A week later Shaw and Maud walked along the river bank and discussed
the situation. Autumn leaves carpeted the ground beneath their feet,
and the faint murmur of the river below as it slipped over its pebbly
bed came faintly to their ears. In the sky above them, wild geese with
flashing white wings honked away toward the south, and a meadow lark,
that jolly fellow who comes early and stays late, on a red-leafed
haw-tree poured out his little heart in melody.
"You see, Mr. Shaw," Maud was saying, "it doesn't look right for
Grandma to be living with a stranger when she has so many of her own
people. I know she is happy with you--happier than she has been with
any of us--but what will people think? It looks as if we didn't care
for her, and we do. She is the sweetest old lady in the world." Maud
was very much in earnest.
Shaw's eyes followed the wild geese until they faded into tiny specks
on the horizon. Then he turned and looked straight into her face.
"Maud," he said, with a strange vibration in his voice, "I know a way
out of the difficulty; a real good, pleasant way, and by it your
grandmother can continue to live with me, and still be with her own
folks. Maud, can you guess it?"
The blush that spread over Maud's face indicated that she was a good
guesser!
Then the meadow-lark, all unnoticed, hopped a little nearer, and sang
sweeter than ever. Not that anybody was listening, either!
THE RETURN TICKET
(Reprinted by permission of _The Canadian Ladies' Home Journal_.
Pages:
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103