She had placed the miniature back in its place and sat where her eye caught the smile from his lips when she lifted her head from the embroidery on her lap.
The band was playing a stirring strain in the Square. She could hear the tumult and the shouts of the crowds about the speaker's stand as they read the bulletins of the election. The darkness couldn't hold him many more minutes.
She rose with a soft laugh and turned on the lights, walked to the window, looked out and listened to the roar of the cheering when Norton made his appearance. The band struck up another stirring piece. Yes, it was "Hail to the Chief!" He had come.
She counted the minutes it would take for him to elude his father and reach the house. She pictured the smile on his face as he threaded his way through the throng and started to her on swift feet. She could see him coming with the long, quick stride he had inherited from his father.
She turned back into the room exclaiming:
"Oh, foolish heart, be still!"
She seated herself again and waited patiently, a smile about the corners of her lips and another playing hide and seek in the depths of her expressive eyes.
Tom had entered the house unobserved by any one and softly tipped into the library from the door directly behind her. He paused, removed his hat, dropped it silently into a chair and stood looking at the graceful, beautiful form bending over her work. The picture of this waiting figure he had seen in his day-dreams a thousand times and yet it was so sweet and wonderful he had to stop and drink in the glory of it for a moment.
A joyous laugh was bubbling in his heart as he tipped softly over the thick yielding rug and slipped his hands over her eyes. His voice was the gentlest whisper:
"Guess?"