months, nor did she ply him with a lot of unnecessary questions.
The same attitude was adopted by his family. Roma prepared a special dinner for him on his first night home but she, too, had the grace to appreciate his need for rest. His father greeted him simply but he searched his face to see if he could notice any change. He imagined that his boy looked a bit less careworn.
Perhaps there was hope. His toil on the Joel farmstead had had almost the same effect upon him as the Chinese trip had had upon Scobee. It had brought him tranquillity. Once more the soil had been kind to him.
During those first days home Scobee spent a great deal of time in the attic. He had much to think about. China had given him enormous food for thought. What did life mean? What did all those teeming millions of yellow men mean? What did the teeming millions of black men in Africa mean? What did the millions of white men mean? Were they merely
notes in a mighty universal symphony? Were
