Anderson walked the rest of the way up the shady path to the house without saying any more to Jake.  The beautiful white house stood clear of the grove, bright in the rays of the setting sun.  A barking of dogs greeted Anderson, and then the pattering of feet.  His daughters appeared on the porch.  Kathleen, who was ten, made a dive for him, and Rose, who was fourteen, came flying after her.  Both girls were screaming joyously.  Their sunny hair danced.  Lenore waited for him at the step, and as he mounted the porch, burdened by the three girls, his anxious, sadly smiling wife came out to make perfect the welcome home.  No—­not perfect, for Anderson’s joy held a bitter drop, the absence of his only son!

“Oh, dad, what-all did you fetch me?” cried Kathleen, and she deserted her father for the bundle-laden Jake.

“And me!” echoed Rose.

Even Lenore, in the happiness of her father’s return, was not proof against the wonder and promise of those many bundles.

They all went within, through a hall to a great, cozy living-room.  Mrs. Anderson’s very first words, after her welcoming smile, were a half-faltered: 

“Any—­news of—­Jim?”

“Why—­yes,” replied Anderson, hesitatingly.

Suddenly the three sisters were silent.  How closely they resembled one another then—­Lenore, a budding woman; Rose, a budding girl; and Kathleen, a rosy, radiant child!  Lenore lost a little of her bloom.

“What news, father?” she asked.

“Haven’t you heard from him?” returned Anderson.

“Not for a whole week.  He wrote the day he reached Spokane.  But then he hardly knew anything except that he’d enlisted.”

“I’m sure glad Jim didn’t wait for the draft,” replied the father.  “Well, mother an’ girls, Jim was gone when I got to Spokane.  All I heard was that he was well when he left for Frisco an’ strong for the aviation corps.”

“Then he means to—­to be an aviator,” said Lenore, with quivering lips.

“Sure, if he can get in.  An’ he’s wise.  Jim knows engines.  He has a knack for machinery.  An’ nerve!  No boy ever had more.  He’ll make a crack flier.”

“But—­the danger!” whispered the boy’s mother, with a shudder.

“I reckon there’ll be a little danger, mother,” replied Anderson, cheerfully.  “We’ve got to take our chance on Jim.  There’s one sure bet.  If he had stayed home he’d been fightin’ I.W.W.’s!”

That trying moment passed.  Mrs. Anderson said that she would see to supper being put on the table at once.  The younger girls began untying the bundles.  Lenore studied her father’s face a moment.

“Jake, you run along,” she said to the waiting cowboy.  “Wait till after supper before you worry father.”

“I’ll do thet, Miss Lenore,” drawled Jake, “an’ if he wants worryin’ he’ll hev to look me up.”

“Lass, I’m only tired, not worried,” replied Anderson, as Jake shuffled out with jingling spurs.