"Poor soul," thought Robert, "I expect he's lonesome."
The afternoon sun stole into the room, marking out patches of light upon the rag carpet which covered the floor, and touched the rude logs kindly as if to gild, rather than to reveal. In the next room women's voices sounded, indistinct, but pleasant, with here and there a low, musical laugh, and the teacher fell to dreaming.
"How many are two and two, Cousin Rob?" Johnny asked, for the third time.
"Four—don't you remember? You learned that this morning."
"Can I go now? I want to see my sister."
"Yes, run along."
The patter of feet died away in the distance, but Robert still looked out upon the river with a smile upon his face. Presently he saw Mrs. Howard going toward the Fort, with two of the children capering along beside her. Something stirred in the dreamer's pulses, indefinite, but none the less real. What man can place it, or knows it when it comes—that first vague longing for a home of his own?
The minutes went by and the light faded until the blood-red sunset fired the Fort and stained the snowy reaches beyond. A door opened, a kettle sang, and some one came in.
"Asleep, dear?"