DAVID'S RETURN
IT was October of 1918 when David Eby alighted from the train at
Greenwald and started out the country road to his home. He could not
resist the temptation to run into the yard of the gray farmhouse and
into the kitchen where Aunt Maria and Phoebe were working.
"David!"
"Why, David!"
The cries came gladly from the two women as he bounded over the sill and
extended his hand, first to the older woman, then to Phoebe.
"I just had to stop in here for a minute! Then I must run up the hill to
mother. This place looks too good to pass by. How are you? You're both
looking fine."
"Ach, we're well," Aunt Maria had to answer, Phoebe remaining
speechless. "But why, David! You got two legs and no crutches! I thought
you lost a leg."
"I did," he said, smiling, "but Uncle Sam gave me another one."
"Why, abody'd hardly know it. Ain't, Phoebe, he just limps a little?
Now I bet your mom'll be glad to see you--to have you back again, I
mean."
"Yes. I can't wait to get up the hill. I must go now. I'll be down
later, Phoebe," he added.
"All right," she said quietly.
"Ach, Phoebe," Aunt Maria exclaimed after he left, "did you hear me? I
almost give it away that his mom can see. Abody can be awful dumb still!
But won't he be glad when he knows that she ain't blind! She can see him
again. Ach, Phoebe, it's lots of nice people in the world, for all. It
makes abody feel good to know them two are havin' a happy time."
"I'm so glad for both I could sing."
"Go on," said the woman; "I'm glad too, and I believe I could help you
to holler."
As David climbed the hill by the woodland he thought musingly, "Strikes
me Phoebe didn't seem extra glad to see me. Perhaps she was just
surprised, perhaps my being crippled changed her. Oh, Phoebe, I want you
more than ever! I wonder--is it some nerve to ask you to marry a
cripple?"
However, all disquieting thoughts were forgotten as he reached the
summit of the hill and saw his boyhood home.
He whistled his old greeting whistle. At the sound of it Mother Bab ran
to the door.
"It's David come home!" she cried, her renewed eyes turned to the road,
her hands outstretched.
"I'm back, mommie!" he called before his running feet could take him to
her. But as he held her again to his heart there were no words adequate
for the greeting. Their joy was great enough to be inarticulate for a
while.
"But, Davie," the mother said after a long silence, "you come running!
You have no crutches!"
"Why, mommie!" There was questioning wonder in his voice. "How do you
know? You couldn't see! You are blind!"
"Oh, Davie, not any more! I can see!"
"You can see?" He put a hand at each side of the white-capped head and
looked into her eyes. They were not the dull, half-staring eyes of
blindness but eyes lighted by loving recognition.
Again words failed him as he swept her into his arms. But he could not
long be silent. "Tell me," he cried. "I must know! What
miracle--who--how--who did it? When?"
"Oh, Davie, you're not changed a bit! Same old question box! But I'll
tell you all about it."
Throughout the story Mother Bab told ran the name of Phoebe. "Phoebe
planned it all, Phoebe made the arrangements with the doctor, Phoebe
took me down to Philadelphia, Phoebe was there when I found I could
see"--it was Phoebe, Phoebe, till the man felt his heart singing the
name.
"Isn't she going on with her music lessons?" he asked. "I was afraid
she'd be in the city when I got back."
"She's given them up. It ain't like her to begin a thing and get tired
of it so soon. All at once after we came back from Philadelphia she said
she had enough of music, she was tired of it, and was going to stay at
home and be useful. I'm glad she's not going off again, for it gets
lonesome without her. You stopped to see her on the way up?"
"Yes, just a minute. I'm going down again later. She hardly said two
words to me."
"You took her by surprise, I guess. Give her a chance and she'll ask you
a hundred questions."
But when he paid the promised visit to Phoebe he was again disappointed
by her lack of the old comradely friendliness. She shared his joy at
Mother Bab's restored sight but when he began to thank her for her part
in it she disclaimed all credit and asked questions to lead him from the
subject of the operation. The girl seemed interested in all he said yet
there was a restraint in her manner. For the first time in his life
David was baffled by her attitude. As he climbed the hill again he
thought, "Now, what's the matter with Phoebe? Was she or wasn't she glad
to see me? I couldn't tell her I love her when she acts like that! And
I'm a cripple, and she's beautiful---- Oh, my mind's in a muddle! But
one thing's clear--I want Phoebe Metz for my wife."