 CHAPTER XIII. Those who came in contact with Miss Parkhurst, the morning after the teacher's meeting, had no reason to think that it had improved her. She was unaccountably irritable. The truth was, her mind was occupied with the question of the Saturday evening hop. She dreaded Mr. Tracey's influence over her. She had too long been in the habit of doing as he said, not to feel inclined to do it now. At the same time, she was honest in not wanting to go to the hop. Just why she didn't desire to go, she did not understand. She only knew that the place and the people whom she would be likely to meet were all at variance with her present mood. In two, the associations from which she had so recently come were so utterly at variance with her usual surroundings, that she recognized, as she had not before, the inconsistencies between her life and its professions. The question was still unsettled when she went to breakfast. And she sipped her coffee and pronounced it too sweet, and then too weak, and then not hot enough. All the while having a miserable sort of feeling that she was being ill-used in being made to think and decide. There is a note from Miss Kelly saying that she cannot do another thing until you come and see about it, and unless you come this morning she is afraid she cannot be ready by tomorrow. This information her mother gave as she passed the repaired coffee for the third time. I opened the note last night. It came while you were away, and I thought there might be something to attend to at once. Miss Parker's face brightened. Miss Kelly was the dressmaker. She certainly ought to see about the work as soon as possible, for she really needed her dress for tomorrow. It was after eight. Mr. Tracey generally went downtown about nine. It would never do to wait until after his call. Miss Kelly had, of course, been at work since seven o'clock. It wasn't fair to keep her waiting any longer. She would go at once. Then she should put off the annoying discussion until one o'clock at least, for he could not leave the bank before that time. How fortunate it was that Miss Kelly should be wanting her on that particular morning! She finished her coffee in haste and only came back when she was half way down the steps with her message. Together George said he would run in on an errand on his way downtown, but I cannot wait for him. Tell him that I was obliged to go out in haste, and that if he wants to see me he must try again. And then she was off. As she walked briskly down Chestnut Street, a new idea came to her. What if the decision should be taken out of her hands in this way? A sort of miraculous intervention. She certainly did not want to go to that party. It didn't seem just the way to spend Saturday evening anyway. She would be very glad of an excuse to keep her from going. There used to be plenty of miracles in old times about smaller things than these. She didn't see why there shouldn't be such things nowadays. In fact, there were. She had heard Mr. Gordon say he had been kept from doing thus and so. What did he mean if not something like this? It was a most blissful discovery. George would save her from thinking anything more about the troublesome matter. She could just give herself up to the press of circumstances. If the Lord hedged up her way so that she could not go to the party, why, of course, it would be absurd in George to be offended with her. Very much exhilarated by this state of things, and believing herself quite as worthy of having miracles performed for her as ever Joshua was, she met Miss Kelly with a bright face. It surprised even Miss Parkhurst, who was on the lookout for miracles, to see what a number of errands there were to do that morning that seemed to demand immediate attention. She was genuinely astonished when, on reference to her watch, it appeared that it was ten minutes after one o'clock, and Miss Kelly raised her window and called to her as she passed the door. I must really detain you a moment, Miss Parkhurst. We have found it impossible to match the shade of velvet in the city, and we want to consult with you as to what is to be done. The lady in question ran gleefully up the steps, thinking as she did so. The bank opens again at two. Wouldn't it be strange if I should be detained so as to miss his afternoon call? I should really feel as though I had been led to just this arrangement. There was something ludicrous in this being led to spend an afternoon in search of a particular shade of purple velvet in order to be kept from the disagreeableness of coming to a decision, but the ludicrous side did not occur to Miss Parkhurst, and she dallyed over her decisions in a way that was quite a trial to Miss Kelly's patience. It was ten minutes to two when she left the house charged with a commission to order some cambrick from Belden and Mosher's, to be sent up immediately. The firm of Belden and Mosher was away downtown. At any other time Miss Parkhurst would have felt too tired to have taken the errand, but she was engaged in helping out a miraculous intervention of Providence this morning, and, of course, was bound to do her best. She walked home from the store in a very complacent frame of mind, telling herself that it had occurred to her to take Crawford Street instead of the shorter and pleasanter route that would have led her past the Iron Bank, for a tete-a-tete with Mr. Tracy was, of course, to be avoided. Poor George, she said, as she ran up the steps of her mother's house. I wonder if he will be vexed. It does seem too bad. I suppose he went out of his way to call this noon, but it really wasn't any planning of mine. I don't see how I could have helped it. Now there remains the planning of what to say to him this evening, or perhaps he will get discouraged and not try it again. I do believe I will go to the prayer meeting to-night. I am a teacher, and I really ought to be there. It won't make much difference, though, if I give up my class. I wonder if I shall give it up. Then she went in and sought her mother in the dining-room, eager for an account of Mr. Tracy's state of mind. Has George been here? She asked, the moment she caught sight of her mother, ready to sit down to the waiting lunch-table. Mrs. Parkhurst shook her head. I haven't seen him, she said. That greasy little Tommy, who does the bank errands, brought a note here about ten o'clock. I should think they might find a more respectable boy to work for them. What a time you have been! I could have a wedding outfit planned in this time. I thought I should faint. Where have you been all the while? Where is the note? said Mrs. Parkhurst, and at that moment, spying it beside her plate, she seized it. There was barely three lines. Dear Cora, oppressive work has detained me from calling. After all it will make no difference, though. With the brightness of the morning I am sure that your brightness must have returned. Be ready at eight promptly, if possible, as it is quite a drive. As ever, and in haste, George. What an ignominious end for a miraculous undertaking! Instead of wearying herself in her trip through the city, so far as her affairs were concerned she might as well have sat quietly at home. She went upstairs in an irritable and ill-used state of mind. The miserable decision was no nearer its making than before. Well, she said in an injured tone, I don't see but I am to be compelled to go in spite of my attempts to avoid it. I am sure I can't be blamed. I have struggled hard against it. And then her mood changed, and there came a feeling very light complacence over her in the thought that she had struggled against circumstances using providence as a helper and circumstances had been too much for them both. She by no means put it in this irreverent way. She would have been utterly shocked had anyone suggested to her that such was her state of mind. But when people go to attributing their own foolish evasions of decisions in that imbecile way, how else can you put it? You will not, I think, be surprised to hear that half-past seven found our lady hurrying through the mysteries of her toilet in eager haste to be ready for Mr. Tracy at eight o'clock. She had decided that it would not do to let that gentleman come for her at that late hour, fully expecting her company to a place where fashion decreed that gentlemen should be accompanied by ladies and then disappoint him. I think, myself, that it would be a very shabby way to treat a gentleman, but Miss Parkhurst had ignored the fact that there was such a thing as writing a note. That would have involved a decision on her part, and we have seen that she had determined on leaving the entire matter in the hands of what she chose to call providence. Her schoolgirl sister came up the stairs two steps at a time and tapped at the door. The two antagonistic forces of your being are below stairs. She said, leaning over a chair and watching the effect of a blue bow on her sister's hair. What am I to say to each of them? What? Why the two elements that are contending for your approval or your company or something are waiting below, each eager for a message. George represents the world, the flesh, and the other one perhaps, and Mr. Hammond is solemn enough just now to stand for the other side, whatever they call them. I am not so familiar with their synonyms. Mr. Hammond, is he there? He is. The two gentlemen arrived almost together. At least I had just seated Mr. Hammond when George came. Miss Parkhurst looked annoyed. This was an interposition that she had neither planned nor expected. I won't see him. I shall have to go with George now anyway. This she said talking to herself, but she said it aloud, whereupon her wise young sister laughed. Tell Mr. Hammond that I have an engagement this evening and shall have to be excused, and tell George I shall be ready in a few minutes. This was her message, and yet at that moment in her heart she had a pilotish sort of feeling that she had washed her hand of the whole matter, and was being led whether she would not. The two gentlemen in the parlor below had each an uncomfortable feeling, as was usual when they came in contact. Mr. Hammond's call had been actuated by a feeling of self-reproach, in part, and in part by the hope that the most indifferent teacher that he knew in the Sunday school was on the way to improvement. He had seen hopeful signs during part of the previous evening, but had finally parted from her in such an annoyed state of mind that he felt as if he never wanted to see her again. During the day he had reproved himself for his hasty and faithless spirit, hence his call this evening. It was just possible that he might persuade her to go to the teacher's prayer meeting, from whence he hoped that she might gain an impetus to be found nowhere else. No sooner was he seated than Mr. Tracey made his appearance. He, on his part, was excessively annoyed on seeing the occupant of the sofa. He had been in a troubled state of mind all day, and was by no means sure of his lady's company for the evening. As his note indicated, he had reason to know that she could be obstinate when she chose. She might choose now, and there were reasons why it would be especially trying on this particular evening. His face grew dark with frowns as he recognized Mr. Hammond, and he inwardly vowed that if Cora had made an appointment with him, he would give her an opportunity to choose which of them she would keep for a friend. Mr. Hammond, remembering his friend Lewis's caution in regard to the gentleman before him, roused himself to be courteous. Have you an engagement with Miss Parkhurst this evening, may I ask? He said courteously, as the two gentlemen waited the return of their messenger. I ask that I may know what my probable success will be. I called to invite her to our teacher's prayer meeting, not knowing, but she may have other plans. Mr. Tracey's spirits rose. This fellow was not ahead of him then. He might as well have a little fun. I believe I have, he said, with great positiveness. If I mistake not, we are to enjoy the private hop that is given at the new hotel this evening. We ought to be on the way by this time, but ladies are never quite ready for an engagement, at least so far as promptness is concerned. And then he gave himself up to the enjoyment of the evident disapproval, not to say horror, on the face of his listener. He knew enough about the ways of the clique, which word he was fond of applying to those Christians whose lives were stamped with their belief as plainly as this man's was, to understand that a Saturday evening hop would not be deemed the most desirable place in the world for a Sabbath school teacher. Mr. Hammond was spared the necessity of a reply by the arrival of Miss Parkhurst's regrets, and he went away feeling that it was no sort of use to try to do anything for her, and he should drop all effort in that direction, and that he would advise a change of teachers for that class of hers the very first opportunity that he had, and all the while I suppose there had never been a time in her life when she more needed help than she did at this moment. For when a Christian woman adopts the silly notion that to float with the tide without an effort to judge understandingly and prayerfully as to the right and wrong of questions is being led by Providence, she is in a dangerous state of mind. CHAPTER XIV It was such a lovely Sunday morning. The world looked just as glad and happy as a world can look. The church bells seemed like joyful music. That is, they sounded so to some people. What a pity that people and things cannot be in tune in this world. Now I am obliged to confess that these same church bells sounded like jangling discord to Miss Parkhurst. They made her headache. They made her hair snarl, or something did. She twitched a hair pin out nervously, flung it on the floor with an impatient exclamation, and drew a long sigh. It isn't conductive to health to go to a hop on Saturday evening. This her young sister said in a tone of mock sympathy, bestowing a mischievous glance at the lady before the glass from under a veil of hair that she was parting in the middle. I wish you wouldn't persist in calling it a hop. Miss Parkhurst spoke in irritable voice. Can't a small company of friends meet each other for an hour in the evening without having the children talk about hops? The child laughed merrily. An hour? Oh, Cora, you know the clock struck twelve long before you came in. I should think a church member ought to have conscientious scruples against dancing parties on Saturday. Millie Burns says she has gotten over her prejudices against that class of people. She used to think that she would never join a church in the world, but she would just as soon be a member now is not. They are not a bit different from other people. Millie Burns is a silly girl, and you are another. If you talk nonsense all the morning you will be late to Sabbath school as you usually are. With such sisterly caution Miss Parkhurst finished tying the bow to her sash and swept hotly from the room. This was unusual talk between the sisters. The younger one was given to sarcasm and sharpsightedness, but her good-natured roommate was in the habit of meeting all her words with merry laughter and playful answers. Miss Parkhurst did not wait for her sister to complete her toilet. She was in no mood for waiting this morning. She had come to a decision at last. This was to be her last day in the Sabbath school. She was not fitted to be a teacher, she said, in a miserable fit of humility. The girl should have someone who could do better for them than she ever had. She took credit to herself for speaking so plainly about this matter. It is not shirking, she said with a dismal sort of complacency. I am perfectly willing to continue the work, only I see plainly that I am not fit for it. Some people are suited to be teachers and some are not. I am clearly one of the latter. George has seen this plainly enough this long time. I daresay others have seen it and talked about it. I shall give them up. I haven't the least idea that I ever did them any good. I don't know how to do it. But I shall miss them. I know I shall. I don't believe I shall know what to do with myself for a few Sundays. I have been in school so long it will seem queer not to be hurrying to get there before the opening exercises are over. This was Miss Parkhurst's soliloquy as she walked slowly down the shady side of the street toward the Park Street Church. She was early. There had been that in her decision, or else it was in the strong coffee that she drank late at night, which had prevented her morning nap, and for almost the first time since she could remember she was in her place among the very early ones, earlier than the superintendent, for which she was sorry. She wanted to talk with him and have the matter over. She was nervous and unhappy. The decision hadn't given her heart the rest and relief that she had hoped from it. He is a great superintendent. She told herself in an irritable aside. He might know that the teachers would like to consult him. And yet this was the first time that she could remember of being present to see whether he was there or not. He was unaccountably detained. Teachers and scholars filed in, but no superintendent. Her own class filled, and the girls exchanged glances of surprise that she knew were called forth by her early appearance. Every one of them knew where and how she had spent Saturday evening. Mr. Hammond came and took his seat at her left with a grave bow. He was surprised, too. She wondered vaguely just when their paths would cross again, and realized that in severing her connection with the Sabbath school she was cutting herself off from association with people like him. He won't call on me any more, she said, and a little flush gathered on her face. But I don't care, George will be comfortable anyway, and I suppose I shall be, too. I've been pulled two ways long enough, I'm sure I'm tired of it. At the very last moment the superintendent bustled in with the air of a man who was late and knew it. There was no time to appeal to him then, though Miss Parkhurst had fully meant to decline teaching the class that morning. Her thoughts were suddenly turned into a new channel by the arrival of Sarah Blake just as the opening hymn was being announced. Contrary to the expectation of everyone, that young lady had recovered. More than that, the night that her teacher had spent with her was the one on which the favourable change had taken place. It was five weeks since that time, and Miss Parkhurst, though hearing from her occasionally, had not been near her since, and it was with a feeling somewhat like that which one might have on seeing someone come in whom they thought dead that she looked upon her. She had never realised that Sarah was to get well. The girls greeted the newcomer with a show of kindness and interest. She moved in different spheres from most of them, but she was human and so were they, and they realised for a moment that she had come back to them from the edge of the grave. As for Miss Parkhurst, this but increased her embarrassment. She had learnt just enough about the lesson to realise that she did not know how to teach it. With the memory of those solemn, sunken eyes as they had last looked into hers, she felt that she could not teach it. During the singing and prayer she decided as to her course of action. She meant to say to them, Girls, I am going to give up the class. I don't know how to teach you. You ought to have a better teacher than I have been, and I mean you shall. She took great credit to herself for her determination to speak thus plainly about herself. Then she thought they would talk the matter over about getting such a teacher as they would like, and what with the library books and their usual difficulty about being suited, they would contrive to get through the half hour without any attempt at that awful lesson, which was so bristling with personal questions, according to the views that the teachers in their Friday evening meeting had taken. No sooner was Mr. Gordon's voice hushed than she turned toward them with the prepared sentence on her tongue. But Sarah Blake was ahead of her, speaking eagerly. Miss Parkhurst, I wanted to see you and the girls so much. I wish you could have come to see me, but after that dreadful night I gave you I was afraid to try again. But I knew you would be so glad of what I have to tell you. Miss Parkhurst, it is all so different. It is just as you said and as you read. I shall never be afraid again. I have found out how to die and how to live. Oh, Miss Parkhurst, I shall never know how to thank you! There was surprise and bewilderment and consternation on Miss Parkhurst's face, all struggling for the mastery. Surprise to hear Sarah Blake talking in this unknown tongue, why Sarah Blake had been almost, if not quite, a scoffer. Bewilderment that anyone could speak thus freely and familiarly to her on this embarrassing subject and actually announce her as a helper. Consternation, because in this new and strange development she did not know what to do or what to answer. There was another feeling struggling to gain notice, and that was a strange little thrill of pleasure. Had she really helped someone? And on this of all other subjects. It was very strange. And why, yes, it was pleasant. But what was she to say? Sarah gave her little chance to reply. Now, Miss Parkhurst, I want to go to work. I have wasted all my life so far, and when I found out this wonderful thing and then thought I was going straight to heaven, just as the man you read me about did, why, it had its sorry side even then. I wanted to do one little thing to show how glad and how happy I was, and I said to myself, if I should get well after all, oh, how I will work, and now I mean to. And you must show me how. What can I do? It has been so hard to wait until I got well enough to come here. I wanted to talk with you so much. Tell me what I can do. This was certainly the English language, and yet it sounded almost as unfamiliar to Miss Parkhurst's ears as if it were an unknown tongue. How did she know what was to be done or how to do it? Yet with what new strange respect did this girl wait for her answer, seemingly assured that she was the very one to help? It certainly was pleasant, even though it was the most embarrassing question she had ever been asked in her life. Meantime, Sarah waited. I don't know, her teacher said slowly, timidly. There are things to do, of course, but just how or what, with long pauses between the words. They have prayer meetings, you know. Sarah caught at the words. Girls' prayer meetings do you mean, Miss Parkhurst? So they do, and I would like that. You would, too, wouldn't you, Mary? And Miss Parkhurst, you would lead them, wouldn't you? Let's have one this very week. Oh, my patience, no! Miss Parkhurst said, frightened out of her bewilderment. I never could do such a thing. Sarah smiled incredulously. Oh, but Miss Parkhurst, you know I remember what you did for me. Mr. Newton, she said, catching at the superintendent's sleeve as he passed. We want a prayer meeting. Will you appoint it? For the girls you know, and Miss Parkhurst to lead it. Not any of the other teachers, because we shall be afraid of them. When would be a good evening, girls? Don't you think Saturday would, because we get out from the factory earlier? Mr. Newton looked scarcely less bewildered than Miss Parkhurst. He wasn't quite certain which surprised him most, such a proposition from Sarah Blake's lips, or the announcement of Miss Parkhurst as leader. He half suspected that a rude joke was about to be attempted. Something of this fear showed in his face, for Sarah hastened to say, We mean it. Honestly, we do, Mr. Newton. Miss Parkhurst suggested it herself. It is an excellent idea, he said cordially, and turning with new interest toward Miss Parkhurst. What evening do you decide? I shall be only too glad to announce it. Where are you to meet? Sure enough, Sarah said, I really hadn't thought of that. If we could meet with you, Miss Parkhurst, or would that be too much trouble? Thus questioned, with Mr. Newton looking on and listening, with Miss Celia Evans laughing and enjoying it all as a new sensation, what could poor puzzled Miss Parkhurst do? She was being led with or she would not. Some faint memory of her recent frantic search after a miracle came to her, and with it a hurried question as to whether this was not a miracle that had come without her seeking or desire. And then she said hurriedly, Why, you can meet in our parlor, of course. How absurd it would be to refuse. And Mr. Newton went back to his desk with a pleased smile on his face. It gives me great pleasure and encouragement to make one announcement, he said a little later. On Saturday evening of this week, there will be a young lady's prayer meeting at the house of Miss Parkhurst, number 347 Lafayette Place. There is a general request that the young ladies of our Sunday school will respond to this invitation. I am glad to tell you that this suggestion comes from one of our teachers who is deeply interested in its success. Now, of course, Mr. Newton may be pardoned for thinking that every word of this was true. But imagine if you can, with what feelings that teacher heard the announcement. A blessed ray of sunlight after a long night of clouds. Mr. Hammond said, lingering and clasping the superintendent's hand in a hearty grasp. Tell me what teacher we have, whose faith and prayers have reached up to this effort. Miss Parkhurst, Mr. Newton said briefly. Miss Parkhurst, echoed Mr. Hammond in utter amaze, and neither gentleman spoke another word. To this day Miss Parkhurst has a very indistinct and confused idea as to how she employed the remainder of that half hour as regards the lesson. But she remembers that she decided that it would not do to resign her class on that Sunday at least. End of Chapter 14 Chapter 15 of Cunning Workmen by Pansy. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 15. Satan at Work There was a very curious combination of circumstances that led to the coming of some of the class to the Saturday prayer meeting. Certain it is that some of them who had not the slightest idea of being found there went. Let me tell you how it was, and see if you do not think that Satan himself assisted materially in the success of this new enterprise. Of course it was a blunder on his part. It is no new business for him to have a hand even in a prayer meeting, but I think he rarely makes such a bungal for himself as this proved to be. At their breakfast table on Saturday morning Mrs. Horton said, Girls, this would be as good an evening as any for your croquet party. Miss Fanny shook her head. No mother, Miss Parkhurst could not come this evening, and you know she invited us to hers, so we will have to wait until we are not positive that she has an engagement. What engagement has she for the evening that you happen to know about? Oh, I remember, little Nell told of a prayer meeting that was announced at her house. I thought the child must be mistaken and was going to ask you about it, but it slipped my mind. What does it mean? It is true, Mama, there is a lady's prayer meeting appointed at her house for this evening, and she is to be the leader. Young Wells Horton looked up suddenly from the morning paper over which he was glancing while he sipped his coffee. Is that an actual fact? He asked, at last, a curious expression on his face and a laugh in his voice. A positive fact, Wells, I heard the appointment with my own ears. Then Mr. Wells Horton leaned back in his chair and indulged in a hearty, ha ha! It is the richest thing of the season! He said at last. Why, I should as soon expect to hear of my Eddie leading a prayer meeting. Mother, you know the hop we attended last Saturday evening, and which scandalized you a little, being on Saturday. Well, Miss Parkhurst was there, among the last to take her departure, and she was one of the gayest of the party the entire evening. From a dance to a prayer meeting and leader of both is quite a jump, I should say. May Horton came to the rescue. She was smuggled into it as much against her will as it would have been against mine. That absurd Sarah Blake has been sick and frightened to death because she thought she was going to die, and she seems to think that as an excuse for doing all sorts of absurd and out-of-place things. Miss Parkhurst was just forced into an absurd position. I feel sorry for her. Her sister Fanny spoke almost fiercely. I am not sorry for her in the least. Why does she want to pretend to be what she isn't? She has put herself in a false position, and I don't care how much embarrassment it causes her. I don't believe she is any more of a Christian than I am, and she has herself to thank for the attempt to pull two ways at once. Judge Knot that ye began Mrs. Horton, who had a character for Christianity to sustain, and did not care to have it probed. But her son interrupted her with another laugh. This is rich, he said, when the laugh was over. I wish gentlemen were admitted. I would like to see Korra Parkhurst in such a position. I tell you what, girls, if you will go and give us a report of it, I will make you a present of a box of kids, assorted colors. May looked up eagerly. Honestly, will you? She asked. As sure as my name is Horton. I wouldn't, began Mrs. Horton faintly. You shouldn't ridicule such things. But mother, Wells said, I should think it would be no more than courteous to attend. Of course, she ought to be sustained by her class. Come, Fanny, what do you say? It is a horrid bore, Fanny said fretfully. I should think you might give us the gloves without such disagreeable conditions. Not a bit of it, her brother said promptly. You fulfill the conditions and I furnish the reward. That is fair. May's eyes were dancing. Come, Fanny, let's go, she said. I would really like to see how she gets out of it. Fanny's eyes expressed scorn. I thought you were sorry for her, she said sharply. Well, so I am, but I did not get her into this scrape. She got herself there by your own showing, and it will not hurt her for us to see what she does. Besides, we really need new gloves, you know, to match our suits. In this way, Satan sent them to the meeting. His arrangements with Miss Celia Evans were conducted on a different scale. She and Lester St. John walked from the post office together on the afternoon of the meeting. Isn't that a new departure for Miss Parkhurst? He said as they passed her door. I was so amazed to hear that notice last Sunday. If it had been a concert or a dance, it wouldn't have been so surprising. What is the object anyway? In some classes there would have been a show of sense in it. But she hasn't a scholar to sustain her, has she? At least not more than one. How do you know but I am going myself? There were reasons why Lester St. John's treatment of this question annoyed his companion. He threw back his head and laughed as loudly as Wells Horton had done. I should as soon think of seeing Judge Willard at a prayer meeting, he said with emphasis. Or yourself, she answered more and more annoyed. Myself? Oh yes, sooner. I went to a prayer meeting not long ago to please Mr. Hammond, but he is a different sort of teacher from yours. Your powers of penetration are remarkable, but it is just possible that you may be disappointed once. Miss Evans's tone was decidedly spicy. St. John looked at her curiously. Now confess, he said, that you haven't the most remote intention of going to that meeting tonight, on your honor. She was silent for a whole second, and in that second of time she had come to a sudden determination entirely foreign to her previous plans. On my honor then, as you put it in that courteous manner, it is my full intention to be present at prayer meeting this evening. You are not absolute as an oracle, Mr. St. John. Now I want to know if Satan didn't work valiantly for the success of Sarah Blake's idea. Miss Parkhurst, sitting in her pleasant back parlor, in an absolute tremor of excitement and bewilderment as to how all this would end, was actually on the verge of giving him the credit when the gate clicked and a glance out revealed the Hortons coming up the walk and Celia Evans in the act of crossing the street opposite the gate, so dismayed was she at this unlooked-for addition to their number. Sarah and Hattie Taylor had been there for five minutes, and she had begun to hope that that would be the extent of their number. As for Hattie, her face was radiant with delight when she saw the girls and realized that they were coming to the meeting. Miss Parkhurst, Sarah said, isn't that so much more than we expected? Miss Parkhurst felt that it was so. You mustn't depend upon me, she said in a frightened way. I really never was at a lady's prayer meeting in my life. I don't know in the least how they do. Hattie, you know all about it and can take the lead yourself. But Hattie was young and timid. Her face flushed painfully. I am going to try to help, she said, but I think we must depend on you. And by that time the girls were all present, and sat in silence looking at her. It was well she knew nothing about that box of gloves. It would not have tended to compose her thoughts. At this embarrassing moment Mr. Tracey's quick step was heard on the walk. She knew it well, and she caught her breath nervously. Would the girl have sense enough to say that she was engaged? Of course not, since she had lacked the courage to tell her the nature of her engagement. She went to see Mr. Tracey. Isn't this a lovely evening? He said. I am fortunate in finding you. I want you to go for a walk. It is a surprise to you to have a call from me on Saturday evening, is it not? Make haste please. I have a scheming view which will require time. Now Mr. Tracey was another whom she had failed to tell of her engagement. She had relied on the almost uncertainty of his being detained by the pressure of Saturday accounts, and her teeth actually chattered as she realized the necessity of speaking plainly now. He looked at her in absolute bewilderment and repeated her words mechanically. A prayer meeting at your house with your class. Is the whole world growing demented, I wonder? Then he turned abruptly, without so much as a farewell bow, and walked away. Miss Parkhurst went back to her class. Girls, she said, speaking fast and nervously. I don't know what you will think of me, and I can't help it anyway. I can't lead your meeting this evening. I don't know how to pray. I don't think I ever knew. I have spent a dreadful day. I haven't been the right kind of a Christian. I have been a miserable teacher and a miserable leader in every way. I have felt this for a long time. Now I know it. The most I can do is ask you to pray for me. If anyone in this world ever needed praying for, it is I. And then her voice and words forsook her, and she sobbed aloud. There are few such prayer meetings as that was. Sarah Blake prayed as one who had learned of the Spirit himself, for you remember she had had no other teacher, and Hattie Taylor prayed from the very depths of her earnest heart, and Miss Parkhurst prayed. She could not help it. She felt so very miserable. She longed to get away from that misery. She had been so long tossed about with an unrestful spirit that she cried out with tears to be released. The very last attempt of Satan to discomfort her still more by sending Mr. Tracy just then only served to make her feel her loneliness and misery, for she felt she had offended him and was indeed alone. When her almost despairing cry for help was ended, May Horton, with her usually bright, laughing face, very grave, and with tears in her eyes, said, I wish she would pray for me. I don't think I ever cared in the least to be a Christian before, but now I almost think I want to be one. How many boxes of gloves, in his astonishment, would her brother Wells have pledged if he could have heard that? They went out very quietly from that meeting until Sarah Blake was left alone with her weeping teacher. Don't let me keep you, Sarah, she said, looking up as she realized that the others were gone. I hope you will all forgive me for making your meeting a failure, but I was so very wretched I couldn't help it. You don't know the misery that I have lived through ever since that awful night at your house when I found that I didn't know how to pray. I don't think I have seen a happy moment since. But I haven't meant to be a hypocrite, indeed I haven't. I thought I meant it. You are not a hypocrite, Sarah said, her tones almost those of indignation, as if her teacher had received a slight. Do you think a hypocrite could have showed me the way to Jesus? Oh, Miss Parkhurst, doesn't that comfort you that you saved one soul for Christ? I think I could live a lifetime for that. Sarah, said Miss Parkhurst, one of those determined looks settling on her face, which those who knew her well recognized as a token that something was settled, let us kneel down here again and you pray for me. I will have this question settled. I will not live in this way another hour. I don't know whether I was ever a Christian in my life or not, but I mean to be. I mean to begin this minute. Now show me the way. Pray for me just as you did for yourself when you were in that horror that you told about. I am sure I have been in horror a long time if anyone ever was. It was almost an hour after that that teacher and pupil left the back parlor and walked down the hall together. Those who knew Miss Parkhurst best could hardly at the first glance have recognized her face. It was a glow with a new feeling. Thank you, she said, pressing Sarah's hand. Thank you more than words can tell. I know now what you meant when you expressed thanks to me when you thought I had helped you. You did help me, Sarah said, as decidedly as before. You gave me help that I shall never forget here or in heaven. That is just it. You have given me just that kind of help tonight. It is not to be forgotten. Goodbye, I shall see you tomorrow. I shall be a different teacher from what you have ever had in me before. Do you imagine that Satan ever did a more grievous piece of work for himself than when he took the ordering of that prayer meeting into his own hands? There was work done that evening that shall tell against him in far-reaching influences throughout all eternity. CHAPTER XVI. THE RESULT OF THE WORK I do not know that I can tell you much about that Sunday morning, what it was to Miss Parkhurst I mean. You have heard people in prayer meeting tell about how different the world looked after their conversion, have you not? Miss Parkhurst had heard such expressions a great many times, and she had not understood them. The whole force of their meaning burst upon her that morning. She was early in her seat and welcomed the girls with a glad smile. I haven't the least idea how to teach you, she said. I don't think it has been teaching at all that I have done. I propose that we all begin again. I don't want to leave you and I feel sure that you don't want to leave me. So let us all be scholars and all teachers. I'll study my lessons as hard as I can, and you do the same. Then whatever we get out of them we will each give to the others. Shall that be the way? It was a kind of teaching that was new enough to the girls, but it seemed, from its very newness, to please their fancy, and they gave themselves to the work in hand with an interest that drew the attention of the class next them, and quieted the restlessness of even Larry Bates. They did not adhere to the text of the lesson very closely. The teacher had not learned how to hinge the thoughts in her heart to the text before her, so she broke off suddenly. I want to talk to you about something, girls. What can we do now for each other? I want to do something for you and for Christ, and I don't in the least know how to go to work. Do any of you know something that we can do? It was an embarrassing way to talk, at least in embarrassed some of them. She acted precisely as if they were all Christians, and the obligation to work rested as much on one as another. Socilia and the Horton girls, who were generally foremost to express their views, maintained an embarrassed silence, and Hattie, the quietest of their number, had her word to say. There is one thing, Miss Parkhurst, that I have thought about a good deal. Miss Parkhurst turned eagerly. Tell us what it is, Hattie. Your eyes have been open while I have been asleep. Perhaps you are just the one to help us. No, it is you who are to help us. She said, with a naive laugh, you have not been to the prayer meeting very much this summer, have you? No, but I am going, Miss Parkhurst said quickly. I have thought of that myself. Well, this is what I am thinking. Can't something be done to make them more interesting? You can't think how dull they are. I didn't notice it so much until Sarah began to come, and then when I wanted them to be interesting for her sake, I found that they were very stupid indeed. They are, chimed in Sarah. I thought, of course, I should enjoy a meeting just because it was a meeting, but I find there must be something to enjoy before we can enjoy it, even if it is in a church building. Miss Parkhurst looked perplexed. I know they are very dull, she said musingly. Once a friend, who is not a Christian, went with me, and when we came out, he said he thought an hour in state prison would be pleasanter than that. But I thought it was because he had no interest. But, now you speak of it, it really seems as if no one had much interest. Still, I am sure I don't know what we could do to better the matter except to go. That would be a help as far as it goes. Suppose we all make an engagement to meet each other at Thursday evening meeting, and let nothing interfere with that promise except such a reason as would interfere with a music lesson say if we were taking lessons. This was certainly putting the standard rather low religion on a level with music lessons. And yet it was very high compared with the way in which it is generally looked upon, and Miss Parkhurst was so accustomed to the general way of looking at such things that it seemed to her a step in advance. She noticed that Sarah still looked grave. Wouldn't that be a good way to do? She asked, addressing them all and looking at Sarah. Excellent so far as it goes, Sarah said with a little laugh. But what troubles me is how can we make it helpful to us and to others when we get there? If we had better singing I think it would be a help. So it would, Miss Parkhurst said with brightening eyes. I begin to see light. Fanny, your voice and maze would be a real miracle in that meeting. You will both go and both sing, won't you? May laugh a little. Why, Miss Parkhurst, she said, Fanny and I are not Christians. We actually never went to prayer meeting in our lives. What would the people think of us to see us come in? As to that, Miss Parkhurst said she did not think it would seem any more strange to see them there than it would to see many church members herself among the number. She was ashamed and frightened the other evening to think that she had been so seldom. The end of all the talk was that, with many excuses and some laughter, the entire class engaged to meet each other at the next Thursday evening meeting. In the meantime, Miss Parkhurst said, I mean to think of this matter and see if there is anything more that we can do. If any of you get some light in the matter, I wish you would let me know. With this thought in mind she went directly to Mr. Hammond at the close of the session and said abruptly, I wonder if you can help us. And then she told the subject of their thoughts. At the Salem Street Church the ladies have a word to say in the social prayer meetings equally with the gentlemen. Mr. Hammond said, and in his voice there was a respectful ring such as he had never given to her before. There was a change in Miss Parkhurst's line of action. It commanded the respect of a working Christian. As for the lady, she stood looking up at him in a dazed sort of way. It was not possible that the reference to the Salem Street Church could have anything to do with them, and yet he waited for her to answer. You do not mean, she said at last, and there was a little catching of her breath as if the idea actually alarmed her. You do not mean that we could do that. Why not? Why, because it is not done in our church. In our church the meetings for prayer are not well attended, should we therefore not go? But it is not quite the thing, is it? Why not? Isn't it out of place? Why? Miss Parkhurst laughed. You have a very queer way of asking questions, Mr. Hammond, but it has always been considered so, now hasn't it? Not by me. Do you really like to hear ladies take part in meetings? May I ask you another question before I answer yours? When I attend the sewing society and meet 50 ladies and gentlemen, do you suppose I like to hear Mrs. Banks tell of her proposed trip to Europe and the route she designs taking? Why, I dare say you do. At least I enjoy hearing her, for it is just the journey that I want to take and mean to if I ever get a chance, and anything concerning it always interests me. You have touched the exact point. Now I have a desire to go to heaven, and I mean to go there, and anything set on the subject as to difficulties to be avoided or dangers to be shunned, I am anxious to hear about. Anything that you can say concerning that journey will deeply interest me. Now you know our society meets in the chapel, and so does our prayer meeting. The only difference being that we rarely have the good fortune to number at our prayer meeting, as many as gather at the societies. The question with me is, why should not Mrs. Banks tell us of a word connected with the other journey in which we are all supposed to be interested, as well as of that journey to Europe? What makes people feel so differently about the two things? I am sure I do not know. The force of education and habit, perhaps. But how came people to be so educated? It seems as if such a universal habit must have a foundation. How came it to be so easy to get a large company of Christians together, to enjoy our society rehearsals, and so few to our prayer meetings? Must not so universal a custom as that have its foundation in right? Then Miss Parkhurst laughed again. You keep getting me in tight places, she said pleasantly. These are all new thoughts to me. But it does look queerly, as though something somewhere was wrong. I want to tell you, Mr. Hammond, that I am thoroughly in earnest. I don't know whether I ever was before or not. I have stopped trying to find out. But I know I am now, and just as fast as I can find out what there is to do, I mean to try to do it. It almost takes my breath away to think of taking part in meeting. I have always had very fixed ideas about these things. At least I thought I had. But I mean to look at them, and if they really have no foundation, why, they can't be leaned upon, that is all. I have ever so much work to undo. I wish you would help me, Mr. Hammond, whenever you can. These girls actually lean on me, and I have led them in very queer ways. I shall have to work hard and at a great disadvantage, so I need all the help I can get. She went away and left Mr. Hammond grave and thoughtful. The subject of his thought was this. She has just roused to a sense of the importance of living. How heartily she is going to work! I profess to have had an idea of its solemnity and responsibility these many years. Do I work with the will that she is bringing even now? Ms. Parkhurst, as she went down Chestnut Street, said, Oh, my patience! It was her favorite exclamation, and she had not yet broken herself of its use. I wonder if it is possible that it can be my duty to do that. I never could do it in the world, and yet I am not naturally timid. They say I make an unusually good secretary for the society because my voice does not tremble when I read the reports. I wonder what makes me feel so about the other thing. I mean to think about it. What a world of things there are to think about, and I have never done any of it before. But I am willing to think, now that the horrible feeling that has been nying for months has gone. I wonder what George will say. And there came a little twinge of doubt and pain. So the leaven of Satan's precious interference was working. Little he wot of what he wrought by one hour's interference. Neither did the first fruits end here. Naturally, Mr. Wells Horton inquired as to the result of the wager. He was not at home in the morning. Satan arranged that, too, by taking him to the theatre the evening before, and thence home with a friend, so he did not meet the girls until after the added influence of the Sunday school was upon them. Then he was astonished and puzzled at the answer. You may keep the gloves, Fanny said, and there was either irritation or decision in her voice, and he didn't know which. We had a good meeting. I never liked and respected Miss Parker's so much in my life. You may know I did, for I promised to go to the Thursday evening prayer meeting this week, just because she wanted us to, and so has May. So it isn't likely you will get an account of the meeting from us. The millennium or something must be coming, Wells said, but he sent up the box of gloves and thought about the matter several times that day. She has gone to work for our own meeting, Mr. Hammond said on his way home. That is a good hint, certainly. If the girls help sing, there will be more interest than usual. I wonder if the girls will be able to help us. If the girls help sing, there will be more interest than usual. I wonder if I can get my boys to go. I shall try, at least. I mean to get Lewis to unite with me in making this whole matter a subject of special prayer. The three men and five women who always went to Harvard Place prayer meeting were all in their places, and it was just time to open the meeting, when the opening door admitted half a dozen more of the occasional comers, that class who go to the weekly prayer meeting when it is pleasant, when it is not too warm, when they have no other and more important engagement, such as a concert or an evening party, or it may be a chance collar. Miss Parkers did not even belong to this class, in that her engagements and detentions were the constant rule and her comings the exception. Nevertheless, after the half-dozen or so came she. A small feeling of surprise seemed to pass through the mind of every lady present. They had thought the evening too pleasant for her. But the very next opening of the door revealed to their astonished eyes a wonder. There were Fanny and May Horton and their brother Wells. Could anything be more amazing than that? Those three who had never been known to be in a prayer meeting in their lives, at least on a weekday evening, to appear at once was almost too much for the curiosity of the constant attendance. They knew nothing about the promise you know of the Sunday before, so they could only stare and wonder. This was the way that Wells happened to be of the number. Girls, he said, meeting them as they went shyly out the back piazza, feeling some way very foolish over their promise. Girls, what will you take to let me go with you this evening? They both stopped and looked at him. You, Fanny said at last, in utter amaze, then she recovered herself. Now, Wells Horton, you aren't going to do any such thing. A married man like you ought to be above such baby lowness as disturbing a prayer meeting. I shall have nothing to do with it, and you needn't think it. Wells laughed. What a little fire-rocket you are, Fanny, he said good humoredly. I haven't the least idea of disturbing the meeting. Why should I take that trouble? Besides, I have too much respect for Mother. I'll tell you the solitary motive I have. It is curiosity. Something happened downtown today that made me curious, and I want to investigate. The prayer meeting is the best place I can think of to help me in it. And if I go with you, it will only look as though I went to take care of you, as I am in duty bound to do, so where's the harm? Edda isn't at home, you know, and a fellow must do something. What happened to arouse your curiosity to such a degree? May asked him, but he shook his head. That would be a breach of confidence, he said. But as it had to do with Tracy and Cora Parkhurst, I don't mind telling you that. Well, come on, May said. We shall be late and create more of a sensation than is necessary. It is no very wonderful thing, anyway. People have been even to such strange places as prayer meetings before and kept their identity. By the time Miss Parkhurst's entire class had gathered about her, the surprise had grown and spread over every phase. That Mr. Hammond should presently enter with his train of boys was surprising, too. But it was not overpowering. He had accomplished that feat before, not many times it is true, and every one there knew that they came because Mr. Hammond wanted them to, and for no other earthly reason. Still, it was not something utterly new. But when the door opened for the last time, opened with a creak and closed with a bang as if someone who came had decided in haste and wanted it over with, and when that someone who walked with resolute step to the very second seat from the desk and looked about him with an almost defiant air, proved to be Mr. Tracy himself, then the surprise and excitement almost overflowed into audible sounds. During these comings Mr. Gordon had been reading a chapter in the Bible, reading it with blurred eyes and a somewhat choked voice. He was very glad to see his son there, but a father may perhaps be pardoned for having a little sore, bewildered feeling at his heart when he realizes how little influence his wishes have over a son and what a powerful influence some other mind exerts over him. But Mr. Gordon did not fail to remember and be thankful, then and there, that the man who was exerting the influence was Mr. Hammond, and that the influence was what it was. The chapter was concluded, and the usual long drawn out prayer followed, made always by the same old man who talked too low to be heard. Then Mr. Gordon gave out a hymn. Now the singing that they had at the Harvard Street Prayer Meeting was something to be remembered. It so happened that not a single constant attendant was a singer. Mr. Hammond sang a heavy bass, but he could better have preached a sermon than started a tune, so the leading fell to the lot of the old gentleman aforesaid. Not a lot that he coveted by any means, but a position that the good old man, with his cracked and trembling voice, accepted as a cross. So they generally quavered through China or Balerma or Ortonville as best they could, and they were sure to be keyed either too high or too low. As Mr. Baker with unusual hesitation fumbled through his book for a tune, and finally alighted on Martin, it suddenly occurred to Miss Parkhurst that it was a very strange thing that she, with her voice, had thought that her soul work or duty, on the rare occasions that she had been at prayer meeting, was to keep from laughter over Mr. Baker's music. In his unusual perturbation he did worse than ever, and the first line of Martin was wailed out in Sohaya Key that before the second part of the tune was reached it ended in ominous silence. Miss Parkhurst leaned forward with a beseeching not-it-fanny Horton. Now the entire Horton family were musical geniuses, so fond of music that they seemed to have to sing whenever there was opportunity. But this was an entirely new place for their voices to be heard, and whether they could respond to the occasion was much to be doubted. Neither she nor his sisters were prepared for the splendid voice which suddenly took up old Martin. In fact it may be questioned whether Mr. Wells Horton was not surprised at himself. But how grandly that hymn rolled through the astonished aisles! Fanny and May Horton took it up with a will, so also did Miss Parkhurst, and the boys in Mr. Hammond's set, after one or two comical glances around the room, gave themselves up to the enjoyment of the occasion and sang, too. What an inspiration that hymn was! It seemed to wake everybody up. There was a thrill in Mr. Gordon's voice, as he commented on one of the verses in the chapter read that sounded as though he had been encouraged. But the singing is not the entire life of a prayer meeting. There came very early in the evening one of those long and to anxious hearts fearful pauses that are given to overtaking a meeting where the burden of the work rests on the minister, and which are found nowhere else on earth save in a social prayer meeting. I wish I could explain to you the tumult in which Miss Parkhurst had been since Sabbath. It was not like that other tumult in which heart and soul and brain world together, and life was miserable. This time high up and grand the soul rested in the consciousness of an awakened and assured love and trust, and a feeling that whatever was right for her to do, she meant to do. Still it was nervous work, this thinking. Mr. Hammond had such queer ideas. Why, as far back as the oldest of them could remember, the women of Harvard Place Church had obeyed the Pauline injunction and kept silent. Unless, indeed, one accepted the society meetings and the meetings for the discussion of picnics or no picnics and other objects of that nature. Meetings held, to be sure, in this same chapel under such circumstances how the ladies had talked. But that was different, to be sure, and yet Miss Parkhurst's awakened and honest conscience tried in vain to explain to her just the point of difference. It is different, though, she said stoutly. Of course it is. Mr. Hammond may say what he likes. It is the business of the gentleman to take the time in a social prayer meeting. They have always done it, and they know how, and that is more than I do. What in the world could I say that would be worth listening to? Of course I have something to say at the society meetings, for I am the secretary, and know all about the work and the business. This she told herself in the quiet of her own room at home, and almost settled the question, though with that half-conscious undertone of possibility that the honest doubter always leaves, that if she should be shown that her position was wrong she would think it over again. It is nearly sure to be those who are determined not to be convinced who are entirely positive on questions like these. Now she was in the prayer meeting, and the gentleman who should occupy the time were not doing it. The few representatives who always did their share had done it, and she was not even here willing to admit that it would be the edifying thing in the world that they should do it over again or take up more of the time. Yet here they were sitting and staring at the floor and the ceiling, the minister nervously opening and shutting his hymn-book and saying at stated intervals, I hope you will not let the time run to waste, brethren. Mr. Tracey sat where she could get a side view of his face, and there was a sarcastic smile, almost a sneer spreading over it, and the brethren sat in solemn silence. There were a few present members of the church who had not taken part, but they rarely did. Doubtless they thought that they could not speak to edification, that it would be altogether more profitable to spend the time that they would occupy in staring at the floor. Why can't Mr. Hammond say anything? Ms. Parkhurst said to herself, in a heat, and almost in vexation. Yet what would she have him say? With the first invitation of the pastor, will some brother lead him prayer? He had responded promptly in a short, fervent prayer, and his friend and co-worker, Mr. Lewis, had followed. Then when the invitation was given to speak a word, he had spoken just his word, simply, quietly, without rising from his seat, as he might have spoken in her parlor. She knew exactly what he said. Ye are my witnesses, sayeth the Lord. I witness tonight that he is faithful who promised. I have had a proof of his faithfulness today. Just this sentence spoken in so natural a tone that Ms. Parkhurst could almost imagine herself forgetting that it was a meeting in the church, and asking him to tell them about his proof exactly as she would have done had he been speaking to her. She wondered why Mr. Gordon did not do it, and said that if she were a minister she would. And I want to say in passing that, in my opinion, if Mr. Gordon had done just that, they would have had a great deal better prayer meeting. Still they sat and looked, until the silence was becoming horrible to some and ludicrous to others. Mr. Gordon at last broke the awfulness by asking them to sing one more day's work for Jesus. This of itself was an invitation. He knew that the Hortons could sing it, and his heart yearned for something like naturalness and sweetness in the prayer meeting, though he did not understand how to bring it about. They sang it, only Ms. Parkhurst stopped suddenly after the line how sweet the work has been, and she knew by the dull thuds that her heart was giving that she had made up her mind. I haven't worked for him in the least today, she said, the instant the singing ceased. I don't think I've done one single thing to tell anyone about him, but I want to, and oh, I mean to, I mean to try. Did you ever sit in the oppressive stillness of an August evening feeling as if all sounds in earth and air had forever ceased, until you suddenly heard the quick, loud, majestic roll of thunder? And do you remember how you were startled? Certainly Ms. Parkhurst's voice was not like thunder, it was low and tremulous. But not peal on peal of thunder that would shake the church could have startled the harvard place people like that low voice. The very air seemed to rustle, and the stirrers left the floor and the ceiling and stared at the owner of that courageous voice. Mr. Hammond, as I have said, found it nearly impossible to lead a hymn, but impossible things can sometimes be done, and almost as soon as the voice stopped, he sang that solemn old hymn, now I resolve with all my heart and all my powers to serve the Lord. The spell was broken, Hattie Taylor, ashamed and confused, that her teacher, who had begged of them to help her, had been left to fight this great struggle alone, said suddenly, I am one of his children, I love him. Then instantly came Sarah Blake with her strong, untrembling voice. He found me when I was sick and miserable and afraid, and he gave me rest and peace, how I love him I can never tell, but I mean to try to show. Electric shocks, that is what they were like, quick, sharp and repeated. The old men leaned forward in their seats and drew their breath in hard. As for the minister, he wiped the large, slow tears that were falling down his cheek, and would have risen to speak, when there came a sudden and overwhelming surprise to them all. I have decided that I want this friend for my own, pray for me. Said in a low, clear, firm voice, that belonged to no one but Lester St. John, the most correct and polite and self-satisfied and hopeless young man in the city. So anyone who knew him would have said, and yet there was a sound in his voice that said, I mean it. Let us pray, said Mr. Hammond, and if you remember that this young man was in his Sabbath school class, and that he had been praying and working for him for over four years, you will know all about that prayer that words can tell. They went out very slowly from that meeting. The excitement was too intense for sound. Only Mr. Hammond grasped Miss Parkhurst's hand as she passed, with unusual meaning in the simple Good Night. But Mr. Tracy was right behind him, and drew the hand within his arm with an authoritative air, as indeed he had in one sense a right to do. And his first words were, before they had hardly passed out of the hearing of the others, Quora, have you taken leave of your senses, or what is the meaning of this remarkable scene? End of Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Now I take it that no lady enjoys being addressed in quite the tone that Mr. Tracy used to his companion that evening, even though she is engaged to marry him at some future day. She was a good deal startled. It was not his usual manner of address. She had expected a sort of good-natured ridicule, sarcasm that appeared courteous, if there is such a thing, and yet that had a sting in it. She was not prepared for the stern, excited, almost angry tone, and the contemptuous manner. It is a pity he had not known, if his motive was a desire to influence her in the future, that he had chosen quite the wrong way. She had come out from the meeting excited it is true, but at the same time somewhat shame-faced. She was already beginning to experience that reaction of feeling which questions whether, after all, one has not been doing a very foolish thing. She had by no means enjoyed the new duty so much that she was not half longing to be told that the idea of its being duty was utterly a mistake, and under the influence of this reaction was more than half ready to promise that she would not be so let away again, but not if she were asked in that tone. One thing she knew that whether it was a duty or not to do as she had done, it was that motive and that alone which prompted her. She might have been mistaken, she was willing and, as I said, almost anxious to think so, but such being her motive it was worthy of respect and kind treatment. She was hurt by his tone and words, and she was, by a method of reasoning not understood by herself, at once convinced that she had at least done nothing wrong, but she was not angry. Her religious experience had been too real and too recent to admit of such a feeling. Besides, amid all the tumult of self-questioning and excitement that the evening had brought forth, there had been the realization of a present, loving, listening saviour that had lifted her out of herself. She answered him gently, but more decidedly than she would have done had his words been different. Why, George, what a strange way to speak to me! I have surely done nothing so very wonderful! Something wonderfully foolish, he said, in increased annoyance, her quiet tone seeming to have the wrong effect. There is something strange about it, perhaps, but it is certainly true that human nature would almost rather be called wicked than foolish. Something of this feeling stirred in Miss Parkhurst's mind as she answered still in a kindly tone, but with the least touch of dignity. If that is the case, I have only to answer to myself for it. In that I should differ with you, he said quickly. I think you have someone else to answer to, one who is supposed to be interested in what you say and do, and who by no means approves of your doing conspicuous and absurd things. If they had been talking at cross purposes, they could not have gone on better than they did this evening. Miss Parkhurst hardly heard the last half of his sentence. The first of it stirred in her heart those new and inexpressibly sweet thoughts that she really was not her own, but had been bought with a price. I should not have said that. She answered him, and her voice was sweet and low. There is one to whom I am accountable. I realize it now as I never did before. And, George, I have wanted to have a little talk with you about it. I am glad that this has called it forth. Things are very different with me from what they were. Mr. Tracey had certainly lost his usual deferential manner. He interrupted her almost rudely. Cora, I beg that you will spare me all camp this evening. I am not in the mood for it, and it does not become you. I cannot imagine why you should take it up. I want to talk a little common sense. Is it a wager or a Filipina, or what in the canopy did influence you? There are things that are very hard to bear. In the first flush of her new trust and love, it was hard for Miss Parkhurst to hear the sharp, stinging words, especially hard to hear them from his lips. George, don't talk so. She said, and her tone was pleading. You don't know what you are saying. I don't wonder that you are surprised. Indeed, it isn't strange that you are a little hurt. It came so suddenly upon you. I certainly should have told you if I had known before what I was to do. But George, I couldn't help it. I saw it plainly to be my duty. Nothing was ever plainer to me. Nonsense! he said, growing more vexed every moment. Why will you insist in wasting that sort of talk on me? You ought to know that I am not the one to endure it. I understand very plainly what all this amounts to. It is just the influence of that fanatic fool Hammond. I have seen the working of it for some time, though you and he both acted as if you thought I was blind. I, for one, don't thank him for this meddling. It looks to me like anything but the Christian spirit that he is always canting about. Confound the fellow. I should shoot him for his insufferable impudence. Ms. Parkhurst was very rarely angry with any one. Her nature had, in that respect, been almost perfect. But that class of people, when they are roused, are generally very angry indeed. She withdrew her hand from Mr. Tracey's arm, and she had decidedly the advantage of him in that her voice was low-toned and her manner quiet. Mr. Tracey, no degree of intimacy warrants the use of sex. warrants the use of such language as you have compelled me to hear. I have endured hints of that sort from your lips before, without telling you what I thought, that they are unkind and ungentlemanly. But you have certainly gone too far, and I shall have to ask you to apologize before I can feel that you are the friend to me that you have professed to be. Mr. Tracey's anger was roused to a white heat. He seemed to neither know or care what he said. I will never apologize, he said, speaking louder than was wise, considering it was a public street, and there were many people passing. I will never apologize. I consider it as you who own apology to me. You have made yourself conspicuous in a very offensive way. And that, in view of your position, and your connection with me, and knowing my views, you had no right to do. Then they walked the length of half a block without speaking, when Miss Parkhurst broke the silence. Her voice had so changed that it frightened herself. Mr. Tracey, I am very sorry I have disgraced you. I had not the slightest intention of doing anything to offend or to hurt your feelings. Indeed, I scarcely thought of you this evening at all. I believed, and I still believe, that there was another to please, whose claims come before yours or any human beings. I am unfortunate, it seems, in my attempts at explanation, as we seem to get farther apart every moment. Perhaps it will be well to think the matter over quietly without doing any more talking, and in order to relieve you from the necessity of saying anything further to me, as I am right at Uncle Harman's door, I will step in there, and cousin Lawrence can see me home. In less time than it takes me to tell it, Mr. Tracey found himself alone with his anger on a brightly lighted street, some distance from home. I want to make some excuse for this young man, if I can. He was not habitually rude and unfeeling. Indeed, his usual manner was the very reverse of this. He was almost amazed at himself, even in his blind anger, which prevented his reasoning clearly as to what had happened. He was not a passionate man, either, and perhaps the anger had him at a greater disadvantage for the moment even on this account. You have doubtless discovered long ago what Miss Parkhurst ought to have realized before she engaged herself to him, that he had very little sympathy with Christianity in any form. At the same time it had heretofore had very little to do with his life. It had not run a thwart a single plan of his until very lately, although he had all his life associated with so-called Christian people. And I hardly think he was to blame, for his often expressed opinion, that there was too little difference between the church and the world to distinguish with the naked eye which specimen was before you. His lack of sympathy had hitherto exhausted itself in good-natured railery, and so been comparatively harmless. But it so happened that he held very positive views as to woman's fear, woman's duties, and the like. He was entirely willing to grant a lady, even an intimate friend of his, the privilege of dancing all the evening with whomsoever she chose, and that meant to whoever she chanced to have a passing introduction. But he had stoutly declared that no lady friend of his could so forget her position and what was due to society, as to appear before the public and make a speech in a promiscuous assembly. He meant, of course, a prayer meeting, for he had no sort of objection to quite public remarks in the aforesaid dancing party. He had been so unwise or so unfortunate as to get into a discussion of this sort on the very day of which I write, the question having been called up by the quotation of some remark made by Mr. Hammond. So Mr. Tracey, in addition to his natural aversion to such exhibitions, had the added inducement of differing emphatically from Mr. Hammond's views, a duty which was an absolute pleasure to him in which he never neglected. Do him the justice to understand that the idea of his promised wife being brought into conflict with him on this point was a thought which never for one moment occurred to him. One of the disputants proved to be Mr. Wells Horton, and that gentleman, having gleaned from various sources that strange transformations were going on in Miss Parkhurst's class, kept his own counsel as to names, but volunteered the opinion that he, Mr. Tracey, would have the pleasure of listening to the voices of some of his lady friends that very evening if he would go to the Harvard Place Church. Mr. Tracey ran over rapidly in his mind his list of lady friends who were in the habit of frequenting Harvard Place prayer meeting. They were few, and it did not take him long, and so assured was he of their oneness of feeling that Miss Parkhurst's name did not even occur to him in this connection. Why should it? He had heard her express herself much more strongly than he had ever done. So indifferent was he to the ladies whom he decided composed his list of acquaintances in that direction, that he laughingly proposed to Wells to go to the meeting in his company, and even proposed to Wager that not a lady who had ever received any attentions from him would open her lips. Perhaps you can imagine his sensations when the first lady's voice to break the silence was that of his promised wife. It may be that this explanation will in a measure excuse his language and manner when in the full heat of his wounded pride and rage he came in contact with Miss Parkhurst. You must constantly remember that he understood no more of the strong forces at work in her heart that produced these results than a machine does. There was only one explanation that suggested itself in his mind, and that was that it was all the work of his enemy, Mr. Hammond. This you will readily understand was the aggravating bitter that helped to carry his passion beyond control. I wish I might but faintly tell you of his sensation when he found himself thus suddenly left alone on the street. He walked on rapidly in his blind rage for several minutes before he realized that every step took him farther from home and nearer to Miss Parkhurst's door, where he was liable to be questioned as to what had become of that young lady. He wheeled suddenly and walked fast in the other direction for a moment until the fear of meeting certain of his acquaintances overcame him. What if I should meet that contemptible puppy of a Welles Horton? He said to himself and failed to see the inconsistency of calling his hitherto intimate friend by such a name. Such friendship, by the way, must be very valuable. He suddenly turned down a back street which, by making several turns and crossings, would intersect with Forrest Street and so get him home. CHAPTER XIX You are not to suppose that Miss Parkhurst's state of mind as she went through the hall to where Uncle's sitting room door was enviable. Indeed you would have pitied her, surprise and indignation, and sorrow all struggling for the mastery. Besides which, she let that troublesome question come in that is nearly certain to intrude even on heavy anxiety and sorrow. What will they think of me for coming this evening and alone? Not daring to give herself time to think much about it, she pushed open the door and entered the brightly lighted sitting room, wishing with all her heart that the supply of gas would be suddenly and utterly exhausted. Well, her Uncle said, sitting erect and looking his surprise, where in the world did you come from at this hour, and where is Tracy? Could two more unanswerable questions be invented? They made the blood mount higher on Miss Parkhurst's face, and she stood still, not knowing what to do next. Her aunt was engaged with a lady at the farther end of the room, some private business matter apparently, for she did not come forward. Larry wasn't there at all, and the gentleman who was talking earnestly with her Uncle when she appeared was Mr. Hammond. Now what was she to do? Quickest thought there flashed over her the peculiarities of her position, the necessity for making some explanation, the necessity of securing company home, and the impossibility of telling anything that would not reveal the trouble she was in. Above all came the thought, what would George say if he could see her there? She questioned whether in his then state of mind he would not have accused her of having contrived this meeting with Mr. Hammond. It took but an instant for all these confused thoughts to rush through her brain. The next Mr. Hammond had risen and advanced toward her. Good evening again, he said. Lawrence and I have reached here before you, you see. Where is Lawrence? She asked, catching suddenly at the name that was to have helped her. He went directly to his room. He is suffering from a sudden attack of headache. I hope, sir, it will prove to be nothing but a headache. This last being addressed to the father. At this last drop of trouble added to her exciting evening, Miss Parkhurst lost all vestige of self-control and said in a quick, nervous voice in which there was a sound of tears, What in the world shall I do? I don't know how I am to get home. How is that? said the uncle, leaning forward suddenly. Get home? Why, where is Tracy? Won't he be in for you? Mr. Bates, said Mr. Hammond, as if a sudden thought had come to him and as if Miss Parkhurst and her affairs were not of the slightest consequence. Can you step into the office before ten in the morning? The sooner that business is attended to, the better it will be, perhaps. Then, rising, he turned to Miss Parkhurst. If you are going home soon, may I walk down with you? Sure enough, said the uncle, coming out of his chair and standing before her. He goes right by your house. What did you say had become of Tracy? Good evening, then, Mr. Hammond said, moving toward the door, for Miss Parkhurst had risen the moment he addressed her, as if it would be a relief to her to get away from those stupid questions, even though she went with him. And yet, she took in, in all its bearings, the embarrassments of a walk with Mr. Hammond. What if they should meet George? Or the boys to laugh over it and tease him with it the next morning? Besides, what should she say to him, to Mr. Hammond himself? How should she explain the strangeness of her position? This last need not have troubled her. Mr. Hammond talked just as usual, except, perhaps, that he required only monosyllables from her in answer. He seemed not embarrassed nor disturbed in any way. In fact, he acted precisely as though he was not aware of anything embarrassing in the circumstances. They had reached the very steps of her house, and she, meeting not a person that she knew, and given time to think, had grown more quiet, when he said, Miss Parkhurst, I do not know whether to speak or be silent. Perhaps it would be better to say nothing. And yet, of course, I know that you are in some discomfort. Perhaps it may not be improper for me to say that I think you have done a work for the cause of the Master this evening that will not stop here, and I believe whatever annoyance or trial may grow out of it to you, God will cause to work for good. She turned toward him, eyes that were brimming with tears, and said, I thank you. I feel that I do need a kind word. I am in trouble, and yet I am sure I have done right. That is, I know I have in some things, but I think I may have been undoing some of it since. If any lack wisdom let him ask of God, he said earnestly, he did not want to press her confidence, nor lead her to tell in the first flush of her excitement what she would regret when she had grown more quiet. He went away at once, and Miss Parkhurst hurried to her room, thankful that her mother had grown weary of waiting for her. That little touch of sympathy had done her good. The tears in her eyes had softened her heart. She began to realize that she might have been at fault. It was cruel, certainly, to leave a gentleman on the street in the unceremonious way that she had done. What were people to suppose who met him? It was placing him in a very unpleasant position. Hardly anything could justify it. He really has a right to be angry, she said, and for the time she forgot all the hard things he had said to her and lost herself in pity over his side of the question. This thought grew upon her until presently she drew pencil and paper to her and began a little note in the old familiar way. Dear George, it was rude and unkind in me to leave you in the way I did. I do not wonder that you were vexed. I do not see what could have made me do it. Thus far, and then she paused to read it over. You see, she utterly ignored the fact that it was not the leaving him that had been the producing cause of the trouble between them. There came dimly to her now the memory of certain words of his, and so she wrote, I surprised and grieved you to-night. I do not wonder at that either. It was a very sudden thing for me to do. I ought to have warned you, but how could I, when I hadn't the least idea of such a thing myself? I wish I could explain to you how I felt and what it meant. That is what I should have tried to do instead of leaving you in a pet like a spoiled child that I am. Forgive me, please, and I will be good tomorrow when you come to see me. You see, I am taking it for granted that you are going to forgive me and come as usual, and I know you will, for you have endured too much naughtiness from me to punish me now. So I will write myself, as usual, your Korah. You would hardly believe how light her heart felt after this note was written and sealed. It seemed to her that the heavy trouble had all been smoothed over. She was not accustomed to careful and continued thought on any subject, you will remember. And now it actually began to seem to her that the great difficulty had been that she, growing tired of her company, had suddenly and rudely deserted him. The episode having come later in the evening had spread itself over the other. She drew a sigh of relief as she laid the note on the table, feeling only sorry that there was no possible way of getting it to the gentleman that night. Then she went to that blessed resort from all care and pain and trouble, and if Mr. Tracey could only have heard himself prayed for, it would surely have calmed his feelings. He was not having such a quiet closing to this stormy evening. He was in a perfect rage, and the more he thought about the whole affair, the more angry he grew. He sat up till midnight thinking it over. Not thinking either, the angry and disgusted fancies that floated through his brain, can be characterized by no such dignified name as that. Altogether he will be likely to remember that night, and for that matter the day that followed it. Notwithstanding the late hours of the night before, he awakened early, and as he went about his rooms continued his puzzled, troubled thought. He was decidedly calmer, a few hours of sleep, then the presence of staid and dignified sunlight do much toward quieting people. But he was still in a great bewilderment as to what was to come next. He realized now, as he had been too angry to do before, that the cause for anger was not all on one side. He remembered some of his words to Miss Parkhurst, and acknowledged to himself that they were not the words that ought to be spoken by a gentleman to a lady under any circumstances. He was somewhat at a loss what to do next. To be sure he had told her that she was the one who would have to apologize, but he began to feel that the apologies must at least be mutual. He grew almost as angry as before while he thought of this necessity. He was a gentleman who liked to be comfortable and good-natured, and generally was so. But then he by no means liked to have his will crossed. Had not one of Quora Parkhurst's charms been that she yielded so gracefully and sweetly to his stronger nature? Just a trifle too ready had her yielding been where other people were concerned. Yet he had generally managed that to his satisfaction until the coming in of this new acquaintance. The puppy! He said, in a great heat and rage, as he thought of the one to whom he chose to attribute all his discomfort. I will not have that at any rate. He said, compressing his lips, I shall tell her that. My words might have been better chosen, of course, but at the same time I totally and utterly object, and shall continue to do so to this new freak of hers. I shall not endure it again, and a miserable amount of silly nonsense will I have to bear because of it. And again he thought of that friend of his, Wells Horton, and the railery he would have to endure from him. He decided to make a hurried call on Miss Parkhurst before banking hours, for in his heart he felt a trifle worried lest she might not be in a forgiving mood. She had shown an unaccountable degree of obstinacy of late, and he was not inclined to endure a whole day of suspense, for you are to remember that, with all his faults and failings, and they were not few nor small, he had this title to respect. He had chosen the lady in question from all others because he loved her. I do not say that he did not love himself a trifle better than he did her. You know very well that there are natures who do not and cannot reach above themselves. This is especially apt to be the case with those who have never given themselves up, body and soul, to the worship of the one supreme lover who forgot himself so utterly as to leave heaven for us. Mr. Tracy knew nothing of this kind of loving, nor indeed of that higher type of human love that is akin to this. He simply thought more of Miss Parkhurst than he did of any one, except himself. But so long as he thought this was love, he is to be respected. He had his plan of operation arranged to his satisfaction when the boarding-house servant tapped at his door and produced a note that had been left by Timmy Hughes a moment before. Mr. Tracy took it eagerly. Timmy Hughes was Miss Parkhurst's favorite errand boy. Then he read the note which that lady had written as she thought this trouble all over the night before. He was a good deal touched with it. He had not expected so gentle and kindly a forgiveness. At the same time it was not good for him. He was too selfish in his nature to be benefited by such words. On the contrary he began to feel more than ever that he had been right and the lady wrong and that the extraordinary nature of the case had demanded the sharp words he spoke. He called them sharp now, not rude. He read it over the second time with long pauses between the sentences. By this time he had decided that he would not call before banking hours. He would simply write her a note. He would write it at once and drop it in the nearest lamppost as he passed downtown. That would be less embarrassing than a call. He spent very little time over his note and was much less excited over it than was Miss Parkhurst when she got it into her own hands. Her discomfort had increased with the morning, for as she thought it all over again and realized that Mr. Tracy must have been very angry indeed to say to her just what he did and that before she left him she took the precise course calculated to make an angry man more angry. Perhaps he was even so offended that he would refuse to read her gentle little note and she should receive it back unopened. She shivered over this possibility. Her heart was in this matter and she had by nature a larger heart than Mr. Tracy. So it was with an eager, nervous grasp that she took this letter from her young sister's hand. Her manner called forth this word of reproof from the sister. Don't devour it, Cora, before you get it opened. It is only from George and I am sure you have had a hundred such. I venture to say that it is nothing more formidable than a ride or a hop or something of that sort. I wish you two would get married. I should think you would get tired of each other waiting so long. After this logical idea she went away and left her sister to the privacy that she needed. This was the note. Dear Cora, my pen almost hesitates over that word for you certainly tried me to an alarming extent last night. However, I am glad to see that the repentant mood came upon you early. Yes, I forgive you, of course, but equally, of course, you will not put me to so hard a test again. I don't mean about leaving me alone in the street, that was certainly bad enough, but not so trying by far as the other part. I will say here all I wish to on that disagreeable subject and we need not allude to it again. I shall never want to hear of my promised wife so far forgetting what is due to herself and her position as to make a public talk. No matter how brief nor upon what subject. On this thing we must be agreed. I am willing to believe that you were carried away by an enthusiasm that you imagined to be born of religion. I do not understand these fancies, but, of course, you were sincere in them. The only point of importance is that they must not carry you captive again. I shall be in this evening, and by the way, there is a very good opera. I will come in time to take you to it, as ever, George. There were no tears in Ms. Parkhurst's eyes as she finished reading this remarkable note. Her face looked utterly unlike tears. Neither did she look offended. The hurt was too deep for that look. But there was that in her face that told she was beginning to understand what she might and ought to have known two years ago, that she was the promised wife of a man who had a deep, settled, and persistent antagonism to every development of Christian life, and that he meant to fight all such developments with an unfaltering will. She closed the note thoughtfully, and went about her work with a strangely bewildered feeling as to how to take the next step. But her tired heart was thankful for this one thing, that there was no question within her but that the next step must be taken.