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Updated: May 12, 2025
He felt as though he were standing in a Berringdon kitchen with acres of green outside the windows sweeping in a circle off to the little hills, the acres of forest green, and the big hills beyond. The mother stepped forward and brushed the mud from Bobby's coat. The baby screwed up his face for a howl to call attention to his neglect in the midst of all this excitement.
The deed was to be made out to Mrs. Alice E. Wentworth, and was to be held until she called for it. In case of any difficulty for it occurred to him that the deacon might at the last moment sacrifice a good trade out of spite the lawyer was to telegraph him at once at the Waldorf. Then he looked up the time the Berringdon train left and wrote a note giving Mrs.
"I wanted Jim to go back an' take it after father died, but he couldn't seem to make a deal with the deacon." "I s'pose not. No one this side of the devil himself will ever make a square deal with him. He 's still as strong in the church as ever?" She smiled. "I see by the Berringdon paper that he begun some revival meetin's in town."
It was rest enough for him to know that the girl was asleep, relaxation enough to recall the maiden joy that had freshened the eyes of Mrs. Wentworth. It was too late to get a money-order, but he secured a check from the hotel manager for the amount, and finding in the Berringdon paper the name of a local lawyer whom he remembered as a boy, he mailed it to him with a letter of explanation.
"And you certainly would n't deal unfairly with a neighbor on Sunday?" "What " "It's thirteen minutes of ten on a Saturday night. That's pretty near Sunday, is n't it?" "What of it?" "Remember that advertisement you inserted in the Berringdon Gazette?" There was a silence of a minute. "Wall," faltered the deacon rather feebly, "I thought mebbe ye wanted the farm fer a summer place.
"'Nice farm for sale cheap; story and a half frame house, good barn, ten acres of land, and a twenty-acre pasture lot. $1800. Apply to A. F. Staples, Berringdon, Vermont. "I 'm glad the old pasture is going with the house. Somehow the two seem to belong together. It was right in front across the road, an' all us children used to play there. There 's a clump of oak trees at th' end of it.
It was after nine before he finally reached the Waldorf. No message was waiting for him from either the girl or Saul. He hunted up the telephone operator at once. "Call up Berringdon, Vermont, for me, please." "With whom do you wish to talk?" "With Deacon Staples." He smiled as he saw the hands of the clock pointing to nine-thirty. It was long after the Deacon's bedtime. The Sleepers
"Laws, yes, and lived there most of my life." "In New England?" "Berringdon, Vermont." "Berringdon? Your husband was n't one of the Wentworth boys?" "He was Jim Wentworth, the oldest" "Well, well! Then you are Sally Burnham." "And you," she hesitated, "I do b'lieve you 're Peter Donaldson." "Yes," he said, "I 'm Peter Donaldson." The name from her lips took on its boyhood meaning.
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