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One Sunday evening Pa’s fiddle was singing a Sunday tune and they were all singing heartily with it,
“When cheerful we meet in our pleasant home
And the song of joy is swelling,
Do we pause to think of the tears that flow
In sorrow’s lonely dwelling?
Let us lend a hand—”
The fiddle stopped suddenly. Outdoors a strong voice was singing:
“—to those who are faint and weary,
Let us lend a hand to those on the pilgrim way.”
The fiddle squawked in amazement as Pa dropped it on the table and hurried to the door. The cold burst in and the door slammed behind him. Outside it there was an outburst of voices; then the door flung open and two snowy men stumbled in while Pa said behind them, “I’ll see to putting up your team, be with you right away.”
One of the men was tall and thin. Between his cap and muffler Laura saw blue, kind eyes. Before she knew what she was doing she heard herself screaming, “Reverend Alden! Reverend Alden!”
“Not Brother Alden!” Ma exclaimed. “Why, Brother Alden!”
He had taken off his cap and now they could all see his pleasant eyes and his dark brown hair.
“We are pleased to see you, Brother Alden,” Ma said. “Come to the fire. This is a surprise!”
“You are no more surprised than I am, Sister Ingalls,” said the Reverend Alden. “I left you folks settled on Plum Creek. I had no idea you were ’way out west. And here are my little country girls grown into women!”
Laura could not say a word. Her throat was choked with the joy of seeing Reverend Alden again. But Mary said politely, “We are glad to see you again, sir.” Mary’s face was shining with gladness; only her sightless eyes were blank. They startled Reverend Alden. He looked quickly at Ma, and then at Mary again.
“Mr. and Mrs. Boast, our neighbors, Reverend Alden,” said Ma.
Reverend Alden said, “You were all doing some fine singing when we drove up,” and Mr. Boast said, “You did some fine singing yourself, sir.”
“Oh, I wasn’t the one who joined in,” said Reverend Alden. “That was Scotty, here. I was too cold, but his red hair keeps him warm. Reverend Stuart, these are old, good friends of mine, and their friends, so we are all friends together.”
Reverend Stuart was so young that he was not much more than a big boy. His hair was flaming red, his face was red with cold, and his eyes were a sparkling cold gray.
“Set the table, Laura,” Ma said quietly, tying on her apron. Mrs. Boast put on an apron too, and they were all busy, poking up the fire, setting the kettle to boil for tea, making biscuits, frying potatoes, while Mr. Boast talked to the visitors who stood in the way, thawing themselves by the stove. Pa came from the stable with two more men, who owned the team. They were homesteaders, going out to settle on the Jim River.
Laura heard Reverend Alden say, “We two are just passengers. We hear there’s a settlement on the Jim, a town named Huron. The Home Missionary Society sent us out to look over the ground and make ready to start a church there.”
“I guess there’s a townsite marked out on the railroad grade,” said Pa. “But I never heard of any building there, except a saloon.”
“All the more reason we should get a church started,” Reverend Alden answered cheerfully.
After the travelers had eaten supper, he came to the door of the pantry where Ma and Laura were washing the dishes. He thanked Ma for the good supper and then he said, “I am sorry indeed, Sister Ingalls, to see the affliction that has come to Mary.”
“Yes, Brother Alden,” Ma answered sadly. “Sometimes it is hard to be resigned to God’s will. We all had scarlet fever in our place on Plum Creek, and for a while it was hard to get along. But I’m thankful that all the children were spared to us. Mary is a great comfort to me, Brother Alden. She has never once repined.”
“Mary is a rare soul, and a lesson to all of us,” said Reverend Alden. “We must remember that whom the Lord loveth, He chasteneth, and a brave spirit will turn all our afflictions to good. I don’t know whether you and Brother Ingalls know that there are colleges for the blind. There is one in Iowa.”
Ma took tight hold of the edge of the dishpan. Her face startled Laura. Her gentle voice sounded choked and hungry. She asked, “How much does it cost?”
“I don’t know, Sister Ingalls,” Reverend Alden answered. “I will make inquiries for you if you like.”
Ma swallowed and went on washing dishes. She said, “We can’t afford it. But perhaps, later—if it doesn’t cost too much, we might somehow manage, sometime. I always wanted Mary to have an education.”
