And the little crowd of rescuers
arrived only just in time to hear Nanny thanking him.
But when he asked her where in Green Valley town Mary Wentworth lived
everybody stared and listened. Even Nan came near staring. But after
the puzzled look her face broke into a smile.
"Oh--you mean Grandma Wentworth?"
He smiled too and said, "Perhaps. I am a stranger in Green Valley.
But my mother was a Green Valley girl. She was Cynthia Churchill and
Mary Wentworth was her dearest friend."
"Then you are--why, you must be--" stammered Nanny.
"I am Cynthia Churchill's son."
"From India?" questioned Nan.
"From India," he said quietly.
From out the group of Green Valley folks, now dim in the May twilight,
a voice spoke.
"You may come from India but if you are Cynthia Churchill's son you are
a Green Valley man and this is home. So I say--welcome home."
Roger Allan, straight and tall and speaking with a sweetness in his
voice those listening had never heard before, stepped up to the young
man with outstretched hand.
The young stranger looked for a moment at the dimming streets, into the
kindly faces about him, and then shook hands gladly.
"It is good to be home," he said, "but I wish I had mother here with
me.
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