He had
never thought of that before.
"I wonder if you would mind," said Mother Marshall, wistfully, "if I was
to kiss you, the way I used to do Steve when he'd been away?"
"I would mind very much," said Courtland, setting his suit-case down
suddenly and taking the plump little mother reverently into his big
arms. "It would be _great_, Mother Marshall," and he kissed her twice.
Mother Marshall reached her short little arms up around his neck and
laid her gray head for just a minute on the tall shoulder, while a tear
hurried down and fitted itself invisibly into her dimple; then she ran
her fingers through his thick brown hair and patted his cheek.
"Dear boy!" she breathed, contentedly, but suddenly roused herself.
"Here I'm keeping you, and that dinner'll spoil! Wash your hands and
come down quick! Bonnie will have everything ready!"
Courtland first realized the deep, happy, spiritual life of the home
when he came down to the dining-room and Father Marshall bowed his head
to ask a blessing. Strange as it may seem, it was the first time in his
life that he had ever sat at a home table where a blessing was asked
upon the food. They had the custom in the seminary, of course, but it
was observed perfunctorily, the men taking it by turns. It had never
seemed the holy recognition of the Presence of the Master, as Father
Marshall made it seem.
There was Bonnie, like a daughter of the house, getting up for a second
pitcher of cream, running to the kitchen for more gravy.
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