I was ashamed and promised not to do so again, nor to
climb up there with him.
As time passed, I watched wistfully for my sister's return, and thought
a great deal about the folks at grandma's. I tried to remember all that
had happened while I was there, and felt sure they were waiting for me
to pay the promised visit. A great longing often made me rush out
behind a large tree near the river, where no one could see or hear me
feel sorry for myself, and where I would wonder if God was taking care
of the others and did not know where I lived.
I still feel the wondrous thrill, and bid my throbbing heart beat
slower, when I recall the joy that tingled through every part of my
being on that evening when, unexpectedly, Leanna and Georgia came to
the door. Yet, so short-lived was that joy that the event has always
seemed more like a disquieting dream than a reality; for they came at
night and were gone in the morning, and left me sorrowing.
A few months ago, I wrote to Georgia (now Mrs. Babcock), who lives in
the State of Washington, for her recollections of that brief reunion,
and she replied:
Before we went to Sonoma with Grandma Brunner in the Fall of 1847,
Leanna and I paid you a visit. We reached your home at dusk. Mr.
McCoon and Elitha were not there. We were so glad to meet, but our
visit was too short. You and I were given a cup of bread and milk
and sent to bed.
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