Page 128 - sons-and-lovers

the door burst open. William was there. He dropped his
Gladstone bag and took his mother in his arms.
‘Mater!’ he said.
‘My boy!’ she cried.
And for two seconds, no longer, she clasped him and
kissed him. Then she withdrew and said, trying to be quite
normal:
‘But how late you are!’
‘Aren’t I!’ he cried, turning to his father. ‘Well, dad!’
The two men shook hands.
‘Well, my lad!’
Morel’s eyes were wet.
‘We thought tha’d niver be commin’,’ he said.
‘Oh, I’d come!’ exclaimed William.
Then the son turned round to his mother.
‘But you look well,’ she said proudly, laughing.
‘Well!’ he exclaimed. ‘I should think so—coming
home!’
He was a fine fellow, big, straight, and fearless-looking.
He looked round at the evergreens and the kissing bunch,
and the little tarts that lay in their tins on the hearth.
‘By jove! mother, it’s not different!’ he said, as if in relief.
Everybody was still for a second. Then he suddenly
sprang forward, picked a tart from the hearth, and pushed
it whole into his mouth.
‘Well, did iver you see such a parish oven!’ the father ex-
claimed.
He had brought them endless presents. Every penny he
had he had spent on them. There was a sense of luxury over-

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