“That’s it––for his sister’s sake––n––n––not for yours, always himself and his came first. And then it wouldn’t have been so. Even if it were so, it wouldn’t have been so––I mean––I wouldn’t have believed it––because it couldn’t have been you and been so––”
“Darling little Irish Betty! What a fine daughter you will be to my Irish Dad! Oh, my dear! my dear!”
“But you know such a thing would have been impossible for you to do. They might have known it, too, if they’d had any sense. And that scar on Peter’s head––that was a new one and yours is an old one. If they had had any sense, they could have seen that, too.”
“Never any man on earth had a sweeter job than I! It’s worth all I’ve been through to come home here and 506 comfort you. Let’s keep it up all our lives, see? You always stay mad at Uncle Elder, and I’ll always comfort you––just like this.”
Then Betty laughed through her tears, and they kissed again, and then proceeded to settle all their future to Richard’s heart’s content. Then, after a long while, they crept in where the family were all seated at supper, and instantly everything in the way of decorum at meals was demoralized. Every one jumped up, and Betty and Richard were surrounded and tumbled about and hugged and kissed by all––until a shrill, childish voice raised a shout of laughter as little Janey said: “What are we all kissing Betty for? She hasn’t been away; she’s been here all the time.”
It was Peter Junior who broke up the rout. He came in upon them, saying he had left his father asleep, exhausted after the day’s emotion, and that he had come home to the Ballards to get a little supper. Then it was all to be done over again, and Peter was jumbled up among outstretched arms, and shaken and pounded and hugged, and happy he was to be taken once more thus vociferously into the home that had always meant so much to him. There they all were,––Martha and Julien––James and Bob, as the boys were called these days,––and little Janey––and Bertrand as joyous as a boy, and Mary––she who had always known––even as Betty said, smiling on him in the old way––and there, watching all with glowing eyes, Amalia at one side, waiting, until Peter had her, too, in his arms.
Quickly Martha set a place for Peter between Amalia and herself. Yes, it was all as it should be––the circle now complete––only––“Where is your father, Richard?” asked Mary.
“He went off for a walk. Isn’t he a glorious father for a man to fall heir to? We’re all to meet at Uncle Elder’s to-night, and he’ll be there.”
“Will he? I’m so glad.”