During the school terms, old Peter Ottertail would come to the parsonage
every Sunday after church, would dine seriously with Mr. and Mrs.
Duncan, and, when saying good-bye, would always shake his head solemnly,
and say, "I'll come no more until my Pony and Partridge come home." But
the following Sunday saw him back again, and the first day of vacation
was not hailed with greater delight by the boys than by their old friend
Peter. The nearest railway station was eleven miles distant, but rain or
shine, blood-heat or zero, Peter always hitched up his own team and set
out hours too early to meet the train. On arriving at the station, he
would tie up his horses and sit smoking his black stone pipe for a long
time. The distant whistle of the incoming train alone aroused him from
rapt thought, and presently his dark old face was beaming on his boys,
who always surprised him by having grown greatly during the term, and
who made as much fuss and hilarious welcome over him as if Mr. Duncan
himself had come to drive them home. So this delightful comradeship went
on, year in, year out.
Pages:
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361