THE TOMMY MYTH
On the evening before the christening, Aaron Latta, his head sunk farther into his shoulders, his beard gone grayer, no other perceptible difference in a dreary man since we last saw him in the book of Tommy's boyhood, had met the brother and sister at the station, a barrow with him for their luggage. It was a great hour for him as he wheeled the barrow homeward, Elspeth once more by his side; but he could say nothing heartsome in Tommy's presence, and Tommy was as uncomfortable in his. The old strained relations between these two seemed to begin again at once. They were as self-conscious as two mastiffs meeting in the street; and both breathed a sigh of relief when Tommy fell behind.
"You're bonny, Elspeth," Aaron then said eagerly. "I'm glad, glad to see you again."
"And him too, Aaron?" Elspeth pleaded.
"He took you away frae me."
"He has brought me back." "Ay, and he has but to whistle to you and away you go wi' him again. He's ower grand to bide lang here now."
"You don't know him, Aaron. We are to stay a long time. Do you know Mrs. McLean invited us to stay with her? I suppose she thought your house was so small. But Tommy said, 'The house of the man who befriended us when we were children shall never be too small for us.'"
"Did he say that? Ay, but, Elspeth, I would rather hear what you said."
"I said it was to dear, good Aaron Latta I was going back, and to no one else."
"God bless you for that, Elspeth."