In his heart John was longing for someone to take an interest in him and to love him—­someone to whom he could go with his boyish heartaches and from whom he could gain the sympathy for which his heart was craving.  To be sure, his father was still kind, and sometimes John would imagine that he could even feel his father’s love.  At such times the boy would press closer to his parent, hoping that he would at least with his arm caress him; but his father did not understand.  He could see only the outward roughness; and he said in his heart: 

“It is all because he has never had a chance.  He has grown up here on the prairie like a wild thing.  He has never been to school, and I must send him at once.”

With this purpose in his heart John’s father decided to return with his child to the place that had once been his happy home.  In making the change there were, of course, many things to take into consideration.  But under the circumstances, to go seemed the best and proper thing to do.  The sad events, he reasoned, were all in a lifetime; and he must make the best of them.  The home would for a time seem desolate, he knew, but he thought that perhaps they could become used to it; anyway, his boy must be in school.  The school terms would not be long (for only three or four months of each year were set apart for school purposes); but even these short terms would be better than none.

To John the change meant more.  The five years that he had spent in the home of his uncle had made his cousins seem to him like brothers; but still, as he considered his father’s plans, he thought, “Perhaps it may be all right.”  His aunt was very kind while John and his father were preparing to move; and the day they bade her good-by she said such sweet things that he wanted to throw his arms about her neck.  To his mind it was the very way in which his own dear mother would have spoken had she been alive.

When all was ready for the departure, the aunt said:  “John, here are the two little turkeys that you have liked so well all summer.  You may take them with you.  They will help you to forget that you are alone when your father is away at his work”; and she handed him a small covered basket.  Then the wagon containing their few belongings moved away from the place that for nearly five years they had called their home.

As they wended their way along the thoroughfare, they saw men at work in the fields.  Some were shucking corn and tossing the bright golden ears into wagons that were placed between the rows for that purpose, while others were hauling the grain to their barns to store it away for the winter’s use.  The broad corn leaves rustling in the wind seemed to whisper, “Winter is coming with his cold, bleak storms to rob the earth of her summer splendor; but he will bring his beautiful coverlet of snow to protect her fields and to prepare them for the coming year.”

The foliage on the small bushes that were scattered here and there was fading; but the air was still soft and mild.  Near the willows might still be seen the bending goldenrods, asters, and sunflowers.  And occasionally blue smoke could be seen curling up from some sod-house chimney.