“‘... One never knows. It is best not to turn away any stranger, not even if he is shabby and ill-looking. I heard of a house where a stranger was turned away. They were not bad people, but supper was over, the things put aside, and the woman was very tired. The stranger was taken in at the next house, and in the morning he seemed different to them—not shabby or ill-looking at all, but rested and laughing, with bright lights about his hair. Always afterward, that house was blest, but the other house went on in its misery and labour. One never knows. It is best not to turn any stranger away.’
“Now Olga understood that from beginning to end. Many times before she had tried to follow the talk at the table, but the words would come too fast, and she would fall away to her own manner of seeing things. This talk simplified many matters for her, and seemed greatly to be approved. So in the evenings she began to watch for her guest up the long level road that led to Hamilton. All that summer Olga thought of it and watched, though she was very little and only five. Sometimes when it was not yet dark she would venture forth a few steps and stare up the long road, until the house of their distant but nearest neighbour was all blurred in the night. Just behind her cottage in the other direction, the road dipped into a ravine, and the trees grew up from it, shutting off the distance. No place could be more wonderful than the ravine at midday, for the shades were quickened with birds, bees, flowers and much beside that only Olga saw, but its enchantment was too keen for the evening, and the night came there very quickly.
“Her Guest would never come from the ravineway, but from the long, open road—Olga was sure of this. Yet when stopping to think, she became afraid he would not be allowed to pass the neighbour’s house. Their little Paul was her frequent playmate, and Paul’s father and mother were most good and hospitable people, the last on the Hamilton road to let a stranger go by, without food and shelter. And Paul would be looking, for he was almost always interested in her things.... But perhaps they would be in at supper and not see the stranger; or perhaps he would not want to stop there, but would know that she was watching. She made very certain that he would not get by her house unobserved.
“Spring had come again. The pale blue hepaticas were peeping into bloom. There was one day that ended in Olga’s most wonderful night. The sun had gone down, but not the light. The sky was crowded with rich gold like the breast of the purple martin—flickerings of beautiful light in the air, as if little balls of happiness were bursting of themselves. The shadows were soft on the long road; the tiles of the neighbour’s low house were like beaten gold, and the perfume of the hyacinths flooded everywhere into the silence. All that heaven could ever be was in that broad splendour and sweetness—the ravine a soft purple stillness behind, and a faint mist of red falling in the distant gold.
“He was coming. She knew him for The Guest from afar. The neighbours’ house was already dimmed, but the stranger was clear, so that she knew he had passed their door. She ran forth to meet him, and no one called to her from behind. It seemed all made for her—the evening so sweet and vast and perfect. One of her little loose shoes came off as she hurried, but she did not stop. The single one made her running clumsy, so she kicked that free too. He must not think she was a little lame girl.... He was farther than she thought; she had never come so far alone in the evening. And yet how clearly she could see him....
“He must be very tired, for sometimes he was on one side of the road, and sometimes on the other. He was quite old, and his step unsteady, yet he carried his cane and did not use it.... His head was uncovered. Now she knew why his steps were so unsteady. He was looking upward as he walked—upward and around quite joyously, the glow of the sky upon his white beard and hair—so that he did not see her coming, and her bare feet were silent on the road.
“She felt very little as she touched his cane.
“‘Won’t you come to our house to rest? Oh, please——’
“‘Yes, yes,’ he answered, but did not look down.
“‘Our house is near—won’t you come?’ she asked again, and turning, she was surprised how far it was, but not afraid, and no one called to her.