Діти залізниці
The End.
"Thereweren’tanylettersthismorning.Oh!Daddy!itISreallyyou,isn’tit?"
Theclaspofahandshehadnotforgottenassuredherthatitwas."Youmustgoinbyyourself,Bobbie,andtellMotherquitequietlythatit’sallright.They’vecaughtthemanwhodidit.Everyoneknowsnowthatitwasn’tyourDaddy."
"Ialwaysknewitwasn’t,"saidBobbie."MeandMotherandouroldgentleman."
"Yes,"hesaid,"it’sallhisdoing.Motherwroteandtoldmeyouhadfoundout.Andshetoldmewhatyou’dbeentoher.Myownlittlegirl!"Theystoppedaminutethen.
AndnowIseethemcrossingthefield.Bobbiegoesintothehouse,tryingtokeephereyesfromspeakingbeforeherlipshavefoundtherightwordsto"tellMotherquitequietly"thatthesorrowandthestruggleandthepartingareoveranddone,andthatFatherhascomehome.
IseeFatherwalkinginthegarden,waiting—waiting.Heislookingattheflowers,andeachflowerisamiracletoeyesthatallthesemonthsofSpringandSummerhaveseenonlyflagstonesandgravelandalittlegrudginggrass.Buthiseyeskeepturningtowardsthehouse.Andpresentlyheleavesthegardenandgoestostandoutsidethenearestdoor.Itisthebackdoor,andacrosstheyardtheswallowsarecircling.Theyaregettingreadytoflyawayfromcoldwindsandkeenfrosttothelandwhereitisalwayssummer.Theyarethesameswallowsthatthechildrenbuiltthelittleclaynestsfor
