"And so much easier for you, father, too," William had added. "It's time
you rested. As for money--of course you'll have plenty in the savings-
bank for clothes and such things. You won't need much, anyhow," he
finished, "for you'll get your living off the farm just as you always
have."
So the matter was settled, and the papers were made out. There was no
one to be considered, after all, but themselves, for William was the
only living son, and there had been no daughters.
For a time it was delightful. Jeremiah and Hester Whipple were like
children let out of school. They told themselves that they were people
of leisure now, and they forced themselves to lie abed half an hour
later than usual each day. They spent long hours in the attic looking
over old treasures, and they loitered about the garden and the barn with
no fear that it might be time to get dinner or to feed the stock.
Gradually, however, there came a change. A new restlessness entered
their lives, a restlessness that speedily became the worst kind of
homesickness--the homesickness of one who is already at home.
The extra half-hour was spent in bed as before--but now Hester lay with
one ear listening to make sure that Sarah Ellen
did let the cat
in for her early breakfast; and Jeremiah lay with his ear listening for
the squeak of the barn door which would tell him whether William was
early or, late that morning.
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