“How many do you have on your list?” asked Kit.
“Ten. With the four of us, that should be plenty for a party. I still wonder if it’s really wise to have one with Mother bringing Dad home.” The rest were silent. Kit, sitting at her mother’s desk beside the wide bay window, looked up and frowned at the falling snow that was obscuring the view of the Sound. A pearly grayness seemed to be settling around the big house as if it were being cut off from the rest of the world by a thick, soft curtain.
“Hope Dad’s feeling better by now,” Kit said suddenly, pushing her dark bangs back from her forehead restlessly. “They said they would be leaving the hospital the eighth. Wasn’t it the eighth, Jean?”
“Oh, they’ll be home in plenty of time,” Jean exclaimed. “Here we all sit, looking like small, black storm clouds when he’s better. Mother said positively in her last letter that he had improved wonderfully during the week.”
Doris stared at the long, low couch on one side of the open fireplace. It was over four weeks since her father had lain on it. Early the previous fall he had come home after two and a half years in the Army. During those years Mrs. Craig had managed to hold her family together although it hadn’t been easy with four children. When they had received word that Major Thomas Craig had been wounded in the Pacific, they had all been worried. Later, he was well enough to return to the States, and it was comforting to have him nearer home. Finally, the Army Hospital in Philadelphia had discharged him and he returned to his family at last.
Through the winter there had been a steady decline in his health until it was necessary for him to return to the Army Hospital for possible further treatment.
Somehow Doris could not help wondering whether the future would get any brighter. She rose quickly, shaking her head defiantly at the thought, as any thirteen-year-old girl would.
“Let’s not worry, kids. If we’re all blue when he comes, he’ll have a relapse.”
Then Jean spoke, anxiously, tenderly, her big dark eyes questioning Kit. “What about Mother?”
“We’re all worried about Mother, Jeannie. You’re not the only one,” Kit snapped. “But you can be aching with love inside, and still not go moping around with a long face like that!”