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"
Oh
!
my
Daddy
,
my
Daddy
!
"
That
scream
went
like
a
knife
into
the
heart
of
everyone
in
the
train
,
and
people
put
their
heads
out
of
the
windows
to
see
a
tall
pale
man
with
lips
set
in
a
thin
close
line
,
and
a
little
girl
clinging
to
him
with
arms
and
legs
,
while
his
arms
went
tightly
round
her
.
*
*
*
"
I
knew
something
wonderful
was
going
to
happen
,
"
said
Bobbie
,
as
they
went
up
the
road
,
"
but
I
did
n't
think
it
was
going
to
be
this
.
Oh
,
my
Daddy
,
my
Daddy
!
"
"
Then
did
n't
Mother
get
my
letter
?
"
Father
asked
.
"
There
were
n't
any
letters
this
morning
.
Oh
!
Daddy
!
it
IS
really
you
,
is
n't
it
?
"
The
clasp
of
a
hand
she
had
not
forgotten
assured
her
that
it
was
.
"
You
must
go
in
by
yourself
,
Bobbie
,
and
tell
Mother
quite
quietly
that
it
's
all
right
.
They
've
caught
the
man
who
did
it
.
Everyone
knows
now
that
it
was
n't
your
Daddy
.
"
"
I
always
knew
it
was
n't
,
"
said
Bobbie
.
"
Me
and
Mother
and
our
old
gentleman
.
"
"
Yes
,
"
he
said
,
"
it
's
all
his
doing
.
Mother
wrote
and
told
me
you
had
found
out
.
And
she
told
me
what
you
'd
been
to
her
.
My
own
little
girl
!
"
They
stopped
a
minute
then
.
And
now
I
see
them
crossing
the
field
.
Bobbie
goes
into
the
house
,
trying
to
keep
her
eyes
from
speaking
before
her
lips
have
found
the
right
words
to
"
tell
Mother
quite
quietly
"
that
the
sorrow
and
the
struggle
and
the
parting
are
over
and
done
,
and
that
Father
has
come
home
.
I
see
Father
walking
in
the
garden
,
waiting
--
waiting
.
He
is
looking
at
the
flowers
,
and
each
flower
is
a
miracle
to
eyes
that
all
these
months
of
Spring
and
Summer
have
seen
only
flagstones
and
gravel
and
a
little
grudging
grass
.
But
his
eyes
keep
turning
towards
the
house
.
And
presently
he
leaves
the
garden
and
goes
to
stand
outside
the
nearest
door
.
It
is
the
back
door
,
and
across
the
yard
the
swallows
are
circling
.
They
are
getting
ready
to
fly
away
from
cold
winds
and
keen
frost
to
the
land
where
it
is
always
summer
.
They
are
the
same
swallows
that
the
children
built
the
little
clay
nests
for
