Two hours after Marilla returned from the station, and rushed into the
kitchen.
"Grandma!" she exclaimed, "you never did see such a crowd in Winby as
there was at the depot! Everybody in town had got word about General
Laneway, and they were pushing up to shake hands, and cheering same
as at election, and the cars waited much as ten minutes, and all the
folks was lookin' out of the windows, and came out on the platforms
when they heard who it was. Folks say that he'd been to see the
selectmen yesterday before he came to school, and he's goin' to build
an elegant town hall, and have the names put up in it of all the Winby
men that went to the war." Marilla sank into a chair, flushed with
excitement. "Everybody was asking me about his being here last night
and what he said to the school. I wished that you'd gone down to the
depot instead of me."
"I had the best part of anybody," said Mrs. Hender, smiling and going
on with her Saturday morning work. "I'm real glad they showed him
proper respect," she added a moment afterward, but her voice faltered.
"Why, you ain't been cryin', grandma?" asked the girl. "I guess you're
tired. You had a real good time, now, didn't you?"
"Yes, dear heart!" said Abby Hender. "'T ain't pleasant to be growin'
old, that's all. I couldn't help noticin' his age as he rode away.
I've always been lookin' forward to seein' him again, an' now it's all
over."
* * * * *
_Looking Back on Girlhood_
In giving this brief account of my childhood, or, to speak exactly, of
the surroundings which have affected the course of my work as a
writer, my first thought flies back to those who taught me to observe,
and to know the deep pleasures of simple things, and to be interested
in the lives of people about me.
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