The old couple
continued to till the farm without the aid of the strong-armed son, and
at the neighbor's down the road pretty Mary Barker went about her
household labors with a demure air that told plainly how she regarded
her lover's disappearance. She refused to "keep company" in the
old-fashioned way with any of the young farmers who would willingly have
taken young Craig's place. She went out very little, kept a cat and grew
domestic in her habits. She had an abiding faith that Craig would
return, and to all entreaties would only shake her head and say: "I am
waiting for Will." The firm contour of the cheek grew somewhat less
rounded, the springing step less elastic, but she would not think of
marriage.
Friday, December 7, of this month (December) was just twenty years since
the disappearance of William Craig. In the twilight a bearded man of
forty came up the walk and as Miss Barker opened the door he put out
both hands and said:
"Mary, I have come again."
"I am sorry you waited so long Will," was the quiet reply, as she led
him into the house, where each told the story of the weary waiting, and
Christmas was fixed upon once more as the day for the wedding.
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