"Where is he?" asked Andy.
"At home. He has been hurt, and is feverish and ill. He was doing sentinel duty for—for the British, and he received a terrible blow from some one in a cave. I cannot tell what is best to do, Andy, and I must look to you for help."