"He's--he's gone," said the little old lady tremulously, seeming to
interpret their glances, at the same time coming timidly into the room.
"He told me to tell you," her face lighted up still more with that
wonderful inward joy, "that he would have stayed and thanked you young
ladies, but he'd made sort of an idiot of himself--so he said--an' would
be around later, instead."
"And is he really--really--_really_ your son?" cried Betty, unable to
contain herself longer, pressing the old lady into a chair and kneeling
down before her eagerly. "Oh, we knew you'd come and tell us! We've been
so very happy for you."
"Yes, he's my Willie boy," answered the little old lady, speaking dreamily
as though even yet she was not able to grasp the wonderful thing that had
happened to her. "It's strange when I come to think of it how I knew him
right away because, you see, I've always sort o' thought of him as my
little son, my baby, and in my mind I've always seen him as he was that
day he ran away. But he's really just the same--my little Willie boy--only
taller and sort o' broader in the shoulders an' handsomer--" her voice
broke and Betty slipped a sympathetic little hand in hers while the girls
gathered closer.
"You see, I've been prayin' for this thing for a good many years," she
went on quaintly, "an' it looks like Providence sort o' saw fit to answer
me at last. An' He jest picked out the sweetes' little ladies He could
find to be His instruments.
Pages:
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166