“He’s somewhere in the wide world, dearie. Sometime, I hope, he’ll come back to us.”
And yet she felt, in her heart, that her “sometime” would not be until Abner Pickett’s tongue was forever still.
“Why did he go away? Was Gran’pap unkind to him? Tell me that, Aunt Martha.”
“Oh, no! I can’t tell you that. I can’t set myself up as a judge between those two. But it’ll all come out right in the end, Dannie; I’m sure of that; it always does. It’s for you and me to do just the very best we can, and not worry ourselves about things we can’t help. Try to do that, Dannie. You’re a brave boy, and I’m proud of you.”
“Thank you, Aunt Martha!”
Again the boy’s attempt to learn something about his father had been foiled, as it had been so often before. He sank down into the porch chair despairingly, and leaned his head on his hand. The full moon, riding gloriously in the eastern sky, shone upon his face and revealed the tears upon his cheeks. In spite of the good woman’s counsel he could not yet repress the longing of his heart.
“I want him so, Aunt Martha!” he exclaimed. “I want him so! If he was dead, as my mother is, I’d never think of it. But somewhere he’s living, and I can’t get to him, and he won’t come to me, and no one will tell me why, and there’s such a mystery about it all. Oh, I can’t understand it!”
Aunt Martha dropped to her knees beside his chair and drew his head down to her shoulder.
“There, there!” she said soothingly, “never mind! It’ll all end happily, I know. You’re tired to-night, and it’s very late. Come, go to bed now, that’s a good boy. Things’ll look brighter in the morning.”
So, with gentle words, she led him to his room, gave him a tender good-night, and then went about her duties, one of those sweet souls that love to smooth out the hard places on life’s pathway for the tender feet of others. Thank Heaven that they live!