Free The Parkerstown Delegate by Grace Livingston Hill

Chapter 1

    The shadows are long and low on the grass, the sleepy road is muddy, the chestnuts look expectantly down from the laden tree with their eager, prickly faces, all ready to leap when the frost shall give the word, the river glides dreamily along, and the rusty-throated crickets sing and sing the whole day. A busy gray spider works hard to finish certain meshes on the railing of the upper porch. Nothing makes any difference to her any way. She builds her house in a convenient place for catching flies, and when that house fails or breaks she builds another, so on to the end, and then it is all over.
    Two men come down the road in blue jeans overalls and checked blouses. One is big, with a large neck and no collar, a sunburned face lengthening into sandy whiskers, a broad, coarse, straw hat and hands in his pockets. The other is younger, with a pleasant face, a manly figure and a spade over his shoulder. They both have large, heavy boots spattered with mud, and walk much with their heels, carrying their feet after them with a sort of a rhythmic curve, shaped something like a tie in music.
    “Is Lois coming back soon?” asks the younger of the two men as they near the large white house on the right hand side of the road. There is much hesitation in his manner as he asks the question, but he tries to summon a matter-of-fact tone, and swings his body a little more decidedly.
    The large man, however, does not notice, for he suddenly seems to be aroused to a piece of news he has forgotten to impart.
    “Well, yes, now you mention it, she is.” There is a pleased look in his pale blue eyes and a broad grin of satisfaction over his face as he makes this reply. He is very proud of his daughter Lois, and three months is a long time for her to have been away from home. He wishes all the neighbors to understand that it is a great thing for Lois Peters to be at home once more. “She’s coming on this evening’s express train, and that’s what I’m hurrying home so early for.”
    There is a glad ring in the young man’s voice which he cannot repress as he answers: “Well, I declare! I’m right glad of it. You see Harley’s been taking on so of late because she’s been gone so long. He says it seems as if she would never come any more.”

    ”You don’t say!” says the proud father. “Well, now, that’s too bad. I’m glad she’s coming. I make no doubt she’ll run right over and see him the first thing. How is the little chap these days?”
    “Pretty poorly. He doesn’t get any better. Some days he’s able to be dressed and moved about, but most of the time he has to lie quite still. Mother gets discouraged about him, but the little fellow is as patient as can be. Father says he can’t bear to look at him, sometimes, it seems so dreadful to think he can never be well again.”
    “Yes, it is pretty hard,” said the rough man, rubbing his checked sleeve across his eyes; “uncommon hard for the little chap. Well, good-evening! Lois will be right glad to see you over, I have no doubt. She’ll come right off to see the little chap, too,” and the two men parted, the younger at his father’s gate, while the older man passed on down the road toward the village.
    “So Lois is coming back again. Well, I’m glad of it,” said the young man to himself as he paused a moment by the gate and looked meditatively back up the road he had just come. The distant hills were purpling themselves into their nightcaps, while the sun tore the clouds into scarlet and gold ribbons to adorn them. The young man watched the process a moment as he had watched it many times before, but to-night the gold seemed more glorious than it had for many a sunset eve, and perhaps it was because it reminded him of the light on Lois’s face. At least his heart felt that the sunlight of the village was coming back. He had not thought much of it in that way before, it is true; but he was glad, nevertheless, perhaps for his little brother’s