"Has the Cheevers got the bottom?"
A wave of color surged over Nucky's face, and then receded, leaving him deathly pale.
"Yes, they got it," he answered slowly, painfully, at last; "Blant sent 'em word he give it to 'em, and wisht he could give 'em back the lives he tuck, too."
Another deep silence followed; then there was a still more searching question:
"Do you aim to let 'em keep it when you git grown?"
Nucky closed his eyes; his face was sharp and tense with the inward struggle; his breath came with difficulty. It was a long time before he spoke; then,
"I allow I'll be the same kind of a hero Blant is," he replied.
Easter Sunday.
It is the season of new life. To-day the brown mountain sides are suddenly clothed with innumerable tender shades of green, and against them the exquisite "sarvice" tree, incomparable symbol of spiritual renascence, stands forth in unearthly beauty. It speaks to me not only of the awakening of Blant and Nucky to higher things, and of the coming day when from all hearts shall be cast out the "dread brood of Chaos and Old Night," pride, hatred and warfare, but of my own wonderful resurrection from grief, despair and selfishness to life and love and service. Now that I have Nucky back again, my joy is perfect, my cup overflows. To-day I have written my agent to accept one of the offers I have had for the old home,—the proceeds shall be used for sending my boys to college when the time comes. Henceforth my home is here,—here, where my once lonely and drifting barque is held in a fair harbor by twelve strong anchors. Lapped continually by warm tides of love and youth and joy. And my dearest hope is that the rest of my days may be spent Mothering on Perilous.