“What stranger cometh to see me out of a world of darkness and sin? Who claims me as his kinsman?”
And his voice was as cold as a axe in a December mornin,’ jest as cold and icy.
“It is Josiah Allen, Uncle Zebulin, don’t you know me? and this is Samantha.” (And Josiah again made a fearful effort to smile.)
But Zebulin Coffin drew his hands back, and folded ’em up under his coat-skirts, and looked at Josiah a minute or two in complete stillness, and his mean was as cold as a thermomiter hangin’ up right on the North pole. It was a awful time. Finally he spoke:
“I remember you Josiah Allen; you tarried with us occasionally in your youthful days. The last time you were here you snickered at prayer time, one of my own ungodly sons piercin’ you with a pin. Have you repented of your sinful ways, Josiah Allen? Are you weary of husks?”
Oh! how wretched and meachin’ Josiah Allen looked. He felt too mean to speak, and Uncle Zebulin went on:
“If you are weary of husks and tired of swine, I can forgive you Josiah. Have you repented? Are you worthy of forgiveness? Speak, Josiah Allen; have you come to eat of the fatted calf?”
If Josiah Allen had been a sheep, a full blooded merino, he couldn’t have looked any more sheepish.
Jest at that minute a real sweet voice, but sort o’ sad like, called out from the other side of the house:
“Supper’s ready, father.”