There wasn't
much else in the letter--he seemed to be thinking of nothing but going
overseas. I shall not see him again before he goes--perhaps I will
never see him again. Sometimes I ask myself if that evening at Four
Winds was all a dream. It might as well be--it seems as if it happened
in another life lived years ago--and everybody has forgotten it but me.
"Walter and Nan and Di came home last night from Redmond. When Walter
stepped off the train Dog Monday rushed to meet him, frantic with joy. I
suppose he thought Jem would be there, too. After the first moment, he
paid no attention to Walter and his pats, but just stood there, wagging
his tail nervously and looking past Walter at the other people coming
out, with eyes that made me choke up, for I couldn't help thinking that,
for all we knew, Monday might never see Jem come off that train again.
Then, when all the people were out, Monday looked up at Walter, gave his
hand a little lick as if to say, 'I know it isn't your fault he didn't
come--excuse me for feeling disappointed,' and then he trotted back to
his shed, with that funny little sidelong waggle of his that always
makes it seem that his hind legs are travelling directly away from the
point at which his forelegs are aiming.
"We tried to coax him home with us--Di even got down and kissed him
between the eyes and said, 'Monday, old duck, won't you come up with us
just for the evening?' And Monday said--he did!--'I am very sorry but
I can't.
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