"Thenk you," said the boy, his eyes glowing with pleasure at the two
shining half-crowns which Mysie had given him, and he waved his hand to
her as the train steamed out of the platform.
"Going home, going home," sang the wheels as the train rushed along.
"Going home," with every beat of her heart they answered her with their
cheery monotone. "Going home," they gurgled, as they freely ran down the
gradients. "Going home, going home," as they ran along the flat moor.
"Going home, going home," they panted up the inclines, but still joyous
in the thought of getting there.
Home, aye, home, they were taking her. Home to the cheery fireside, with
the homely fare and the warm hearts! To the cosy corner by the fender at
her father's feet, to the music of her mother's clicking needles as she
knitted; to the sweet comfort of the love and kindness of brothers and
sisters; to the warmth of glowing smiles and loving hearts. Home! Home!
Oh, God! Comfort of weary and battered humanity, dragging its wounded
and broken life to the shelter and the sanctity of love. So rose her
hopes, and her heart sang as the brooding night lowered and the wind
rose, bringing the rain lashing from the spring clouds to burnish the
moor with storms.
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