“A loose wire connection, that’s all,” the pilot explained as he read the worry wrinkles on the girl’s brow. “Have it fixed before you know it. And then—”
“Home,” Mary breathed. How she loved that word. Would she ever want to leave that home again?
A half hour later they were once again in the air. One more half hour and their skis touched the frozen surface of their own small lake.
“Welcome home,” Dave shouted as he came racing toward them. “Just in time for a feast. Tim Barber got a deer yesterday. We’re having a roast of it for dinner, your mother and—”
“And Madam Chicaski?”
“Oh, sure!” Dave laughed. “You couldn’t drive her away. And who’d want to? She’s been a splendid help to your mother, milked the cow, fed the horse, hauled wood, everything. And now,” he laughed, “I think she’s fixing to run a trap-line. From somewhere she’s dug out a lot of rusty traps and is shining them up.”
“Has she—” Mary hesitated.
“Revealed her secrets—copper kettle, golden candlesticks, all that? Not a word.
“But Mary,” Dave took both her hands. “How good it is to see you back.”
“I—I’m glad to be back, David,” Mary blushed in spite of herself.