Between his
pride in my standing at the head of my class and his discomfort in a
starched collar, he was a prey to conflicting emotions all Commencement
week, and heaved a great sigh of relief when at last the train that bore
us home pulled out of the station. But as we approached our own he again
grew uneasy, and kept peering out at the car window as if on the watch for
something.
At length we descended in front of the long yellow box we called the
"deepo." And there was Joe Lavigne to meet us, not with the democrat
wagon, but with a very new and shiny top buggy.
When we reached the farmhouse, I saw proofs of a loving conspiracy. The
addition of a broad veranda and a big bay window, with the softening
effect of the young trees that had grown up all around the place, made it
look much more homelike than the bare box that had sheltered my childhood.
A new hammock swung between two of the trees.
Mother met me at the door with more emotion than I had ever before
detected upon her thin face. Then I saw that the dear people had been at
work within the house as well. Cosey corners and modern wall paper and
fittings such as I had seen at the professors' houses and had described at
home to auditors apparently slightly interested, had been remembered and
treasured up and here attempted, to make my homecoming a festivity.
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