 20 Very Much Improved The result of all his thinking was that Winter went to Dr. Decker for advice. Should he try to join the ivy reading-circle? And if so, how should he set about it? The doctor was puzzled, troubled. He gave very little thought to such matters for the reason that he had little time for anything outside his profession. But he saw difficulties in the way which had not occurred to Winter. Still, he promised to consider the subject, to see what could be done and report. The doing so involved him in more embarrassment than he had imagined. His daughter, Sate, exclaimed over the idea, They will never admit him in the world. He is foolish to want to join them. Papa, they are very exclusive. You have no idea. They vote on each name, and one negative vote excludes a person. Within a few months they have excluded eighteen, some of them from among the best people in town. Imagine such a circle opening its doors to your office-boy. Upon my word, said the doctor, if I had been so unfortunate as to have them open for me, I should want them to open again as soon as possible and let me out. I don't believe in that sort of thing. I should not think it would be to Netty's taste. Nevertheless, since Winter wants a chance to read with them, I will not dishonor them by giving them no opportunity to be decent. It won't do any good, Papa. They will just be mortified because they cannot gratify you, and it will seem very queer to them that you think he could be received. Why, they refused Katie Lester last week, and she is a niece of Judge Watson, you know. What in the world has that to do with her qualifications for joining a reading circle? Asked her father somewhat testily, and Miss Sate, finding the question hard to answer, felt that her honoured father's education had certainly been defective in some directions, and held her peace. Your Aunt Netty would know how to manage such things, he said, after a thoughtful silence, during which he appeared to be looking straight ahead into space, but was in reality looking back, seeing a neat front room and delicately broiled fish and hot coffee, and hungry boys like Rick Walker and dozens of others, and his sister Netty wise beyond her generation managing it all, fishing for souls. He saw it plainly now. She knew just how to manage such things, a wistful tenderness in his voice. But I do not. The sentence ended with a sigh. It was something which I do not believe the doctor admitted even to himself, but the fact was he had chosen a wife who seemed not to know how to manage such things either. At least she did not manage them in his sister Netty's way. She was gentle and graceful, and eminently kind and courteous to all classes of society. She managed her home duties with infinite grace and tact, but when it came to questions like this one she seemed puzzled and troubled. The woman had not, for some reason, developed quite as her girlhood had promised. In answer to the doctor's suggestion that their daughter's sate should see what the ivy circle would think of the proposed new member, she replied that she did know, perhaps that would not be wise. Sally was not herself a member of the circle, and she might be thought to be presuming too much on her father's position, that the young man would hardly enjoy it, she should think, that young people of different grades in society were harder to harmonize than they used to be, that one couldn't make modes of thought over to suit oneself, and a young girl like their sate could not very well be aggressive, it would not be thought well of. The doctor, hurried, worried, thought again of his sister Netty, looked at his fair, cultured wife, smiled gratefully as he thought of all the beauty of her life and of what she had once done for him, told himself that people could not be all alike, and of course it would be very unfortunate if they were. Thought of his absent daughter, Netty, and wondered with a frown whether she really had these silly notions which the young people of today seemed to be adopting. He wished she were here, just to see whether the young Netty would have any of the skill of the Netty of his boyhood, and this made him think again of Winter Kelland. He of all persons ought to try to help the boy, but how? Judge McClintock would have done it when he was Jerry Mack, and Dr. Decker remembered with a faint smile that a boy whom he used to know, named Norm, had certainly had great success in winning boys. But they were very low-down boys, he told himself in perplexity. If this fellow smoked, or chewed tobacco or played cards, or drank beer, I should know how to set to work to help him, as it is. And then he left the table in haste in answer to an urgent call, the question still unsolved. And Mrs. Decker said to her daughter with a sigh that it was a pity Papa's few minutes of leisure with his family must be disturbed by weary some thoughts about making over society. She should think the boy Winter ought to be grateful for his present opportunities. Nevertheless Dr. Decker did not dismiss the subject. In the course of the busy day he came in contact with one of the young men whose names had been mentioned as prominent in the ivy reading circle. To him he abruptly presented the wishes of the new aspirant. He named the young man as his student, of whom he thought unusually well. And somewhat by the remarks of Miss Sate he understood the flush which rose on the young man's face, and his embarrassed attempts to be very deferential to the doctor, and yet have nothing to do with the young student of whom he thought well. Understood them enough not to be greatly surprised when, two hours later, a carefully worded note was brought him to the effect that the circle was very sorry, that it had resolved to receive no new members from any source whatever at present. It was just large enough for comfort, and, in short, no one, however desirable, would be received unless a vacancy should occur. At that particular moment the doctor was standing by the bedside of a young lady in high life who was suffering from an attack of nervous prostration. And with all the rest, said the worried mother, she has just joined a reading-circle as though she hadn't enough now to wear her out. Oh, well, Mama, the girl languidly explained, I was only voted in last night at ten o'clock, so I do not think that can have harmed me yet. What is that? asked the doctor, whose note had been handed him in company with several telegrams just as he was entering this house, and he had taken time to glance them over. So you belong to a reading-circle with all the rest. Is it the ivy-circle? Yes, sir, I don't expect to read much, but they coked me to join because they have such good times to gather. Nevertheless, the doctor told himself with a peculiar smile on his face as he entered his carriage, nevertheless I believe in reading-circles. He reported the state of the case as carefully as he could to his student that afternoon. They were driving rapidly through the city at the time, and the doctor could not see the flush which spread all over the young man's face reaching to his very temples. He did not understand, how should he, what the desire had become to the lonely fellow. His own boyhood had been hard, had been devoid of friendships, so he supposed. But nothing like the utter loneliness of the life which Winterkeland lived was known to him by experience. How should a boy, with a sister Nettie and a friend Jerry Mack, know anything of such friendlessness as Winterkeland's? He said almost nothing beyond the brief words of thanks for the doctor's kindness, and that hurried man told himself that the poor fellow was not much surprised or troubled. Only he had understood how it would be. Then he dismissed the matter from his thoughts. So did Winter, but before doing it he sat down alone in the little back room on Mrs. Tryan's third floor, the little spot in all the great world which was home, and went over his life as well as he could, from the county poor-house through Mrs. Josiah Griggs's kitchen and Mrs. Putnam's garden, up to this attic room. He took out from his vest pocket a little book two inches square, and looked at it tenderly. It was the memory of a kind, friendly voice. He took from one of the corners of his pocket-book a small piece of newspaper carefully folded. He spread it out and slowly read the words. There are valiant souls who, without family prestige, without incitement on the part of father or mother, seem early in life to take a wide view, feel the necessity, and say, by God's help with our own right hand and what brainpower we have we will attain what culture we can. He read it three times, although the words were almost as familiar to him as his own name. Then slowly folded and replaced it, as though it were a talisman. Then he folded his arms and thought, I shall do it. He said at last, aloud and slowly, For years I have meant to try toward it. Now I mean to accomplish if I live. With what brainpower I have I will attain. But I must do it alone. No reading circles for me. At least not until I can command broadcloth and perfumes and plenty of elegant leisure. And then I will have nothing to do with them. They are shams. I'll rise without their help, without any help. Fight my way up into power. He was quoting again from the bit of paper. He did not know how much those quoted words were helping him. He did not know how much the book two inches square had helped him. He thought, poor, foolish fellow, that he fought alone, whereas a network of circumstances had been surrounding him all his life and drawing him as steadily as he would allow himself to be drawn in the direction in which he fancied he had always wanted to go. But he is young, have patience with him. The time will come when he will understand himself and his happenings much better than now. From this time, however, he put away with firm hand all thoughts of belonging to a reading circle. I will be my own reading circle, he said with a grim smile, and he read and studied harder than ever. And the months went by on swift wings and many changes of the sort that are almost imperceptible because of their gradual character came to Winterkeland. Just when he ceased to help the hustler with his warning work among the horses he could not himself have told. He remembered that the occasions when he was needed in the office at that hour grew more and more frequent and that the doctor often said to him, Tomorrow morning I shall want you here at six, or, on Thursday morning you may go with me to the hospital. But there was never a day in which it was distinctly said to him, After this your work will not be about the stables anymore. Yet the fact was unquestioned that, saved to feed and pet his own pony, he and the stables had parted company. It was much the same about answering the bell. He had seldom opportunity for comforting the bell-boy now. Let Thomas remain this evening, I shall want you in the inner office. Was the message that grew more and more familiar to his ears? Until, without positive command or defined moment when it became his place. Winter now recognized that his place was within call of the doctor, to mark this paragraph or cut out that one, or copy such and such a reference, or carry a verbal message to a patient or a younger physician. You keep winter with you a great deal of the time now, don't you? questioned his observant wife, and the doctor had answered in a tone which would have made winter's heart throb with pleasure. The most satisfactory fellow I ever had about me. He knows where everything is without looking for it, and he knows just what I want without my asking for it. I don't know how I am ever to send him off to attend lectures. I can't spare him. Are you going to send him away? Why, of course, said the doctor, an astonished stare accompanying the words, didn't you know he was to be a physician? I didn't know, spoken meekly. Your office boys do not all go to medical college. Dr. Decker laughed. That is true. I never had an office boy nor a student like him. He was born for a doctor. It would be attempting of Providence not to help him. Not that he needs it, but I shall give it. He is very much improved, said Mrs. Decker. She meant as to his clothes and the arrangement of his hair and the management of his hands and feet. It was true he had improved in all these respects, imperceptibly in part, as regarded his own eyes. Much of the improvement had been the result of constantly seeing and hearing gentlemen in the doctor's office. Some of it, though of this he did not dream, and at that stage of his career would have scorned the idea. Still, it is true, some of it grew out of his daily association with the young men whom he met at Mrs. Tryon's table. They did not know much, but they knew how to wear their clothes, and indeed how to buy them and wear, and their hands and feet had ceased to trouble them, and insensibly winter cut many of their ways which were helpful. There came a time when he thought of this with humiliation. Certainly they had been in a degree helpful to him, but in what possible way had he been an advantage to them? The humiliation came when he realized that he might have been. One other little matter occurred which had its influence. The doctor's eldest daughter, Nettie, came home for her school vacation. She was not long at home, but she was of one of those who have not to stay long in a place to have their influence felt. She was interested always in her father's students or office boys or bell boys or whatever their position. She was interested in the coachman and stable boy, and had always made it apparent. It was therefore not strange that she showed immediate interest in winter. Papa, he is of another stamp than most of them, she said interrogatively. I wondered if you would discover it, said the father in great satisfaction. He is quite different. I haven't time to be as interested in him as I should like to be, but that does not matter. He does not need it. He will make his way alone, and so far as the young people of our city are concerned, he will have to. They do not discover any difference between him and other plotters. And then he told her of the little episode of the reading circle. What nonsense, said this energetic young woman of eighteen. I did not know our circle was so absurdly exclusive. I knew they did not want a very large company, because they thought it would be unwieldy. But I supposed they would be ready to hold out a helping hand. It is the very spirit of the organization to do so. It is the spirit of this branch of the organization to glorify itself. I fancy its unwritten prayer must be, I thank thee that I am not as other men. I wear fine broadcloth and fine leather and kid gloves on occasion and have a father who has a good bank account. The doctor was not often sarcastic. His daughter, Sate, glanced at him, with cheeks slightly flushed. But his daughter, Nettie, laughed merrily. I almost wonder that Sate did not interfere in this case, she said. Though you are not a member, are you? I wouldn't be pussy if that is the spirit to be exhibited. I am ashamed of them. I don't know, said the doctor's wife in slow, sweet tones. They are not so much to be blamed. But the most it was thoughtlessness. They did not realize that they could be helpful to the young man. It would be different now, perhaps. He is very much improved, Nettie, very different in appearance from what he was at the time he applied for membership. I presume they thought it was merely a passing whim on his part. They believed him to be your father's office boy simply, and could not know that he really meant work of a literary character. The doctor and his eldest daughter exchanged glances, and the doctor said, his voice very gentle, Nettie and I need the gentle mother to keep us sweet-spirited, and careful about hunting after moats or beams, which is it. CHAPTER XXI Mama always has the thoughtful other side in mind, Nettie said, her glance for her mother full of love, but she was not ready to leave the subject. Do you think they would feel differently now? Let us try them. I'll invite the circle to meet with me on Thursday and give them an entertainment in the way of cake and cream or something of that sort. May I, Mama? And we will have Winters help in entertaining them, and propose his name for membership at the close. The doctor laughed outright, I'm glad you have come home, daughter, he said, as he arose to leave them. We needed you, Sayed and I, didn't we, Pussy? She was true to her word, not only planned but performed, securing a most efficient helper in winter, he was ready to drive her to any point which she wished to reach, to hunt up every reference she needed for the literary portion of the scheme, to do in short her bidding in whatever direction it led. The doctor looked on, well pleased, and put himself to no small inconvenience to give winter all the time he needed, and only the mother, watching it carefully, said to Sayed, your father thinks that all this could have been done at any time, he does not realize what a difference a few months of his society and help make in a young man. I should not know winter, Kelland, for the boy who came to us. In all of which she was in a degree correct. That evening was one for winter to remember, he made his first appearance into what he then named society. He dressed with care, and was enough in the past to wonder curiously what Mrs. Josiah Griggs would have said, could she have seen him? When he came into the brightly lighted parlors, it was Nettie herself who turned to him with a smile, and, making a tour of the rooms with him, introduced our friend Mr. Kelland. They recognized him, of course. They had met him often in the streets since the day of the picnic. Some of them were inclined to stare a little, but for the most part they were well-bred young men and women, willing to follow a leader, especially since that leader was Dr. Decker's eldest daughter, the pride of their circle. Besides, this well-dressed, very well-appearing young man did not look in the least like the driver who had helped pack the lemonade-glasses so skillfully, and whom they had addressed as my good fellow. He really was a good deal at home, and was somewhat surprised with himself for the feeling. But he had been so constantly with Miss Nettie during the week of preparation, and she appealed to him so entirely as a matter of course now for help, whether it was with a curtain that she wished drawn or a paragraph in a book that she needed, that he dropped into his place as her acknowledged helper. And when, in the course of the evening, she called on him to read a class poem, he demonstrated to his own satisfaction that little Vine's opinion of his powers in that direction, given so long ago, were not utterly at fault. There were touches in the poem which he keenly felt as spoken to his own experience, and if he was not able to understand the faith in the final award by the great master, he was at least able to appreciate the poetry of the thought, and rendered it as though he felt it. If only to labor and wait in the lowliest tasks be thine, if faithful the master will say that work and the workmen are mine. To have heard his rendering you would not have imagined that he utterly ignored the claims of that master. On my word, said the young man who had lazily recited long fellow at the picnic, that individual is a reader. I would not mind having written a poem myself if he could read it. He's a diamond in disguise, isn't he? This gentleman was popular in the circle. In the course of the evening it began to be whispered through the rooms that the doctor's student was a brilliant fellow, destined to rise high, and had been discovered and was being polished by the doctor and his family. The circle expressed itself in undertone as more than willing to open its mystic doors to him. When at the proper moment Nettie went through the formula of proposing the new name, and the circle voted on it during the ten minutes that winter had been summoned to receive a message in the doctor's absence, there was not a dissenting vote. These eyes were bright when the secretary, with a hint that the occurrence was unusual and flattering, announced the result and proposed that the new member be formally welcomed. But then occurred a surprise. The new member was grateful for the honor proposed, had no doubt that the circle would be made an eminently useful factor in the hands of many. But for himself he would be obliged to decline membership. His time was already so fully occupied. His interests were so pressing that it would not be possible for him to assume anything more. There was a time not so very long ago when he should have been more grateful for admission to their circle than perhaps they could imagine. And here the young daughter Sate wondered whether he did or did not flash a half-reproachful glance at her. How was she to have helped it? But now, however much he might have desired it, membership was quite out of the question. They even condescended to urge him, but he was inexorable. Whatever they might say, however flattering their appeals might grow, of one thing he held himself sure, foolish fellow that he was, he would have nothing to do with their reading-circle. I was disappointed in him a little, Papa, said Nettie the next morning. I had an idea that he would be able to rise above such pettiness and take the help which we could really give him. Well, I don't know, said the doctor, laughing, half pleased, half vexed with his student. I must say that it was rather a natural feeling. Oh, yes, it was natural, but it was not noble. I rated him a little too high, that is all. And I wish, for Winter Kellan's sake, that he could have overheard those words. In due course of time Miss Nettie's vacation was over, and she returned to her eastern school. But something of what she had accomplished abided. Winter found that he had now abowing acquaintance with every member of the ivy-circle, and once or twice he was cordially invited to come around and take part in the exercises. But true to his determination to stand as much in his own light as possible, so far as this means of culture was concerned, he courteously declined. There was, however, a little excuse for his obstinacy. As the days passed he became increasingly busy. More and more the doctor claimed him, but the work given was almost sure to be in line with what he was studying, and of such a character as to be more helpful to him than anything else which he could have done. He dimly felt this at the time, but in after years, when the full light of the doctor's helpfulness dawned on him, there were circumstances connected with the memory which started a regretful tear that he had not understood sooner. Meantime there was steadily opening to him a new avenue to self-improvement. On the doctor's list there were constantly grave cases which required for a part, sometimes for the entire night, the watchful attendance of one who sufficiently understood the disease and the hopes and plans of the doctor, to watch intelligently and report promptly any change in the patient. One night there were two of these cases. The doctor, hesitating, doubtful whether to try to remain himself or to trust to the nurse, looked at his watch, looked at the patient, then glanced at Winter who had been assisting him and stood waiting. I believe I'll let you stay, he said suddenly. Drummond cannot leave Mr. Parsons tonight, and I ought to go home and get a few hours of rest. I believe you could do what needs to be done. I think I could, said Winter, as he tried to speak quietly to hide the quiver of eagerness in his voice, but the doctor noted it and smiled slightly. I'll try you, he said, and there followed careful directions. This was the first night of watching, but by no means the last. Sometimes it was but for a few hours, sometimes it was to remain in the house within call. There were occasions when, even though he particularly wished to stay, Winter was ordered to his room and bed. The doctor kept careful guard over the young student, whose enthusiasm could so readily have run away with his prudence. As the days went on, and Dr. Decker heard what Winter did not, he often thought it over with a satisfied smile. Can't that young student of yours spend the night here? inquired an anxious mother, whose boy was very sick. I'll send Drummond around, I think, was the answer. Then the mother. But I would much rather have Kelland if you think he would do as well. Fred likes him, likes to have him raise his head or do anything for him. He is so watchful and skillful and quiet. We all like him very much. He could sleep most of the night, only be ready if Fred needed him. And Kelland stayed. Suppose you let that young man who comes with you sometimes watch the case this afternoon, said a professional nurse on another occasion. He can do what is wanted quite as well as the other, and we like him better. His manner in a sick room is perfect. Could you lend Kelland to me? Asked a young physician, turning back after a half hour's talk with the great doctor about a case which troubled him. I shall feel less nervous if I have his help. He is very cool and quiet I have observed. I shall have to watch my student. Would Dr. Decker say to himself, they will wear out his body and spoil his nerves before their time if I am not careful. He is evidently popular, not only with the sick but what is rarer with the nurses. So that really, as you can plainly see, there was very little time for reading circles or anything but hard study and hard work generally in the line of his chosen profession. You think he is now fairly launched on the road to success and that I, who admit myself to be very fond of him, must be quite satisfied? I do not know that he was ever in greater danger than at the time of which I write, the danger of absorbing himself utterly and hopelessly in a busy, self-satisfied, successful life which was entirely for this world. He was daily growing satisfied, not indeed with his attainments but with the sense of certainty that he could attain and was steadily doing so. The feeling of loneliness and of need for companionship had largely passed from him. He was too busy for companionship or at least for society. As for acquaintances, as I told you he had several, they daily increased. Only a day passed that someone did not chance to introduce him to someone else who was quite worth knowing. The doctors who frequented the office had for some time nodded to him, calling him Kelland, and accepting him tacitly as one who was some day to be of their number. More than that, the younger ones began to seek his help, not only in the manner I have already mentioned but in other ways. They talked with him on occasion as though he were already one of them. Asked his opinion of this or that question in the belief that he might have heard words of wisdom fall from the lips of the oracle. Occasionally, one said to him confidentially, Find out what Dr. Decker thinks about this, can't you, in a casual way, and let me know? And in all these ways he was being drawn into their world. As for Mrs. Tryan's world it had grown in durable, even rather pleasant. The young men no longer felt doubtful about him. One of them had an uncle who had a brother who was a physician in a neighboring city, and who had called Dr. Decker in council. And it was confidently reported at the Tryan dinner table that Dr. Decker had said to this brother physician, in so many words, that young Kelland was, destined for a brilliant career. That made a vast difference in the feelings of the young men with the waxed mustache, and indeed in the feelings of most of them. They began to do more than nod to winter. They occasionally asked him how Mr. Jones or Mr. Smith was, and listened to his reply with a deference which showed that they realized the importance of information which came from him. Occasionally they asked about Dr. Decker's boy, Gerald, as to what his father's plans were for him, and in various ways intimated that they knew their fellow border had knowledge of circles which never touched their lives. With Mrs. Tryan the young man was friendly and patronizing. He kept himself somewhat posted as to her place in the book she was struggling through, and offered her bits of assistance which awakened her hearty gratitude. He brought Maria a good engraving of Bryant, of which Dr. Decker had given him several, thereby adding greatly to the weight of gratitude which the mother felt, and receiving hearty thanks from the wide awake, sensible, steadily advancing Maria. It was really all very pleasant. He had moved down one flight of stairs into a little hall bedroom which was unexpectedly vacated, and had fitted it up in a very cheery way and felt at home there, or would have felt so had there been any time to spend in it. At first he had planned it for his Sunday afternoons, but it was now so much a matter, of course, that he should spend them in the doctor's office within call, if any information was wanted more than a bell-boy could give, that he now went there directly from dinner. And his mornings, why, he still went to church when his duties at the doctors did not conflict, but whether the preacher spoke in the English or Greek tongue he could hardly have told. It was now his invariable custom to lose himself in a medical work even before the text was named, and to come out of his intense study only in time for the benediction. And the Christian doctor? Yes, he was a Christian, earnest to the heart's core. His highest hopes and strongest desires centered in Jesus of Nazareth, but at that time you couldn't have made Winterkeland believe it. He believed that Dr. Decker's highest hopes centered in his beloved profession. How do I explain it? Oh, well, you are constantly to remember that Dr. Decker was an overworked man, that he had almost no time which it was right for him to call his own, that when he rode or walked or sat with this young man some life was always trembling in the balance, and which way the scales would drop was depending, humanly speaking, upon himself. He was by no means silent about this greatest subject. He spoke of it as a matter of course. Though Lord isn't going to give me that little blossom, he has determined to take it to himself. This was the way in which he once announced to Winter the swiftly approaching death of a little child. In some such way he often spoke to him, as one who understood that he claimed to be only a servant of the great physician. And Winter called these expressions the result of old habits of thought. Had he honored the doctor less he would have called them can't. But really they passed for mere words, without soul in them. Not that he was an unbeliever in the Christian religion, he would not have called himself that. He was simply a neglector of it to such an alarming extent that he could not but imagine that there was by no means so much of it as sermons and prayers and Bible verses would at first sight make one think. It was eminently proper to have a Sabbath form of worship. He believed in church going and in public prayer. All these things were safeguards to lives not busy enough to be safe in themselves. When he was a doctor, eminent and crowded with care, as he now fully expected to be, he should attend church as Dr. Decker did, just as often as he could. It was a grand example for a busy man who did not need it himself to set for others. And he kept the little book two inches square in his pocket and locked Mrs. Putnam's Bible wrapped in tissue paper in his most treasured drawer and took credit to himself for his spirit of reverence and was altogether self-complacent and content. There had been times when a few wise words on this subject would have turned his life into another channel, but those times were past. CHAPTER XXII. The elder of the two occupied a low rocker, upholstered in pale blue and matching exquisitely with all the surroundings of the pretty room. An open book lay in her lap, the place kept by one hand, while with the other she toyed caressingly with the brown hair of the girl who curled in a graceful attitude at her feet before the open window, whose outlook was the lovely lake, up and down which many boats were flitting. A handsome wharf was also in view, and a brilliantly painted steamer, from whose red smokestack the glow of sunset was reflecting itself, was just coming into port, gay with music and alive with people. So you have been here from the very first, said the elder lady, musingly, and in the tone which denotes a continuation of a topic which has already been somewhat discussed. From before the first, laughed the girl, my earliest recollections are connected with walks through the woods to this point when it enjoyed uninterrupted solitude, genuine solitude, birds and squirrels held undisputed possession. Occasionally a fisherman's rowboat would reach as far out as this, but it was not often. Such a thing as a steamer making a landing here never entered even my dreams, and as for houses in these woods, and avenues and graveled walks, and hotels and temples, and people thronging everywhere, it would have made an exquisite fairytale had my imagination only been equal to such a strain. I cannot imagine solitude in connection with the place, said the elder lady, dreamily. You cannot imagine anything about it. No one can who comes to the place now for the first time. You should have seen it evolve itself out of chaos. I watched the first house go up, helped build it I may almost say. At least I suggested several things which the builder assured me were improvements, and I literally helped the first family move in. There was a baby with whom I played for hours to his and my great comfort. Thereby reaching home so late that my mother was frightened. Our home was fully two miles from here. Oh! Why, was it? I thought you always lived on the grounds. These were not always grounds. It was woods, I assure you, dense and silent. It was a great thing for this part of the country when a camp meeting association camped here for the first time. That was the beginning of revolution. But of course it suggested nothing of this. People thought for a long time that it was to be simply a camp meeting ground. There are some who seem to think so still. And is the place so very different from what it was at first? I mean at the first regular meeting of this new idea? Very different, with emphasis. Outside of the amphitheater we had a great tent, with stumps standing around here and there and vines straggling in and squirrels hopping about. The temple was another tent. Everything was intense, even the hotel. Not the Athenaeum, with a merry laugh, but a dining hall with oil cloth for table linen and boards stretched lengthwise for seats and two-tined steel forks and dishes to match. Really? said the elder lady incredulously. Really? Oh, we thought the accommodations royal. Such an improvement on the usual camp meeting management, I heard many say. Those were the times when people insisted on calling it a camp meeting. The auditorium was lovely in those days. The park, you know, where the great trees are and the fountain. It was filled with seats which reached a way back to the hill. On those first moonlighted nights when the seats were filled with people and the band played and the great choir sang, I caught my first idea of what heaven might possibly be like. The old auditorium will always have a charm for me beyond anything else. We have outgrown the spot, so that it will not do for a general gathering place, but I look to see it memorialized someday in a becoming manner. I'm sure I don't know how. No idea I have as yet heard suggested suits my memories of the place. And where was the museum? The museum was not. It had not yet been evolved. Neither had the lovely hall. Where it stands was a grove, a magnificent grove, the prettiest spot on the grounds. I thought so as a child, and I have not changed my opinion. I used to dream there. I spent a great deal of my childhood in that grove and had a hundred visions of what I would do and say there some day. I dreamed out many a flower-strewn path leading to it, and more than one golden gate of entrance, but they were not in the least like what has come to pass. It is a very great and beautiful thing which has come to pass, the elder lady said, speaking earnestly, every hour the scheme grows on me. I have been deeply interested in it since the first year of my visit here. That makes you open your eyes, dear. You have always taken it for granted that I was never here before, because I exclaim over things so much. But indeed the changes have been very great. No, it was not at the first. That was why I wanted your impression of the very first things, because to me the improvements are simply marvellous, and yet I can imagine that the changes must mean a great deal more to you who saw the first visible outlook of the idea. When were you here? Vine questioned eagerly. The year our wonderful circle was formed, which is reaching around the globe. I remember the day and hour, and you were here then. Why, Miss Forrest, you cannot think how strange that seems to me. Suppose you remember that I am simply at least to you. Do you think I can bring myself to say Miss Wilmeth? I think you will always be just vine to me, if I should meet you when you are a sweet old grandmother in gray hair and the whitest of caps. The girl laughed a sweet, pleased laugh. I like to say Elise. She said, It is such a beautiful name. But it seems almost rude sometimes. I am so glad you have been here before. I wonder if I saw you. I may have done so many times, and not have known that I was near you. And yet I don't believe it. Something would have told me. The first day when you stepped from the boat and I watched you inquiring your way, I said to myself, I love her. She is my friend. If I never speak to her in this world, I shall go up to her as soon as I see her in heaven, and say, You are my friend. You have been ever since that summer day when you came through the assembly gates in 1884. Do you remember? All this I planned to say to you, and I remember I said to myself, It may be the year 18,084 when I shall say it to her, because I may be thousands upon thousands of years in heaven before I meet her, but I shall say it. Miss Force laughed, a tender, appreciative laugh, as she said, What an imaginative little girl it is. I can imagine her creating a fairyland and peopling it with almost as many wonders as have grown up with her on this spot. Did you live in this house from the first? From the first, my father built it the winter after the opening meeting. He had a chance that season to do some work on the grounds, and was decently paid for it, for almost the first time in his life. And it made him resolve to come here and try to make a living. We were very poor in those days, Elise. And the house, why, you could not certainly imagine it to be the same now if you had seen it at first. Indeed, the frame is all that is the same. It was quite unfinished. Paper partitions over the rough beams for several years. And we kept borders, too. Imagine people furnishing their border's rooms with a little-looking glass ten inches square, a pine bedstead, a shelf covered with paper for a wash stand, and room for one wooden seated chair squeezed in at the foot of the bed, and only calico curtains to divide the next little room from this. Yet it was palatial in those days, and from the first people liked to come here. They liked my mother's table. We had only oilcloth for tablecloths, and napkins were quite beyond us. Yet the people who bordered with us one season came the next and brought their friends, and it came to pass that our house was crowded. I do not wonder at that in the least, said Miss Forrest sympathetically. But what a bower of beauty you have made of the house! I think it pretty, Vyne said, glancing about the room with innocent pride. Every article in the room, and indeed in the house, has a history. There was one troubled year when my father and mother held long councils together about the changes that prophesied ill to them. Father said houses were growing better here each season, better finished and furnished, and we could not hope another summer to get borders in an unfinished and unfurnished house, that he hoped to do a little toward the house during the winter, but to furnish was out of the question. I lay awake and cried that night, because I was such a useless girl and could not help them in any way. But the next day brought a revelation. There was a lady here giving lectures on decorative art. I went, because I happened to have an hour of leisure, and always went to everything I could. I didn't expect to get anything which could be utilized in our little unfurnished house, but the lady was just aglow with ideas. Furniture and curtains and decorations of exquisite sorts I found could be made of almost nothing. The next afternoon I coaxed mother to go, and to the next lecture father went. Those three lectures made a revolution in our home. Father is ingenious, and mother is—well, mother is everything. Father made the furniture. Those chair frames every one our home made. And mother and I decorated. A few yards of cambrick, and of ten-cent knottingham lace, and of unbleached muslin, and of cheesecloth, two or three papers of diamond dye, and a few choirs of butcher's paper. And what a change came over our home! The best of it was to see how it pleased and cheered father. Mother said we had put new life into him. We worked like bees all winter, and the first coming of summer guests repaid us. The summer before our rooms were all taken, but not until late when some of our old borders came back, and they came only in the height of the season. But this summer of which I'm telling you, people would take a peep into our blue and white and pink and white rooms, with their toilet draperies of knottingham, and their freezes of brown paper, and their portiers of cheesecloth, and say, How perfectly lovely! And engage the rooms on the instant. Mother used to say, half indignantly, that she might have given them sour bread and burned meats, and they would have been content so long as their rooms looked stylish and pretty. But that isn't so, of course. The pleasure would not have lasted if things had not matched. So, as I tell you, everything about our life has evolved from this idea. Barry's little farm had barely furnished him with enough in the past to keep his family from starving. We were so far, you know, from any good market. But the market came to us, and father, after a while, got the entire farm into working order to raise fruits and vegetables for the summer crowds. Then it began to pay. Our butter and our cows and our berries became quite the fashion. And you owe your education also to the idea. Do you not? Indeed I do. Of course, only a common school education would have been within my reach. And it was very common indeed, I assure you, in those days. But it is a good school now. That is one of the beauties of this whole scheme. It reaches out its long arms in all directions and plants seeds which spring up in blessings. That common school had to reform and become modern and advanced and all that sort of thing. It could not have lived at all if it had not. As for me, I was a sort of sponge, bent on absorbing everything within my reach. I joined the French class and afterward the German. Then the Latin teacher came here to call on a border, and told father I ought to begin Latin, and invited me to his class, and I was charmed and slipped in some way. And so it went on until I found myself taking up a full course of study in all directions. I've been a member of the correspondence class ever since its organization. You are a fair specimen of what the idea can accomplish when it has willing subjects, said Miss Forrest. A first-class boarding school education without spending a night away from home. The boarding school came to me, laughed vine. It has been great fun to sit at home and have the best come to my very doors to teach me. I, who thought warnfully that when I was through with arithmetic, there would be nobody to teach me algebra, and I should drop behind. Our common school was not sufficiently advanced for algebra in the days before the birth of this idea. Think of it! The question is, of whom were you afraid of dropping behind? Said Miss Forrest mirthfully. It was such a strange idea for a little girl to have who was on par with all about her. She chose a natural reaching out after higher attainments, a reaching out not born of anything outside of her growing mind. I don't know, said truthful vine, speaking slowly, a warm flush creeping over her face. I think it was outside of myself in a degree. I had a friend who had gone away from here, and of whom I believed great things. I expected to be proud of him some time, and for years there hovered about me a desire to be sufficiently his equal to be able to enjoy his society. Suppose I should meet him, in heaven, you know? Of course! Do you mean that you have never met him since you were a little girl? Oh, no! And I have never heard from him nor of him. He may be an ignoramus for all I know, but I don't believe it. At twelve he was too well started in another direction to make a good ignoramus. And his memory pushed you forward toward self-education. Really influences a solemn thing. But, vine dear, with your intense enthusiasm for everything connected with this idea, how is it that you never connected yourself with its reading circle? Are you waiting until your years of study are over before you take hold of it? That is a fairly good idea, unless you are willing to take the education slowly, spreading it over more years and supplementing it with the reading. That really would be the wise way, I believe. But with your intense nature I should have expected you to plunge into the circle hardened soul the very hour it had birth. I want to talk to you about that, Elise. Suppose we take a walk and watch the moon rise while I unburden my mind of its troubles. You do not mean to attend the lecture tonight, I think? No more lectures for this day, Miss Forrest said, shaking her head emphatically. The two o'clock one gave me mental food enough to grow on for years. CHAPTER 23 Having watched for some time the wonderful display of shimmering moonlight on the silver water, the two friends went, by way of the miniature, holy land, up the hill until they struck an avenue that led directly to the white-pillared hall. Here they seated themselves in full view of the platform and desk, which showed clearly in the moonlight. We are now a round table, said Miss Forrest merrily, and I will lead the exercises and ask your reason for not being a member of the circle. It may seem a silly reason to you. That is, the underlying one may. I thought it better, on the whole, to wait until I was more advanced in my regular education. But I might, as you suggest, have read the books by degrees in connection with my studies. I thought of it. The real reason why I have not done so is because the circle disappoints me. Miss Forrest regarded her with surprise. Treason, she said playfully, yet with an undertone of earnestness, where I should least look for it, in the heart of one who was not only evolved with the idea, but has been fed on its life and grown with its growth. It is true, Vines said, answering the laugh. I know you will think me silly or perhaps unreasonable, but the circle disappoints me. The last charge I should have expected from you. If you knew about it a great many things which I know, I don't believe it would. Perhaps not. Tell them to me. I don't want to be disappointed in anything which has to do with the scheme. I do not mean that it is all disappointment. I know of hundreds to whom it has been a blessing, and on occasion I can wax eloquent over its value. Is it the old charge of superficiality, my dear? I hope not. That is worn out, is it not? I flatter myself that I think a little too carefully to advance such ideas. Good! But what do you say to the objection? Of course, you have heard it. And we hear it still, from shallow people or ignorant ones. The world is not yet entirely wise. Oh, I hear it occasionally, though not very often. People who come to these grounds from year to year are not the ones who harp on it, you know. They are more likely to draw long breaths of fatigue and talk about exhaustion, exactly as though they expected the management expected to see them in bodily presence at each lecture, recitation, and normal drill. But the charge of being superficial has not troubled me much since I was driven when quite a young girl to Webster to see exactly what the word meant. I was at the pert stage, and I remember the intense satisfaction with which I said to a gentleman, do you really think there would be less probability of my wanting to know more of a subject, because I had gotten some ideas about it through the reading circle, than there would be if I remained profoundly ignorant of it? For my part I think introductions to great thoughts and to great men are sometimes stepping stones toward knowing them better. It is nothing of that sort which troubles me. I'm afraid it will be difficult for me to put my feelings into words. Did you ever have a friend who was so nearly what in all respects you thought she ought to be, as to have her faults vex you unutterably, make you feel as though you could not have it so, and at times as though you would have nothing more to do with her? Perhaps that illustrates as nearly as I can tell it my sensation toward the circle. I understand, but tell me in what way it disappoints. Thus I eat to have done and not to have left the other undone. Does that verse seem to you to apply to so many things in life? I have seen so many enthusiastic members of the circle, people who worked for it, with an energy which almost overwhelmed me. I know several young ladies who are always on the alert to get others interested. They plan and scheme, set many an ingenious little trap, and spend time and money lavishly to get a hold of just one more. And when he or she is caught they beam with delight, and straightway turn their energies upon another subject. Then they are all the time planning how to make the gatherings more attractive, more helpful, more brilliant in every way. In short it would not be possible to be in their company for two consecutive hours, I almost said minutes, without being made familiar with the workings of their hobby. And these young ladies are by no means isolated instances. They serve rather as illustrations. Enthusiastic effort to further the interests of the circle seemed to be characteristic of its members. Miss Force's face wore a puzzled look. I confess myself in bewilderment, she said, when Vine paused, and seemed waiting for her to speak. Is not energetic wise effort for the good of others a very high plain of living? May not a society which succeeds in infusing such a spirit into its members be justly proud of that very thing? Or do you mean that it is too much pushed, which has the effect of alienating some? Vine gave her head certain slow and expressive shakes, and looked troubled. It is not that. I told you it was hard to put it into words. I have no fault to find with the energy or the amount of effort expended to catch one poor little reader. Only, Elise, the trouble lies just here. These young ladies to whom I referred are Christians, both of them, pledged before the Church and the world to consider first the interests of the Church so far as it represents the cause of Christ. And I have been in their company for days together without hearing them mention either the Church or the Master whom they profess to serve, without planning for a single invitation to the prayer meeting or the Bible class, without mentioning the fact that they were interested in the salvation of any living soul. At the very time, too, when they were immensely interested in securing a young man, a skeptic, as a member of their local circle. I tell you, dear friend, that one-third of the energy expended in coaxing people in this work would enlist many in the army of Christ, and it isn't done. There is one woman in particular who has been a trial to me in this direction all summer. Perhaps I ought not to mention her, for there is not a direction to be mentioned in which she is not a trial to me. She has been the thorn in my flesh in many ways since my early childhood. I wonder if you have seen her. She is short and thick, and dresses always in the colors and style most unbecoming. I felt almost a sense of relief when she became a widow, because I thought that she would look less hideous in black clothes. But she does not approve of mourning costumes, so continues to wear a bright green dress and a bonnet trimmed with pale blue, and much red either in ribbons or flowers fluttering about her. Well, that is not to the point, but I felt bound to tell you how very silly I am so you can see just how much my criticism is worth. This woman, Griggs her name is, united with the church when I was a little girl, and since the first Sabbath has not set a word to me on the subject of religion, nor so far as I know to any other person. I was in her class in Sabbath school for nearly a year, but for the first six months she has fairly haunted me about this reading circle. I don't see, alvaini, how a girl who pretends to be as fond of her books as you are can let such a chance as this slip. When an old woman like me finds time to take hold of it and pour over their greek and latin books and I don't know what not, I should think you would jump at the chance. Suppose and you are studying, land sakes, I am working. Do more every day of my life than you would do in six. Yet I find time for reading their books. Where there's a will there's a way. If you would let your furblows alone you'd have time enough. Vine broke down in a merry laugh in which her companion joined heartily. The girl was the first to recover voice. Now, dear Elise, I don't think I am peaked with the woman's plainly expressed opinion. I do not respect her sufficiently to have her opinion way much with me, but she illustrates my point. I don't think she is a hypocrite. I have no right to judge her. Besides, she is like hundreds of others. But what troubles me is that she, ignorant woman as she is, has entered heart and soul into the circle and is trying to use what she calls her influence to extend it. Why does she feel that she is in honor bound to do so, and may yet be so silent about the one all-important theme? Why do the most of them think the same? One of our borders last summer entertained me for hours with the story of their efforts to organize a circle in their village. They advertised it and no one came. Do you imagine they gave it up? Not they. The three who had been here and were interested divided their list of acquaintances among them, and called from house to house carefully explaining the scheme, leaving circulars, stating amount of expenditure necessary for each year, dwelling on the advantages to be secured. Next, they issued personal invitations to a gathering in the home of one of them, had a charming little lawn tea and some literary exercises arranged with great care, with a view to illustrating the scope of the reading, and, in short, in all ways which ingenuity could devise, furthered the interest of the enterprise. Of course they were successful, people nearly always are when they work in that way. The lady who was so eloquent about it told me that one of her special satisfactions in it was that their pastor took such an interest in it. Now her pastor was here and called on a brother minister who was boarding with us, and in the course of their conversation they compared notes as to prayer meetings. The aforesaid pastor admitted sorrowfully that his were at a very low ab. Hardly any young people came, and but few gentlemen. He was almost discouraged with the field on that account. Was it possible for me to avoid questioning as to whether a tithe of the work given to the reading-circle would not have revived the prayer meeting? A little silence broken again by Vine. That by no means is an isolated instance. I hear so much about this thing, living in the heart of it as I do. I have been simply amazed over the amount of talent expended in working up these circles. The whole force of modern machinery has been employed to increase their interest. Pulpit and press have united to push them forward. I know of a circle where a regular correspondence has kept up between other circles who chance to be honored with very gifted members. One person is appointed to write a letter to this particular lady or gentleman in the name of the circle. The letter is read to the company before starting on its journey. In the course of time comes a reply, charmingly written, and it, of course, is publicly read. You can understand how it enhances the interest. Imagine the same idea in a modified form working into a prayer meeting. But whoever does it for a prayer meeting? How many women do you know who walk four miles of a dark evening with only a lantern and a dog for company to attend the weekly prayer meeting? Yet a woman of fifty who has been a member of the Church of Christ for forty years told me with great satisfaction that she had not missed a meeting of their class in two years, rain or snow, and had traveled the four miles to the village with the accompaniments of which I had described. That same woman sold a pet cow, which I fancy was needed in her home, to raise money enough to spend ten days here last summer. I could spend the night in giving you instance after instance which has come to my knowledge of remarkable talent and ingenuity and self-sacrifice expended in this cause. I have a strange feeling about it, a foolish feeling perhaps, but it humiliates me to think that professed Christians are giving themselves with such hardiness to intellectual efforts and being apathetic in regard to the great thing. Then along silence fell between them. The silver leaves whispered to one another in the moonlight, and now and then a mother bird uttered a soft warning twitter to her little ones, and from the distant amphitheater there floated strains of exquisite music. For the rest a hushed world. Fine, said the elder lady at last, laying her hand gently on the girl's folded ones, it is all true what you have said. I feel its seriousness. There are certain things to remember. Words are spoken often in the quiet of confidential moments. Words about this one great love stronger if we are truly the lords than any other love. Words are made for his kingdom about which you and I hear nothing, and shall know nothing until they are revealed at last. But when all these things are taken into consideration, it is true, as you say, that there is a great and alarming difference in our apparent zeal for the one interest as compared with the other. I have reason to know what you mean. There was once a boy, a very remarkable boy, who had had no advantages in his early youth, and had grown hopeless of accomplishing anything in the way of acquiring an education. It was given to me to rouse his courage and fairly start him on the road to what I believe will one day be honour if he is still living and working. But though I often thought of it, I did not see my way clear to interesting him in the great subject. One day I resolved to attempt it that very evening. But so far as he and I were concerned, there were no more evenings. Two hours after the resolve was taken, I received a telegram which sent me far away, and I never saw him again. I know nothing about him, poor fellow, whether he came in contact with some servant more faithful than I remains, among other solemn things, to be discovered at last. But the vivid recollection of my opportunity and my failure helps me to keenly feel the truth of what you have been saying. Nevertheless, fine dear, let me quote to you your own words. These I eat to have done and not to have left the other undone. Since your eyes are so wide open, can they not see what a door of opportunity this very reading circle opens to those who will enter? If all these methods of work could be turned to the glory of the master, why is not Vine Wilmeth using them to that end? If entire circles might be one for him, why not join their ranks with this single aim put first, all of our circle for Christ? Why not nail the class banner, where Bishop Simpson said he would the country's flag, just below the cross? Forgive me, dear, but I have had to do with so many young people that your talk seems to me very much on a level with those who stand outside the church, looking on at the professed followers, but refusing to join their ranks because they are so lame and halting and feeble in their efforts to do the work assigned. I have always counseled that such ought to come inside and show us how. It is not quite parallel, said Vine, with a blush and a half conscious laugh, because, in the church at least, people profess to be living to his glory, while this reading circle is at best a— but a soft hand was laid over her lips. No, little girl, I will not have you uncharitable. In the circle every honest Christian has at heart his glory first, though the way of working for it may be blundering indeed. Or not having as clear eyes as some, they may see but few, if any, ways of doing the work. It is for such as you to show us how. Join our class, Vine, and help us to use it in his name. CHAPTER XXIV The blush on Vine's cheeks was a vivid crimson now which spread all over her face. I have not made myself understood, she said earnestly. I did not mean to stand outside and criticise in the spirit of one who believed she could do any better than the rest. I mean simply that these workers seemed to me to have thought out some grand ways of reaching and helping others, ways which would never have occurred to me in the world, and then have stopped short of their privileges. They disappoint me, but not more than I disappoint myself. I understand perfectly, dear little Vine. There is solemn truth in what you have been saying. Some of these ways of working could be utilised. It is your and my privilege, since they have been thought out for us, to help utilise them. I think of some things which I will do as soon as I reach home. I think of one thing which I will go to my room and do this evening. I will write to that boy. The words which I did not speak to him years ago. To be sure I don't know where he is, not even if he is on earth at all now. And he is no longer a boy, if living, but a young man. But I will shoot an arrow at a venture, and see what will come of it. And you needn't blush nor look distressed, Vine, dear, for this is a direct outgrowth of your strong little lecture to-night. Meantime I insist that you join our class at once, and let it help you live out your own ideas. How does it come to pass that yours is the class of eighty-seven? said Vine, when you were here at the formation of the circle. I should have supposed you would have entered the ranks at once. There was a sudden pressure of the hand which held Vine's, and Miss Force's voice, when she spoke again, trembled a little. I did, dear, and read for two years or more, then a shadow of great darkness fell upon me. I buried my mother and sister, and one strong, true friend, my best friend, all within a year. It took me a long time to creep out of the darkness into God's light again. In fact, I never did. I was utterly crushed and helpless and rebellious. But in his infinite love and mercy he reached down after me, and drew me up into the sunlight of his presence, as I had never felt it before. I joined the class of eighty-seven for the express purpose of working in it for him, and I thank him for putting certain words into your heart to say to-night. They have helped me to ideas. But I don't want you to stand outside any longer. Come in and help us. Now, let us go home. I want to write my letter. I ought to be in eighty-seven, said Vine dreamily, as she slipped her hand through the other's arm, and they went down the moonlighted avenue together. Something should be done to signalize that year. It has always seemed to me, as though it brought to me a marked time in my life. I suppose for no more sensible reason than because I shall be exactly as old as my mother was when she married. And mother has told me so much about her life, that from a wee child I have had romantic ideas connected with that date. The sentence closed with a little laugh, but Miss Force did not echo the laugh. She, too, had had a peculiar mother, one about whom all the tender memories and fanciful dreams of childhood clustered, and she had now only a grave. She spoke so gently to Vine about the blessedness of having such a mother, and smothered in her heart the pain which throbbed when she remembered that she counted nearly all her treasures by graves. I'll write a letter to your boy, spoke Vine a few minutes later, with another little laugh. Give him a bit of advice from my wise old lips. How will that do for romance? It may have a better source than romance, Miss Force said. What if the Holy Spirit has suggested it, and will give you a message which he knows can reach a stranger and draw him home? What a solemn thing such possibilities make of life! said Vine instantly sobered. Then after a moment. Well, Miss Force, I will write it, just a little word from one stranger to another. I do not even know his name. Don't tell me, please. It will seem all the more like a venture into the unknown. Will you enclose it with your letter? Certainly, but you are to remember that hardly anything is less probable than that it will ever reach his hands. I have not the slightest clue as to his whereabouts nor existence. It is one of my regrets. I meant to keep him in view, but, as I told you, the shadows shut down upon me so suddenly and rapidly that year. I know, said Vine, clasping her friend's hand in intense, silent sympathy. She had heard something of those three graves from a friend of both. Arrived at the cottage, Miss Force went directly to her room to write my letter, she said, smiling. Vine was on her way to the same work, but seeing a light in the kitchen went thither and found her mother washing dishes. Mother, in the kitchen at this hour and dish washing! At this hour, repeated the weary mother with a one smile, it is ridiculous, Vine, but I have been hindered all the evening, and great events have come to pass since tea. I should think so. Here, give me the cloth, sit down, Mother, this minute. I hadn't an idea of this, and I have been loitering in the moonlight this entire evening. Where is Anne? Anne is seated in blissful repose on the deck of some steamer, I presume, at this moment enjoying the moonlight. She has left us, Vine. Left us? To stay? What for? When did she go? Why, Mother, what in the world are we to do? One at a time, dear. She has been gone about an hour. The special occasion for her leaving was, I think, because she felt too angry to stay. She has been, you know, in a chronic state of ill-humor for several weeks. As to the special cause of this outburst, I was too busy and too tired to inquire. Something went wrong between her and Hannah, I believe. Then I complained a little of the napkins, and that was the straw too much. Never mind, Vine, more serious trials than this have been lived through. I know, but here it is in the very height of the season, and our house so full of borders, and more help and impossibility. You have so much more care now than you ought to have. I don't see what we are to do. There will be a way provided, dear. We won't worry. Besides, I have not told you all my news. Something else happened. I had a call from Mrs. Griggs. Poor Mother! Said Vine, with a half laugh. All your troubles come together. I had no idea you were enduring such an evening while I sat mooning in the hall. What did Mrs. Griggs want? Something which I am in doubt whether to name as a special providence or a special trial. She came a few minutes after Anne's outburst. Vine, she wants to come here. To come here, repeated Vine, setting the dish she had been drying perilously near to the edge of the table, and looking the embodiment of bewilderment and dismay. Come where? To this house? For what? To board? No, said Mrs. Wilmuth, laughing. She is not in search of a boarding place. She wants to work, Vine, to come right in with us and take hold of things, she says. She is not satisfied with her present management. She has very few borders, and they are not of the paying sort. They want all kinds of gim cracks which she doesn't know how to make. She says she can do the substantial as well as the next one, but the fussings are for young things like you who give their mind to them. She has an opportunity to rent her house, ready furnished, to a party of young people from Michigan who want to keep house. And to make her long story short, she proposes to rent it to them if we will let her come here and take hold with all her might for good wages. She was never one of the stuck-up sort, she says, and if she can get a good rent for her house and earn her living by cooking for regular wages instead of getting her pay out of the small change which happens to be left over after she has bought and cooked and done her best for a lot of cantankerous and disappointed borders. She doesn't see why she shouldn't do it. I hope you enjoy her expressive phrases, Vine, as well as I did. It positively rested me to hear her words. There seemed to be so much strength in them. She is a very strong woman. Well, daughter, of course I could say nothing definite in reply. I told her there were two of us, and we always worked together as one, and that I should have to see her tomorrow. What shall we say?" Vine was drying the last knife. She rubbed it with slow care, as though her happiness for weeks to follow might depend on the degree of polish which she succeeded in bestowing, and said not a word. Her mother watched her expressive face with a shade of anxiety, but the daughter did not notice it. She was imagining Mrs. Josiah Griggs among the kettles and dishcloths of that kitchen, knocking the things about in her ponderous, bustling way, displacing and arranging all the various trim contrivances for expediting the work of the kitchen, which had been among the vigorously pushed studies of Vine's latest winter. She heard herself spoken to a dozen times in a day, in the harsh, loud voice she knew so well. Here, Alvine, put them things away, can't you? Alvine, what's to hinder your taking hold in making those cookies, instead of me taking my time? A girl of your age ought to do all the bacon for the whole family. She could almost hear her voice at the moment. It was so exactly like Mrs. Griggs's way of managing other people's affairs for them. It was so unlike the ways to which she was accustomed. Her mother's low-voiced daughter was always music to her ears, and the girls all liked her. Even Anne had rarely been crossed to her. Mrs. Griggs was the only person she knew who seemed privileged to live in a chronic state of fault-finding with her. Would it be possible to endure her presence all day and every day? Still, how were they to manage else? The cook was already overworked, and the chambermaid was good-naturedly doing more each day than properly fell to her share. Anne, despite her high temper, had been very efficient, and her place would be hard to fill, even if, during the season, it had been possible to fill it in any way. Certainly, as her mother said, there were phases about this strange proposal which seemed like a special providence. Mrs. Griggs knew how to do heavy work, and a good deal of it. And mother, poor mother, was overworked and very tired. She stole a glance at her as she sat in the chair where Vine had placed her. Not idle, she had risen almost immediately, washed her hands at the sink, visited the refrigerator, and returned with a dish of potatoes which she was pairing steadily while she talked. She looked very pale and worn. Looking at her, Vine thought suddenly of Miss Forza's mother, and of the flowers strewn grave under a family elm which had been described to her. She spoke suddenly. Well, mother, I think perhaps we would better call it a providence and try her. At least, only. And her face lighted a little with a possible hope. There is one thing to think of. How would she and Hannah agree? If Hannah should get vexed and leave us, we would be in trouble. Mrs. Wilmuth did not know whether to smile or sigh. She had noted the flash of hope on Vine's face. No, she said gently. Hannah and she are cronies, so she says. The smile had its way this time. They can work together as nice as two pigs in a pen. The simile is her own Vine. Then mother and daughter looked at one another and laughed outright. Very well, said Vine, breaking off suddenly and shutting back resolutely a little sigh. Let us try them. And now, mother, cannot you go at once to bed? I will finish those potatoes and leave everything in order for Hannah. But daughter, about this matter, have you thought of everything which it involves? I am surprised that you consider it feasible, even in this emergency. Anne slept across the way with her friend, you know, but Mrs. Griggs cannot be expected to do that. And Hannah and Jane have such a little room, there is no chance to put up another bed, even if that would answer. Do you see Vine all that it would involve? No, Vine had not seen, had not thought of such a possibility. Her face paled under it, and she sat down suddenly in the straight-backed kitchen chair, her face wearing a curious, drawn look. She would have to sleep with me. She gasped rather than spoke. Why, not quite so bad as that, dear, we could set the cot up for her, but it would have to go in your room, I suppose. I have thought it all over for the last hour, and I can imagine no other way. I think we shall have to dismiss the question, daughter, as among the impossibles. And Vine took it all in, as one bitter dose. She saw the ponderous feet treading heavily on the bright rugs in her pretty room, strong hands setting the chairs with a bang on her delicate matting, slamming brush and comb among the purities of her white toilet table. Vine even thought she saw many hairs standing in frowsy snarls all around the edges of that brush, leaning over and touching with oily breath the white frills of her pin cushion. She shivered and looked about her for the open window once the wind came, and wondered that the evening had suddenly turned so chilly. Her one little white room, her pretty refuge from all that jarred in her life, which was, of course, not all sunshine, for she was not a daughter who shirked, and in summer the hours were full of crowding and not always congenial duties. But in her own pretty room she had given free reign to her dainty delicate fancies and reveled among just the tints and shapes which pleased her best. Simple, inexpensive adornments, not the less precious because they were so largely the work of her own or her mother's hands. Vine had always, from the time she was six, and was promoted from the crib to the dignity of a little white bed of her own in the tiny room which opened out from mother's, had this one spot sacred to herself, her own room. Even her mother, with the delicate tact which had characterized this plain, hardworking woman in the bringing up of her daughter, always knocked at this door and awaited permission before she entered. Could Vine endure it to have Mrs. Josiah Griggs passing in and out at all hours of the day as one who had a right there? Could she lie still under the delicate draperies of her lovely bed and listen to the hard breathing of the ponderous form on the cot? I almost know she snores," said poor Vine to herself, with that curious mixing of the ludicrous with the pathetic, which is an accompaniment of all excited states of nerve. Oh, dear, I can't, I really can't do it. Mother is right, we must dismiss this thing as impossible. Vine, said Mrs. Wilmuth, after the silence had lasted for several minutes during which she had finished and put away the potatoes. She came to her daughter's side and passed her hand lovingly over the girl's brown hair. Vine, don't let us think of it any more. I hadn't an idea of it, daughter, really. I was surprised that you should have. It is quite out of the question, of course. I would not have your home life spoiled in any such way. Let us get to rest, dear, and don't worry. We shall see our way clearer in the morning. Some way will be provided, there always is. Promise me, daughter, that you will not give it any more thought? Then Vine reached up and kissed her mother, a long, clinging kiss. I'll promise, she said, rising, and winding her arms about the mother. As she looked fondly down on her, she was a trifle the taller of the two. It doesn't need any more thinking about little mother. It is all thought out and settled. I was planning where I should have the cot stand. End of Chapter 24 Chapter 25 of 87 by Pansy. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 25 A Great Many Little Things You think it was a very little thing? Well, that is true enough. Yet, when we stop to consider it, life for the most part is made up of little things. It is only the occasional which is startling in its magnitude. If one would be sympathetic with his kind, there is this thing always to remember. It is much easier to sit in a quiet room, surrounded with an atmosphere of peace, and talk about the petty trials of others, and the duty of bearing them cheerfully, than it is to belong to that other company who are at that moment in the heat of the conflict between duty and inclination. Something of this Vine Wilmeth felt, as she held herself by sheer force of will, quiet as to movement and speech, and watched the ponderous form of Mrs. Josiah Griggs coming down upon the treasured sweetnesses of her pretty room. Not absolutely quiet, either, for she made a sudden, instantly controlled movement, and shivered as though a chill had possession of her, as a tiny vase of delicate workmanship bounced over against the small volume in brown and gold, which lay on the toilet table. Oh, it didn't break, said Mrs. Griggs. You needn't jump as though you were going into a fit. It's a wonder it didn't, such a shivery little thing, no bigger than a minute. Mercy knows how you ever get dressed with so many gougas round. You needn't come, I'm wiping up the water all right. There wasn't a thimbleful, that's one comfort. No, it ain't hurt the book, not much anyway. There's a blister or two on it, but they'll dry out, I guess. This table ain't no place for books. There's trinkets enough without them, Mercy knows. Don't throw the rose away, please, Mrs. Griggs. It is a very choice variety. Put it in the large vase, please, with the, why, where is the large vase? I sought it out in the hall by the door. It was dreadfully in the way last night. There wasn't a spot to lay a thing down. I come within an inch of tipping that over. Flowers ain't wholesome in a bedroom anyhow. If I was you, I'd get a big box somewhere and put a hundred of these fussy things in it and nail them up till times was easier. It's enough to make a body crazy to try to get dressed in a room where it ain't safe to lay down in apron without being in danger of tipping over a whole wagon full of glass and shiny things, to say nothing of tag ends of ribbons and lace flying about. For my part I don't see how folks think such things is neat. The tongue was absolutely quiet, but Vine gathered herself up from what seemed to her now her only refuge, that sweet white bed, and went with swift step into the hall to recover her treasures before some ruthless hand swept them away as rubbish. She could think of no answer which was safe to make to Mrs. Griggs, so she kept silent still, but she set the offending vase on a chair close to her bedside, then took refuge once more within its folds and covered even her head while the toilet of the other lady made swift progress. The moment the resounding slam of the door indicated a departure, Vine was on her feet, turning the key in the lock, even slipping the little bolt below the lock as though the former were not protection enough. Next she fell to a vigorous scrubbing of the pretty wash bowl with its pale blue bands, murmuring excitedly as she scrubbed, how am I ever to endure it? Oh, she wasn't heroic, I admit, and there are undoubtedly heavier trials in life than hers, and I do not hold her up as a model, but such as she was poor child I present her to you. This was the first morning of the inflection. She did get a big box during that same day and bestow within it with loving hand certain of her most treasured goo-gauze, leaving a clearer sweep for Mrs. Griggs's heavy hands. But it was not until the close of that long week that she presented herself with a half-laughing face at the door of Miss Force's room one afternoon just as the bell was ringing for round table at the hall. I am quite ready, she said meekly. I have resolved to join the circle. I have discovered that while I have been moat-hunting among its members, there are beams enough in my own eyes to almost destroy the sight. Dear Elise, I am ashamed of all I said to you the other night. Not that it is not true, but that I plainly feel now that the way to have made it less true was to have taken hold with the others and used their ways and my ways and always as well as I could for his sake. Besides, and this is the greatest part of the mystery, it is easier to be good for others than it is for oneself. It is easier to do things which you like and which in a sense are natural to you than it is to do what goes utterly against the selfish side of your nature. Isn't that an original discovery? But there is an immense difference between knowing a thing and feeling it. Come in, said Miss Force, turning from the arrangement of her bonnet to kiss her fair guest. I've been watching you, dear. It is the new woman, isn't it, who has been helping? Didn't you call it hindering, little girl? I don't think it. I believe my vine has been growing all the week. If you could see her heart, you would discover a whole regiment of new weeds. But the heart is under cultivation. I know all about it, dear. It is easier to bear other people's petty trials than it is our own. I am glad you have decided for our class. You need not regret nor try to recall what you said the other evening. It is much truer than it ought to be. We need more wide-open eyes to see its mistakes and take hold of them with determined hand. But my friend, will not the work be hard for you? Much as I want you with us, would it not be better to join the 88s? Oh, I have been reading the books of the course in my leisure moments all winter. I liked to keep it so much in view, but I could not decide to join because of the motes. At least, there are a great many hypocrites in this world who do not suspect that they are such. That is a discovery, certainly, the elder lady said with a light laugh. I think I should doubt in such cases whether the name applied to them. I suspect you are talking about a large company of Christians, not hypocrites, who need to pray. Lord, open thou our eyes. The trouble is we do not see our opportunities. But, dear Elise, that comforting thought does not apply to me. I have seen them and shirked them, only I did not understand that I was doing so. It is, as you said, the old foolish argument. If I were in the church, I should live thus and so, and complacently stay outside and do nothing. Isn't it extraordinary, though, that the very woman of whom I was complaining should have been the one to give me a glimpse of myself? I don't believe I should have decided in this way if I had not been astonished over the awful trial it was to me to do even for the comfort of my own dear mother something that I did not want to do. It makes all the difference in the world and I did not know it. Certainly I ought to be more charitable in the future, whether I am or not. What we ought to be, we will be, dear. Don't you think that would be a good class motto? I do feel, Vine, that you enter the circle with widely increased responsibilities. The great teacher has shown you many ways of working. You have increased my sense of responsibility. I do want to work especially for his glory, dear friend, yet I am one of those who have not done it through this channel, as I think I will in the future. I do not suppose the General Secretary of the Circle, as she pushed her great book forward for Vine Wilmeth to sign the next morning, knew what an accession of power the Class of 87 was receiving, nor how much fuller would be the record of those who should eventually pass through the Golden Gate, leading to the Eternal City, because of that one name more. Yet I fancy there may have been eager-eyed, unseen watchers, who, as they saw the tracing in firm, fair hand of the pretty name, may have said one to another, Look, she has entered the Class of 87. That means she has pledged to work through its channels for the honor of our King. That means she will use its wide opportunities for gathering in a harvest for the Lord of the Vineyard, for they study the word and the works of God, and always keep our Heavenly Father in the midst. If we could, for one day, see with spiritual vision, get a long sweep beyond these apparently narrow lives of ours, it might make a solemn difference with our next day's work. Mrs. Griggs, said Vine, arresting a hurried footstep through the heated kitchen, moved by one of those sudden impulses which seem hard to understand or explain, I have taken your advice at last, look at my badge, I am one of the 87s. Well, I am sure I am glad to hear it, said Mrs. Griggs, giving vigorous pounds with the potato masher. You've been long enough making up your mind, you might be graduating this summer instead of just beginning, but I suppose it's better late than never, why you hung back so beats me. Mrs. Griggs, said Vine, turning again, her dish of blackberries in hand ready for the table, mischief brimming in her eyes and sparkling in her voice, if Mrs. Griggs' faculties had been attuned to see and hear such subtleties. Mrs. Griggs, it was your influence which led me at last to fall into line. A rarely bright look flashed for an instant over the homely heated face of the animated potato masher. She laid down her implement of warfare and turned her full gaze on Vine. You don't say so, she ejaculated, each word coming out with an explosive burst as though it represented pent-up power. Well, I never. Well, as I said, you've been long enough about it. Mercy knows I don't generally poke so about the things I do. Take in them berries quick for Petty's sake and then fly round and help us dish up. Hannah and I ain't got but a pair of hands of peace, do our level best. Rewards for Petty's sacrifices are often too slow to come that it is not uncommon for lives to pass out into the future without receiving a word or glance of recompense. But there are occasional other experiences. Vine Wilmeth's case was one of the exceptions. She never forgot that breathless morning three weeks after the new order of things. It had been a specially trying morning in her room. Mrs. Griggs had laid her hairbrush with the dreadful hairs fringing it, prone on Vine's own pretty ruffle and had dried her hands on Vine's private towel hung in an obscure corner behind the door and had been in various ways especially aggravating. And Vine, left alone at last, had loitered over her toilet with the feeling that she could not go down to the kitchen and receive that woman's orders and endure her ways any more. Then she had received a swift summons to her mother's room and had found the doctor there and her father looking troubled and the doctor looking grave and speaking preemptorily in answer to Mrs. Wilmeth's pitiful remonstrance that she must get up, that there was more to do today than usual and that the cook had scalded her hand. You must not get up, had the doctor replied. Three days of absolute rest from work and worry of every sort and we may be able to save you from a serious illness. But if you make an effort even to give a direction today, I will not answer for the consequences. Then it did seem to poor Vine as though the sun had gone out and the earth had reached up and swallowed the sky and all its brightness and beauty. Twenty-two borders for whom to prepare dinner and Hannah with a scalded hand and mother helpless and worrying. Then up rose Mrs. Josiah Griggs in her strength. Just you lie still and get rested. You're all tuckered out. That's what's the matter with you and that's all that's the matter if you behave yourself. I'm used to sickness. What you need is rest. I'll see to things myself. What's twenty-two folks to dinner more than thirteen folks when you get added? And I had thirteen folks for seven weeks and not a soul to do a stroke of work but me. What if Hannah has scalded her hand? I haven't, neither of mine and they both know how to work, I can tell you. There's plenty of things that even scalded hands can do and Vine here can tend to the desserts and gougas. Fixin' the dishes straight on the table and the posies and all that kind of nonsense and we'll manage the rest just see if we don't. There was a sense of reserve strength in the very loudness of her voice that morning and the fierce summer sun rushed towards its zenith and the dinner hour came and passed and Vine reported to the anxious mother that Mrs. Griggs had been true to her word. Dinner had been prompt and perfect. One border had said that things tasted almost better than usual and that that was unnecessary and the kitchen was in order and all the arrangements made for tea and Hannah's hand was better and Mrs. Griggs had sent her word that she was just to lie still and behave herself. That she, Mrs. Griggs, was good for dinner for twenty-two more people if they wanted it. Three, four, even five days of fierce heat and of enforced idleness on the part of the busy brain and hands which were won't to direct the machinery of this household and yet the machinery moved on. Jars there were some broken dishes, some spilled milk of various kinds yet on the whole peace and good cooking certainly, never better. Mrs. Griggs knew how to cook and as to promptness she was never behind time with anything as for straightening the dishes and adding the fruit and the flowers, Vine looked out for these as she did for a hundred other little-wearing cares about which she said nothing to her mother. Her room was kept dark and cool and quiet. Only the pretty and entirely successful results of each day's strain were allowed to go up to help rest her. On the fifth night came a shower and the morning dawned cool and refreshing. The unprecedented warm wave was over. Mrs. Wilmeth, with the doctor's permission, sat up in her chair, even crept downstairs late in the afternoon to find all the machinery still moving swiftly and well. How shall I ever thank you? She said heartily to Mrs. Griggs. You have done everything for me. I feel all made over with this complete rest and Vine says you have kept everything exactly as it should be. I don't want no thanks, said Mrs. Griggs in grim satisfaction. I'm used to work and I know how to do it. As for the table, I didn't pay much attention to that. Hannah and I between us got the things ready to eat and Alvine seemed to the fussing part about having them the right shape and triangle and all that nonsense. Alvine's more of a girl than a body would suppose she could be with all the coddling she's had in bringing her up. Vine told some of her grateful thoughts over to her friend, Miss Force, in characteristic fashion. I cleared off my own little pinecone bracket for her brush and comb this morning, Elise, and I made her a present of the perfumed soap she likes so much, out and out. And I've decided that she may snore like a porpoise every night if she feels like it. I shall be grateful to her forever all the same. Elise, with a sudden tightening of her hand on the elder lady's wrist, I believe these five days of rest have saved mother's life and she would not have rested if Mrs. Griggs had not been here. Her mind couldn't have rested, you know, and I almost had her not come. End of Chapter 25.