He held his hammer suspended in the air, about to drive a set nail, and he looked over the truck side at Tom, looked resentful at being interrupted. And then his chin drove forward and his eyes looked at Tom’s face, and then gradually his brain became aware of what he saw. The hammer dropped slowly to his side, and with his left hand he took the nails from his mouth. And he said wonderingly, as though he told himself the fact, “It’s Tommy—’’ And then, still informing himself, “It’s Tommy come home.’’ His mouth opened again, and a look of fear came into his eyes. “Tommy,’’ he said softly, “you
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