"Ben, Ben, how could you! Come here; my eyes are failing me, Ben, but my heart will never fail me.—Jamie, prepare for him his old room, and leave us to talk together!"
"I will go out to Mrs. Mecom's, and tell her that Benjamin has come home."
"Yes, yes, go and call Jenny."
They talked together long: of Josiah, now gone; of Uncle Benjamin, long dead; and of Parson Sewell, and the deacons of the South Church, who had passed away.
The door opened. Jenny again stood before him. She led on a boy by the hand, and said to her portly brother:
"This, Benjamin, is Benjamin."
They talked together until the tears came.
He heard the whir of the swallows' wings in the chimney.
"The swallows come back," he said, "but they will never come again. It fills my heart with tenderness to hear these old home sounds."
"No, they will never come back from the mosses and ferns under the elms," said his mother. "The orioles come, the orchards bloom, and summer lights up the hills, and the leaves fall, but they will know no more changes or seasons. And I am going after their feet into the silence, Ben; I have almost got through. You have been a true son in the main, and Jenny has never stepped aside from the way. Always be good to Jenny."