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Show Everything's Same By E. A. HOUGHTON McClure Syndicate WNU Feature. VIIEN John came into the kitch- en from his room upstairs, they knew the homecoming was a failure. He smiled, but it wasn't the boyish eager grin of eighteen months ago. It was more like the automatic smile of a tired young stranger who was trying to please, trying to" seem glad to be home again. "Gee, Mom, my room not a thing's been changed." he said slowly. slow-ly. "Everything's almost the same as" He stopped and Mathilda, watching watch-ing her son's lips tighten and his eyes fall, glanced from him to his father. Harvey, silent but tense, sat stiffly in his rocker and stared out the window. "Everything's almost the same " The words echoed through the room. But of course it wasn't Helen was married now and Eddie, who really shared the little room with John, was somewhere in the South Pacific. Nothing really had been the same since the war broke out. Yet from John's letters Mathilda and Harvey had known he was hoping hop-ing desperately it would be. "I'm almost afraid to come home," he wrote once just before his furlough. "I'm afraid things will be so different." dif-ferent." That was why they had tried why the little upstairs room had been reopened, why the old pennants were tacked again on the walls, why the .22 had been oiled and placed in its spot behind be-hind the kitchen stove along with the high-topped hunting boots, just as they used to be. Harvey shifted uneasily In his chair. Then he rose, crossed the room and commenced pulling on his galoshes. His voice was calm. "Come on, John- There's someone down in the barn that's mighty anxious anx-ious to see you." The son turned his head. "Nellie?" "Nel-lie?" Harvey stamped nis feet on the hard floor and nodded, smiling. The young, soldier was silent as his mother pulled the coats from the row of hooks on the wall beside the stove. He took the heavy army coat she gave him, and she offered an ulster to his father. "Not that one, Mathilda," his father fa-ther growled. "The red one." Mathilda frowned, placed the coat on the hook and handed him his hunting coat. "Smelly old thing," she fussed. "I don't see why you never wear the good one no more." Harvey merely grunted as he pulled on the jacket and led his son to the door. Walking toward the barn neither had anything to say. But as they approached it John spoke suddenly: "I bet she doesn't even remember me." "That's where you're wrong, son," Harvey answered firmly with a scornful frown. "She's been pinin' for you ever since you left won't let anyone else even touch her. Why, I have to let her out in the pasture to clean her stall." "Yeah?" John's tone was politely skeptical. "Wait here a second, son," the old man said at the barn door, "and let me show you. Watch." John stepped out of sight of the horse as his father approached Nellie. Nel-lie. On seeing the red-coated fig ure the young mare reared quickly, whinnied and pawed the air. "Whoa, Nellie!" the old man said, but the frightened mare whirled, snorted and retreated to the rear. Harvey came back to John, smiling. smil-ing. "See?" he said triumphantly. "Now, you try it." There was a tense expression about the young man's month as he stepped forward. From the door where John had stood, (he father looked on quietly. The horse whinnied again, raced toward the soldier and poked his muzzle into the khaki collar. col-lar. John's hands went up and stroked the soft wet nose. "Hello, "Hel-lo, Nellie," he murmured warmly. warm-ly. "You do remember don't you?" Harvey was happy as he went back into the kitchen. Mathilda threw him an inquiring glance, and Harvey motioned her to the window. Side by side, through the frosted glass they saw John lead the mare from the barn, mount her unsaddled, unsad-dled, just as he used to do, and then horse and rider galloped down the lane. As he passed the house John turned, waved and grinned the old boyish grin. Everything, they knew then, was the same after all. - The stove sizzled. The room was pleasantly warm. Mathilda turned to her husband, sniffed, and said in a scolding voice, "Harvey, take off that dirty old hunting jacket. Heavens, Heav-ens, it smells like a stable!" Harvey walked to the row of hooks, pulled off the coat and placed it on the rack tenderly, as if It were an old friend. '"It oughta smell a little bit like horses, Mathilda," he said. "You see, I've been whippin' poor old Nellie with it every day for over a month!" |