“Oh, Asher! What a change since the days when we invented parties for our lonely evenings here! What has become of the old prairie?”
“It’s out there still, under the wheat fields. We have driven the wilderness back; plowed a fireguard around the 212 whole valley; tempered the hot winds by windbreaks and groves.”
“It seems impossible that there ever was a one-room sod cabin here, and only you and I and Jim and faithful old Pilot in all the valley.”
“Since so many things have come true it may be that many more will also by the time Thaine is as old as I was when I came out here and thought the Lord had forgotten all about this prairie until I reminded Him of it. We can almost forget the hard work and the waiting for results,” Asher said.
“Oh, we don’t want to forget,” Virginia replied. “Not a season’s joy or sorrow but had its uses for us. Do you remember that first supper here and the sunflowers in the old tin can?”
“Yes, and Jim sitting outside so lonely. What a blessing Leigh has been to his life. There they come now.”
The next moment Jim’s tall form filled the doorway.
“Good evening, folks. I can’t resist the habit of the sod shack days to come right into the kitchen. I understand that we forty-niners are to have an old settlers’ reunion while the young folks dance,” he said.
There were lines of care on his face now, suggesting a bodily weariness that might never grow less. The old hopefulness and purpose seemed fading away. But the kindly light of the eyes had not disappeared, nor the direct gaze of an honest man whose judgment might bring him to tragedy, while his sense of honor was still sublime.
“Come in, Jim. Where are Pryor and Leigh? Did you take it you were all we expected?” Asher asked.