426 A Sketch from Life. [^Septemher, 



" Finding no one answering my knocks, I took the liberty of walking 

 in. I believe I owe you no apology, for I have officiated as turnspit, 

 and saved your Thanksgiving turkey from burning." 



"I am very much obliged to you, I'm sure," answered the old lady, 

 pulling off her mittens. " But did you want to see me or the 

 deacon?" 



" Both of you," answered the stranger. "You had a son, I believe?" 



"Yes," replied Mrs. Wilson, with hesitation, and easting down her 

 eyes. 



•' I have seen him lately." 



" Where ? " inquired the mother, with increased agitation. 



"In California." 



"Was he doing well?" 



" Admirably. Mother ! mother," he added impetuously, throwing 

 back his hat, " don't you know me — don't you know your William?" 



He rushed into his mother's arms, and was clasped to her beating 

 heart, while the tears streamed freely from the eyes of both. After 

 the first greeting was over, the young man asked : ' 



" Where is sister Emmy ? " 



"Gone," answered the mother, as her tears flowed forth anew. 



William sank into a seat, and hiding his face in his hands, wept 

 bitterly. The mother did not attempt to check him. She knew those 

 tears were precious. 



" And my father ? " asked the young man, when he regained his 

 composure. 



" He is well. But you had better retire for awhile. Go to your 

 old room, my son, it is just as you left it, and wait till I summon you." 



It was with a fluttering heart that the overjoyed mother went about 

 the preparations for dinner, and when the table was neatly set, every 

 dish in its place, and the turkey smoking hot, waiting to be carved, 

 she summoned the old man. He made his appearance at once, and 

 took his seat. Glancing round the table he said : 



" What is this, wife, you have set plates for three ! " 



" I thought perhaps somebody might drop in unexpectedly.'^ 



" There is little danger — hope, I mean — of that," answered the 

 deacon sadly. 



At this juncture, Mrs. W^ilson, with a mysterious expression, rang 

 the bell, with which, in hnppier days, she was wont to summon her 

 tardy children to their meals. 



It was answered by the appearance of the long lost William. 



The deacon who recognized him after a moment, gazed upon him 



