ARCHIE EATON RETURNS
Liz, returning from her "afternoon's work at the meeting house, blew
breathlessly into the Hopworth kitchen.
"As I live, Archie Eaton's comin' home--this blessed day! His ma got a
telegram last night; Sammy Todd brought it over from Nor' Hero on his
bicycle. And Webb's put a notice in the post-office--he wants every
man, woman and child to meet on the Common to-night at seven to sort o'
welcome Archie to home."
"Everybody? Me and Davy," broke in Nonie, excitedly.
"Of course, when Webb says every man, woman and child it means all of
us," answered Liz with importance, smoothing out her gingham apron.
Three days had entirely made over Liz Hopworth. Sarah Hopkins' death
had given Liz, hitherto an outcast, a position of importance in the
community. However unfitting Freedom's ladies might have thought it,
nevertheless it was an undisputable fact, and everyone knew it, that
Liz's hands had "done for" the stricken family; she had cleaned and
comforted, dusted and baked and stitched together suitable mourning for
poor Jennie, the oldest Hopkins girl. At the simple funeral it had
been Liz who had greeted the neighbors and had urged them to "just look
at Sarah Hopkins--you'd think she was enjoyin' it all, she's that happy
lookin'!" What no one else knew was that it had been Liz who had put
her arms around Jennie Hopkins when a complete realization of her loss
had swept over the girl and had bade her "just lay your poor little
head right here and cry all you want to!" Never in all her life had
Liz's arms known such a labor of love. Jennie _had_ cried all she
wanted to--great, heart-breaking sobs that had, though they exhausted,
finally soothed her.
From his corner where old Dan'l, with hanging head waited his supper,
came a grunt of unbelief. Liz turned reprovingly.
"Anyway, Archie Eaton's a soldier even if he be an Eaton!" Then, to
Nonie: "I met Mis' Sniggs comin' up the village and she wants all the
little girls to wear white and throw bouquets at Archie as he's gettin'
off the stage and sing America. She's goin' to get the flowers at Mis'
Todd's and Mis' Brown's. Miss Nancy's white's too nice, but I guess
your gingham's faded most white 'nough. Anyways, it's plenty good."
"Have I time to run up and tell Miss Nancy?"
"Lan' sakes, no! We gotta get supper spry so's to have the work
cleared away. Nancy Leavitt knows it, I callate--ain't much happens
Webb doesn't carry straight off up to Happy House. I guess maybe
they're pretty busy, too. Things is certainly changin', I said, when
Sabriny Leavitt goes to poor Sarah Hopkins' funeral, sittin' right on
the plush chair over in the right-hand corner near the waxed flowers.
And sure's I'm alive, she's taken the Hopkins baby up to Happy House to
do for. She wanted it to keep regular like her own, but Timothy
Hopkins wouldn't listen for a minit--his children wa'nt a goin' to be
separated if they all starved! Seems to me he was foolish, but he was
awful set and mebbe he was right. Dan'l Hopworth, take off your
slippers! Of course you're goin' to see Archie Eaton come home! I
guess you're as patriotic as any other folks."
Liz's determination won its point so that a little before seven the
entire Hopworth family joined every other "man, woman and child" on the
village common. The common presented a pretty sight, big and small
flags fluttering, the weather-worn service flag again hoisted to its
place of honor and women and children in their best attire. Mrs.
Eaton, upon whom every glance turned with frank curiosity, did not need
her gorgeous purple poplin with its lace ruffles swelling over her
proud bosom, to make her the most conspicuous figure in the
gathering--that she was the mother of the returning soldier was enough!
And her eyes, as they strained down the road like the others, for a
first glimpse of Webb's horses, were wet with tears.
Someone saw a little cloud of dust and set up a shout: "He's comin'!"
Others took up the cry. Mrs. Sniggs frantically gathered her flock of
little singers around the carriage-block in front of the meeting-house,
where Webb had promised to pull up his team. Some one pushed Mrs.
Eaton toward the spot.
"_There_ he is," piped a small boy, pointing to the khaki figure that
leaned out of the stage, violently waving a hat.
"Who's the other fellar?" asked Mr. Todd, but no one around him seemed
to know.
All ceremony was thrown to the four winds; the hysterical piping of the
little girls was lost in the wild rub-a-dub dub of the Freedom's
drummers and the clamor of excited voices from the pushing, jostling
crowd. However, Archie Eaton was utterly unconscious of it all, for in
less than a second he was tightly enveloped in folds of purple poplin!
After a moment he sprang back to the step of Webb's wagon and raised
his hand.
"Mebbe you think it ain't good to get home! _I'll_ say it is! I've
laid awake nights dreamin' of this. I ain't goin' to make a speech,
folks, but I've got to tell you something. I wanted to send word to
you back a time but my buddy here wouldn't let me! Mebbe you don't
remember my buddy--he's changed a lot, I guess, but he's from Freedom,
all right!" He pulled at the arm of his companion. "Stand up, so
folks can see you! Give a cheer, now, for Eric Hopworth, the best and
bravest soldier in Uncle Sam's army!"
Not a throat in Freedom could have made a sound for utter surprise.
They gaped at the big, bronzed fellow in khaki while Archie Eaton went
on, speaking rapidly.
"Mebbe you folks up here don't know yet that he led a bunch of us after
a machine gun nest that was holdin' back the fellows there in the
Argonny and that when every man of us dropped he went on single-handed,
with a nasty hole in his side, and got every Jerry of 'em! But I guess
before he done that he pulled Archie Eaton back where the Jerries
couldn't finish me with their shot pepperin' the lot of us as we lay
there and--well, he's done a lot more'n that and mebbe you don't know
that the other day some fellers down at Washington gave him a
Distinguished Service Medal which I guess puts him pretty near next to
Ethan Allen himself! So set up a shout that'll split your throats for
Eric Hopworth, 'cause if it wasn't for him Archie Eaton wouldn't be
here holdin' his mother's hand and cryin' real tears, he's that tickled
to be home, and this old North Hero wouldn't be on the map like 'tis!
So let her rip, fellows! _My_ buddy, Eric Hopworth!"
Something, pent up while Archie Eaton was speaking, burst with a roar.
Each person, big or small, tried to shout louder than anyone else; each
tried to press close enough to lay a hand on the hero. And, strange
sight, Mrs. Eaton was now clasping Eric Hopworth in her arms!
Nancy, standing a little apart with Miss Sabrina, shouting like the
others, suddenly felt her throat choke with a sob, for she saw Dan'l,
stung to life, leap forward through the crowd to reach his son, his
face lifted and lighted by a great pride. Then, as they clasped hands,
the crowd parted suddenly, and through it flashed two small figures.
In less than a moment Nonie and Davy were both in their father's arms.
No one stopped to recall the stories of Eric Hopworth's youth nor of
his bringing the two babies back to his father. It was enough that he
was there among them, one of the country's heroes.
Mrs. Eaton was excitedly begging everyone to come to her home and have
ice cream and cake, and there was a general movement of young and old
to accept her hospitality. But when she urged Eric Hopworth he shook
his head, slipping one arm over his father's shoulder.
"I guess we want to go home," he explained, a little embarrassed. "You
see, it's been a long time--Pa and I have got a lot to say to each
other! And _we've_ got to get acquainted," nodding at the youngsters
who were clinging to his arm.
There was a great deal that Eric Hopworth could not tell his father,
for the simple reason that he had _not_ at his command the words that
could tell of the lessons the war had taught him. But in one simple,
awkward sentence he tried to express his remorse and penitence.
"Well, Pa," they had stopped before the door of the dilapidated house,
"I guess it took the war to make a man of me! I went into it 'cause it
looked pretty excitin', but it didn't take me long to find out it was a
big job and the kind of a job that meant a fellow had to give the very
best in him--and only the best! I've had time to think a lot and
things sort a come to me different, over there. I guess I know now
that I've got a job right here most as big as the war and I'm goin' to
do it! I'm goin' to make a home for you and Liz and the kids--a _real_
home!"
Nonie, standing off, a little shyly and uncertainly, was steeling
herself for a test. Out of a clear sky had dropped a real father. He
looked very big, but his face was kind, and he had a nice voice.
Perhaps--_perhaps_ one of her dreams was coming true! She slipped away
to her room and made ready for bed with trembling fingers. For a long
time she lay listening to the voices below. After a little Davy came
in and crawled sleepily into the cot in the corner. Still she waited,
her hands clasped tightly under the covers. At last she heard a
step--not like her grandfather's, nor Liz', she knew theirs--a
cautious, tip-toey step. As it came nearer she shivered with exquisite
anticipation.
Eric Hopworth leaned over the bed. He had thought Nonie would be
asleep. She held her eyes shut tight for a moment. He laid his hand
on her head with a shy, caressing movement. Suddenly the child threw
her two arms around his neck. He held her close, then he kissed her
and laid her gently back upon the pillow.
"Good night, kiddie," he whispered softly, and tip-toed out of the room.
Nonie gave one long, happy sigh, then, cuddling down under the covers,
dropped off into dreamless slumber.