It did seem a long, long time. Bet was constantly running backwards and forwards from the door of the next house to the gate; and Susan, with folded arms, was leaning against the side of the house, coming round the corner every now and then to say it was getting too cold for Miss Joy to stay in the porch.
"Oh, I am quite warm! let me wait, Susan."
"You must have your own way, I suppose, as usual," was the short reply.
Susan was fond of saying rather sharp things sometimes, to cover her real love for Joy. She had felt a natural pang of jealousy when she found the young mother had taken her place of waiting on Joy, or rather sharing the waiting with Bet and Mrs. Harrison. She was not quite kindly disposed to Maggie Chanter, and would mumble sometimes--
"It was all very well for folks to leave their children on people's doorsteps, and then when they were grown nicely, and every one loved them, it was very fine to come and claim them;" and she would say, "There's no love lost between me and Mrs. Skinner's daughter, and I don't hold with girls going off with poor sickly photographers when they might have rode in their carriage and married rich grocers."
People like Susan generally speak in the plural number when their remarks are directed to one person who is the object of their satire or reproof.
The longed-for moment came at last. As the three neared the house, George Paterson said:
"Run on and go to your mother alone, boy; she will like it best."
Jack did as he was bid, and in a few minutes he was kneeling at his mother's side, clasping her round the waist and covering her with kisses.
Mrs. Harrison could only press the boy close to her heart and murmur over him tender words, while Joy's little voice said:
"Kiss me too, Jack, dear Jack. Of course every one forgives you--because God for Christ's sake has forgiven us. Oh, dear, _dear_ old Jack!"
It was not till Jack was in his bed that night that his mother, kneeling by him, poured out her heart in thankfulness to God. Then he drew from under his pillow the old red and yellow handkerchief, and in a few words told the story as the sailor had told it to him.
"The token has come at last," poor Patience said. "Yes, I marked those letters on the handkerchief with my own hand. Oh, Jack! Jack! it all comes back to me, and I have had a weary time of waiting; but it is better to _know_ at last."
