THE ANZACTS HOME-COMING

Otautau Standard and Wallace County Chronicle, Volume XII, Issue 602, 28 November 1916, Page 9

THE ANZACTS HOME-COMING

(From the 'Scotsman.') The New Zealander glanced once or twice at the man in the corner engrossed in a newspaper before he ventured the query : "Are you going to Hollytown?" The reply was a monosyllabic affirmative. "Do you know Hollytown well ?" asked the soldier. "Pretty well," said the man with his face buried in the paper. I could have shaken him for liis boorish brevity. Discouraged, but persistent, the soldier returned to the attack. "Have you lived long in Hollytown?" The man in the corner detached himself sufficiently from his paper to explain that he did not live in Hollytown at all, but that he had gone back and forward several times a week for a series of years. There Avas a wistful look iu the soldier's eyes as he turned to me, and I anticipated his question by volunteering the statement that, unfortunately, I did not know Hollytown, and that I was bound for a point on the line just short of that interesting little burgh.' A minute before train time a lady entered the compartment. She was of pleasant appearance, and the look of resignation in the soldier's face gave place to one of hope. . "Are you going to Hollytown?" he asked. "Yes," was the reply; "I'm going on a visit to Hollytown." "Do you know Hollytown well ?" " Yes, intimately. I was born and brought up there. " "You will know the Ritchies, then?" "Yes," and, with the air of one who has solved a puzzle, the lady exclaimed, " and I know you!" i For one dramatic moment they stared at each other, and then both laughed. There was a hearty, joyous ring in the colonial's laughter. " Your face awakened memories the moment I entered the compartment, but I could not fix it. I was the girl to whom you gave a ha'penny the night you ran away." " Why, you must have been a kid. It was twenty-six years ago." " When the hue and cry got up next morning that you had disappeared I stood up | for you, and showed your mother the hapenny you gave me.. She said : ' Keep it, bairnie, for we'll ne'er see him mair.'" "Poor old mother! She's gone, I suppose ?" " Yes ; she died some years ago." "And my sisters?" "They are both married, and have families." "And my strait-laced elder brother?" "John has been very successful, and is highly esteemed in Hollytown." "And what's your name?" "My name's Wilson." "Wilson? What was your father?" "He was manager at the mill." "Oh! Are you Maggie?" "No; I'm Jeanie." , "And are you married?' " Not yet. I'm a hospital nurse." "I'm married, and have got five kiddies in New Zealand." In the pause which followed the soldier looked thoughtful, but his thoughts were not of his Antipodean homestead. "What became of Norah Braithwaite ?" he asked. " Oh, she's married too. It was a shame that you never came back for her." "She was my only love. I Avould like te see her. You will give me her address?" "Indeed, I shall do nothing of the sort." She looked very grim and resolute, and the soldier's peal of merry laughter filled the compartment. "Where did you go that night you ran away?" " I went to Glasgow, and then to Canada. I have been in South America and Australia. I was a rolling stone. I'm afraid I was a bad boy." "You were a regular vagabond," and she joined in the hearty laughter of the soldier. "I could not stick the holiness of that elder brother of mine." " Whatever he was then, he is a man of upright, sterling character now." " Why, I believe you are a bit of a plaster saint yourself!" "Well, I prefer good people." ' " I have often thought what a truly sainted woman my mother was, but her mild admonitions could not curb my waywardness." In the pause Avhich ensued the soldier produced from a pocket book five unpolished stones, and asked the lady which she prefered. She chose an opal, and* he begged her to keep it as a memento. ' The girl who had got the ha'penny from the "regular vagabond" got the gem from the returned prodigal who had " made good." He was on four days' furlough. She was on twenty-four hours' leave. On two drama tic occasions, with a quarter of a century between, the circles of their lives had touched. As I descended at my wayside station I thought it — A " strange coincidence," to use a phrase By which such things are settled nowadays.