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The lost boy stood upon the Square, hard by the porch of his father’s shop.

“This is Time,” thought Grover.”Here is the Square, here is my father’s shop, and here am I.”

And light came and went and came again—but now not quite the same as it had done before. The boy saw the pattern of familiar shapes and knew that they were just the same as they had always been. But something had gone out of day, and something had come in again. Out of the vision of those quiet eyes some brightness had, gone, and into their vision had come some deeper color. He could not say, he did not know through what transforming shadows life had passed within that quarter hour. He only knew that something had been lost—something forever gained.

Just then a buggy curved out through the Square, and fastened to the rear end was a poster, and it said “St. Louis” and “Excursion” and “The Fair.”

II THE MOTHER

As we went down through Indiana—you were too young, child, to remember it—but I always think of all of you the way you looked that morning, when we went down through Indiana, going to the Fair. All of the apple trees were coming out, and it was April; it was the beginning of spring in southern Indiana and everything was getting green. Of course we don’t have farms at home like those in Indiana. The childern had never seen such farms as those, and I reckon, kidlike, they had to take it in.

So all of them kept running up and down the aisle—well, no, except for you and Grover. You were too young, Eugene. You were just three, I kept you with me. As for Grover—well, I’m going to tell you about that.

But the rest of them kept running up and down the aisle and from one window to another. They kept calling out and hollering to each other every time they saw something new. They kept trying to look out on all sides, in every way at once, as if they wished they had eyes at the back of their heads. It was the first time any of them had ever been in Indiana, and I reckon that it all seemed strange and new.

And so it seemed they couldn’t get enough. It seemed they never could be still. They kept running up and down and back and forth, hollering and shouting to each other, until—”I’ll vow! You childern! I never saw the beat of you!” I said. “The way that you keep running up and down and back and forth and never can be quiet for a minute beats all I ever saw,” I said.

You see, they were excited about going to St. Louis, and so curious over everything they saw. They couldn’t help it, and they wanted to see everything. But—”I’ll vow!” I said.”If you childern don’t sit down and rest you’ll be worn to a frazzle before we ever get to see St. Louis and the Fair!”

Except for Grover! He—no, sir not him. Now, boy, I want to tell you—I’ve raised the lot of you—and if I do say so, there wasn’t a numbskull in the lot. But Grover! Well, you’ve all grown up now, all of you have gone away, and none of you are childern any more. . . . And of course, I hope that, as the fellow says, you have reached the dignity of man’s estate. I suppose you have the judgment of grown men. . . . But Grover! Grover had it even then!

Oh, even as a child, you know—at a time when I was almost afraid to trust the rest of you out of my sight— could depend on Grover. He could go anywhere, I could send him anywhere, and I’d always know he’d get back safe, and do exactly what I told him to!

Why, I didn’t even have to tell him. You could send that child to market and tell him what you wanted, and he’d come home with twice as much as you could get yourself for the same money!