"We're goin' home,
No more to roam."
With eyes still closed, with head thrown back, and a heavenly serene expression on her face, Grandma began the refrain, while Madeline struck the chords on the melodeon, and the singers took up the words with a hearty cheer:—
"We're goin' home,
No more to roam,
No more to sin and sorrow;
No more to wear
The brow of care,
We're goin' home to-morrow."
Then the chorus, "We're going home," joyfully repeated, died away at last, more plaintively, "We're going home to-morrow."
"Wall, I'm goin' home to-night," said Emily, and, as I looked up at her, I caught the same mischievous gleam in her unsoftened eyes. "So strike up Something lively now, and I'll waltz down the lane to it. 'Are your windows open towards Jerusalem?'—Lord, can't you think o' something warmer than that for this weather?"
But the singers were going on gloriously:
"Are your windows open towards Jerusalem?
Though as captives here a little while we stay
For the coming of the King in His glory,
Are you watching, day by day?"
Emily tightened the shawl around her neck with a quick motion. In going out, she took an indirect course through the room, purposely to pass by where I was sitting.
"Are your windows open towards Jerusalem?" said she, stooping and whispering in my ear: "Dave Rollin's out there hangin' onto the fence one side the bushes, and Lute Cradlebow the other, and they don't see each other no more than two bats."
"Are your windows open towards Jerusalem" was a favorite with the Wallencampers. On this occasion they repeated it several times. Captain Sartell and Bachelor Lot, who had been engaging in a game of checkers in the little kitchen, left the board as the well-loved strains greeted their ears, and came in to join the group.