In the afternoon of this sunny day late in April the Colonel sat on the porch with his wife.  Below them on the step Rivers was reading aloud the detailed account of Lincoln’s death.  Leila coming out of the house was first to see the tall thin figure in dark undress uniform.  She was thankful for an unwatched moment of ability to gain entire self-command.  It was needed.  She helped herself by her cry of joyous recognition.

“Aunt Ann!  Aunt Ann!” she cried, “there is Dr. McGregor and—­and John and Josiah.”  The aunt cast a look of anxiety at the expressionless face of James Penhallow, as he rose to his feet, saying, “Why wasn’t I told?”

“We did not know, sir,” said Rivers, dropping the paper as he went down the steps to meet the new-comer.

Then the wasted figure with the left arm in a sling was in Ann Penhallow’s embrace.

“My God!” he said, “but it’s good to be at home.”  As he spoke he turned to the Colonel who had risen.

“Got hit, John?  It runs in the family.  Once had a Sioux arrow through my arm.  Glad to see you.  Want to be fed up a bit.  Lord! but you’re lean.”  He said no more, but sat down again without appearance of interest.

Rivers made John welcome with a pleasant word, and Leila coming forward took his hand, saying quietly, “We hardly looked for you to-day, but it is none too soon.”  Then she turned to McGregor, “We have much to thank you for.  You will stay to dine?”

John, still too sensitive, was troubled as he realized his uncle’s condition, and felt that there was something in Leila’s manner which was unlike that of the far-remembered Leila of other days.  She had urged McGregor to stay and dine, and then added, “But, of course, that pleasure must wait—­you will want to see your father.  He is so proud of you—­as we all are.”

“That is a pleasant welcome, Miss Leila; and, dear Mrs. Penhallow, I do not want a carriage, I prefer to walk.  I will see you, John, and that lame arm to-morrow.  Good-bye, Colonel.”

The master of Grey Pine said, “Nice young man!  Ann ought to kill the fatted calf.  Tell John not to be late for dinner.”

“It is all right, James,” said Mrs. Ann, “all right.”

Rivers watched with pain the vacant face of the Colonel.  This mental failure constantly recalled the days of anguish when with despair he had seen all who were dear to him one after another die mentally before their merciful exit from life.

“John must be tired,” he said.  Leila, who noted on the young soldier’s face the effect of sudden realization of his useless state said, “Your room is ready, John.”

“Yes,” said John, “I should like to rest before dinner.”

With a word as to the fatigue of his journey, Leila followed him into the well-remembered hall.

“Good heavens, Leila.  It seems an age since I was here.  Send up Josiah.  I am like a baby and need him to help me.”