Mrs. Benson found the expressman standing by the little table in the hallway where Katie had left him, though in the mean time he had gone back to his wagon and brought the package into the house. "Please sign there," he said, pointing to his receipt-book.
"It must be a very small package," thought Mrs. Benson, not seeing any package, but imagining it might still be in the expressman's overcoat pocket.
"I was to say, Mrs. Benson," said the man, "that you must be prepared for a very great, pleasant surprise."
"Oh! I'm prepared to be surprised," answered Mrs. Benson.
"Then please turn and look at the package standing there by the parlor door."
"Mother!"
"Oh, Guy! my dear boy!" joyfully called Mrs. Benson, as Guy, with an express tag tied around his arm, rushed into her arms, and clasped her around the neck.
"It's Guy himself," said Bertha, gleefully.
"Hurrah! it's Guy!" called Ben and Jim; and they all instantly left the supper table and hurried to greet him.
But the adventures of package No. 107 could not be quickly told. Of how it was discovered that it might be sent, how it had been directed like a bundle of goods, how it had been receipted for over and over again, how it had travelled all the way in the Pullman cars, how it was given as much care and attention as if it had been a huge nugget of gold, and very, very many more hows and whys.