In silence they reached the street and headed mechanically toward home. Micky’s eyes were fixed straight ahead with a faraway look in them and an unconscious smile on his lips. He was picturing to himself Jim’s surprise and delight when he received the “present” they were sending him. Ritter’s face was downcast. He walked rather slouchingly, both hands in his trousers pockets. Now and then he kicked at a stray pebble. At the corner where their ways parted, he stopped abruptly and raised his head, an embarrassed flush on his round face.
“I—I’m glad she’s going,” he said awkwardly. “I—guess it won’t take us so long after all to—to raise that fund over again.”
“Of course it won’t.” Micky grinned and slapped him on the back. “We’ll have it in a jiffy, what with snow coming and sidewalks to clean and all that. Well, see you later, old kid. We’ve only got ten minutes left before school, but I’m going home to snatch some grub. I’m starved.”
Nearly the whole troop assembled to see Mrs. Wright off that afternoon, and the sight of the quaint little old lady in the old fashioned bonnet surrounded by such a throng of boys raised a good deal of comment and speculation amongst the people around the station. Of course she was flustered and bewildered and almost speechless. When she shook hands with each one of the scouts her small, gloved hand trembled and her murmured words of gratitude were scarcely audible. But the look of sublime happiness in her face was more eloquent than any words could be. It brought a curious, tingling thrill to more than one young heart and stirred up a sense of pride and satisfaction at having had a share in something more truly tangible and lasting than the most solid furniture ever made.
That feeling of content lingered even after the train had gone and only the memory remained of a thin, lined face with tremulous lips and shining eyes peering through a dingy window, and a neat, gloved hand waving a scrap of handkerchief with a vehemence they felt instinctively would continue long after the station and the town had disappeared from view.
The eyes of the majority were still fixed upon the train, growing smaller in the distance, when a jovial, booming voice suddenly broke the spell and brought them back to earth.
“Well, boys, seeing somebody off?”
McBride glanced quickly around to meet the smiling gaze of Mr. Baker, one of their troop committee.
“Yes, sir,” he answered. “It’s Mrs. Wright. Jim’s regiment’s ordered to France and he couldn’t get leave. She’s going to—spend Thanksgiving with him.”
“Jim going to France! Well! well! That’s pretty sudden, isn’t it? Still, they’re sending ’em over all the time. I’m glad his mother could make the trip. She’ll feel a lot more comfortable after he’s gone. By the way, how’s the cabin coming on? Got it furnished yet?”