A lonely soul,
he had found sweet company in the child and had gladly helped the eager
fingers. Later he had come down to supper with them and Beryl had played
a "piece" for her Pop, wearing the beads in honor of the occasion. When
Beryl had graduated from the graded school she had stood as class
prophet before an assemblage of fond relatives, among them Dale and
herself--wearing the green beads. Moira had wished Father Murphy were
there to see her girl.
She clasped them around the girl's neck now with fingers that trembled
and eyes bright with the tears which were always close to them. During
the little ceremony Dale burst in like a gust of strong, sweet air.
"Hullo, everybody! M'm'm, something smells good! What's for tonight,
Mom? Salt pork and thick gravy? Fried potatoes? Good! Hullo, Sis. How
goes it, Pop?" His greeting embraced everything and everyone in a rush,
from the savory supper to the invalid father whose face had brightened
at his coming.
"What're you getting all dolled up for, Sis?"
Beryl and her mother tried to tell the story at the same time. Dale did
not seem at all impressed and Beryl was disappointed.
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