Page:Frank Owen - Rare Earth, 1931.djvu/282

 thing. Oh, to be a child once more, without care or worry, playing about in the woods and fields.

He heard a stir in the far corner of the room.

"Is that you, Hung Long Tom?" he asked.

"Yes," was the reply. "I guess you have been dreaming. I too have slept a bit."

"I dreamed of my mother," said Scobee. "Now I have something to live for. Perhaps in dreams she will come to me again. Sometimes a man lives more greatly in a dream than in his waking hours. Who knows? All through my life her personality watched over me, the house sheltered and protected me. It is only logical that she would care and watch over me now when I need her so utterly."