Up the steep and crooked road the stout horses tugged their way, and the wagon creaked, and the Gale River, here only a brook, came gurgling, dashing to meet them--down from the mountains, from the farm, from Roger's youth to welcome him home.

And the sun was flashing through the pines.

As they drew near the farmhouse through a grove of sugar maples, he heard shrill cries of, "There they come!" And he glimpsed the flying figures of George's brothers, Bob and Tad.

George whipped up the horses, the wagon gained upon the boys and reached the house but a few rods behind the little runners.
Edith was waiting by the door, fresh and smiling, blooming with health.
How well this suited her, Roger thought.

Amid a gay chorus of greetings he climbed down heavily out of the wagon, looked about him and drew a deep breath.