The Lark came rushing in as though it had no intention of stopping. And only when the engine and baggage cars were well past did the air brakes give their screaming hiss and the straining iron protest to a halt.

The train delivered quite a crowd for Salinas, returning relatives home for Thanksgiving, their hands entangled in cartons and gift-wrapped paper boxes. It was a moment or two before his family could locate Aron. And then they saw him, and he seemed bigger than he had been.

He was wearing a flat-topped, narrow-brimmed hat, very stylish, and when he saw them he broke into a run and yanked off his hat, and they could see that his bright hair was clipped to a short brush of a pompadour that stood straight up. And his eyes shone so that they laughed with pleasure to see him.

Aron dropped his suitcase and lifted Abra from the ground in a great hug. He set her down and gave Adam and Cal his two hands. He put his arms around Lee’s shoulders and nearly crushed him.

On the way home they all talked at once. “Well, how are you?”

“You look fine.”

“Abra, you’re so pretty.”

“I am not. Why did you cut your hair?”

“Oh, everybody wears it that way,”

“But you have such nice hair.”

They hurried up to Main Street and one short block and around the corner on Central past Reynaud’s with stacked French bread in the window and black-haired Mrs. Reynaud waved her flour-pale hand at them and they were home.

Adam said, “Coffee, Lee?”

“I made it before we left. It’s on the simmer.” He had the cups laid out too. Suddenly they were together—Aron and Abra on the couch, Adam in his chair under the light, Lee passing coffee, and Cal braced in the doorway to the hall. And they were silent, for it was too late to say hello and too early to begin other things.

Adam did say, “I’ll want to hear all about it. Will you get good marks?”

“Finals aren’t until next month, Father.”

“Oh, I see. Well, you’ll get good marks, all right. I’m sure you will.”

In spite of himself a grimace of impatience crossed Aron’s face.

“I’ll bet you’re tired,” said Adam. “Well, we can talk tomorrow.”

Lee said, “I’ll bet he’s not. I’ll bet he’d like to be alone.”

Adam looked at Lee and said, “Why, of course—of course. Do you think we should all go to bed?”

Abra solved it for them. “I can’t stay out long,” she said. “Aron, why don’t you walk me home? We’ll be together tomorrow.”

On the way Aron clung to her arm. He shivered. “There’s going to a frost,” he said.

“You’re glad to be back.”

“Yes, I am. I have a lot to talk about.”

“Good things?”

“Maybe. I hope you think so.”

“You sound serious.”

“It is serious.”

“When do you have to go back?”

“Not until Sunday night.”

“We’ll have lots of time. I want to tell you some things too. We have tomorrow and Friday and Saturday and all day Sunday. Would you mind not coming in tonight?”