"Yes, mother, and brought with me the best girl in the world."
"I am glad to see you both," she said quietly.
"And how's father?" I asked nervously.
"Your father died nearly three years ago. We didn't know where to send word to you."
There was no reproach in her voice; it was as if she expected nothing of me. We went into the house and sat down, and began to talk. It was solemn and painful all around, and if it hadn't been for Sarah I should have been taking an early train for Chicago. But she was sunny and light-hearted, and seemed to take pleasure in being there. While we were sitting in the front room talking to mother, a young woman came in with two small children hiding in her skirts.
"Your brother Will's wife," mother explained quickly.
"Why, May!" I exclaimed, a little embarrassed, "I didn't exactly look for this. Will didn't let me know—I—"
"We wanted to write you, but we didn't know where you were. I am very glad to see you, Van," May said quietly, a little smile curving up from her lips in a way that reminded me of the girl I once loved. She took both Sarah's hands and looked straight into her eyes.
"And this is your wife, Van?"
"Not quite, yet."