"It'll spoil him,--ruin him," they said; and
they talked as though they knew. But full half the black folk
followed him proudly to the station, and carried his queer
little trunk and many bundles. And there they shook and
shook hands, and the girls kissed him shyly and the boys
clapped him on the back. So the train came, and he pinched
his little sister lovingly, and put his great arms about his
mother's neck, and then was away with a puff and a roar into
the great yellow world that flamed and flared about the
doubtful pilgrim. Up the coast they hurried, past the squares
and palmettos of Savannah, through the cotton-fields and
through the weary night, to Millville, and came with the
morning to the noise and bustle of Johnstown.
And they that stood behind, that morning in Altamaha, and
watched the train as it noisily bore playmate and brother and
son away to the world, had thereafter one ever-recurring
word,--"When John comes." Then what parties were to be,
and what speakings in the churches; what new furniture in the
front room,--perhaps even a new front room; and there would
be a new schoolhouse, with John as teacher; and then perhaps
a big wedding; all this and more--when John comes.
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