I felt that I had been away from home for ages, and wondered if my folks looked natural, if they would know me at first sight, and if the town had changed much during my absence.
When I alighted from the train at Clyde, I met several acquaintances who simply said, "How are you Perry? How are the folks?"
Finally I met one man who said, "How did it happen you didn't go to New York?"
Another one said:
"When you going to start on your trip, Perry? Where'd you get your fiddle?"
I then started for the farm, and on my arrival found no change in the appearance of any of the family.
My mother said I looked like a corpse.
Mr. Keefer said he was glad to see me, but sorry about that cussed old fiddle.
