ff to
bed. But George would be expecting her. In the morning they had had very
few words together and Rosie knew that there were a hundred things about
the farm and about his mother that George wished to hear. So she stifled
her yawns and waited.

Talk flickered and went out. At last Jamie O'Brien tapped his pipe on
the porch rail and, going in, said: "Good-night, Rosie. It's mighty fine
to have you back." In a few moments Mrs. O'Brien followed Jamie and
Terry followed her.

One by one the street noises grew quiet. Mothers' voices called,
"Johnny!" "Katie!" "Jimmie!" and children's voices answered, "All right!
I'm a-comin'!"; doors slammed; lights began to twinkle in bedroom
windows. Rosie's little world was preparing for sleep. Every detail of
that world was familiar to her as her mother's face. Like her mother's
face, heretofore she had taken it for granted. Tonight, coming back
after a short absence, she saw it anew with all the vividness of fresh
sight and all the understanding of lifelong acquaintance. It was her
world and, with a sudden rush of feeling, she knew that it was hers and
that she loved it. Now that she was back to it, already her weeks in the
country seemed far off and vague.... Had she ever been away?

George came at last. He looked thin and worn and he seated himself
quietly with none of his old-time gaiety.

"Well, Rosie," he began, "how does it seem to be back?"

Rosie sighed. "I had a beautiful time in the country, Jarge, but I'm
glad to be back--honest I am."

"But don't you miss the quiet of the country? I don't believe you'll be
able to sleep tonight with all the noise."

Rosie laughed. "Jarge, you're like all country people. You think the
country's quiet and it's not at all. It's fearfully noisy! It's like
living on a railroad track! Why, do you know, the first night I was
there, I was hours and hours in going to sleep--I was so scared!"

"Scared, Rosie? What were you scared about?"

"The racket that was going on. I didn't know what it was at first. Then
Grandpa Riley came out and told me it was only the locusts and the
tree-toads and the frogs. For a long time, though, I didn't see how it
could be."

George lay back and laughed with something of his old abandon. "If that
don't beat all! So they scared you, Rosie?"

"And chickens, Jarge! Why, chickens are the noisiest things! If they are
not squabbling with each other, they're talking to themselves! And
ducks--ducks are even wors