By the Way of the Silverthorns

by Grace Livingston Hill

  The sister drew a relieved sigh, slipped out through the kitchen to see if her mother needed her help, and found that mother had everything ready to serve as soon as the charade should be over. So she went back to the living room to enjoy the final scene and think over the turn of events.

  It was Curlin who stepped up beside her a moment when the last act was over. They were all laughing and shouting the word they had guessed. He bent and said in a low whisper: “Was that somebody calling Steve on the phone?”

  McRae lifted troubled eyes to his face and nodded.

  “A girl?”

  She nodded again.

  “Did she give her name?”

  “She called herself Mysie!” Her answers were low and troubled.

  “That’s the girl,” said Curlin sadly. “Did you tell Steve?”

  She nodded.

  “What did he say?”

  “He said ‘To heck with the girl’ and ran off upstairs. He wouldn’t talk to her.”

  Curlin smiled grimly.

  “I didn’t think he had that much sense! But—after all, it was a cowardly thing to do. He ought to have gone and told her a few things and ended the matter. Now he’ll have it to settle again.”

  Rae nodded somberly and considered the future, sighing softly.

  “Has—this been going on for some time?” she asked drearily, “or has it just begun?”

  Curlin frowned.

  “Well, I’m not exactly sure. It isn’t the first time, I’m sure of that, but how he got started on a number like that I can’t figure out, with all the fine girls who have been around him all his life.”

  His glance fell admiringly on McRae’s lovely face, bright, capable, intelligent, beautiful, her sweet eyes clouded now with anxiety.

  “I suppose it’s just the devil getting into girls,” she said with a weary little sigh.

  “I’m sorry you had to get in on this,” said Curlin with a troubled look at her. “It doesn’t seem as if anything like this ought ever to come near to you. It was my fault. I shouldn’t have told you where he was. I ought to have known better. I was just sore at him or I wouldn’t have let on that I knew where he was.”

  “Why should I be protected?” said McRae with a sad little smile. “I’ve got to grow up like other people and know things. I’ve got to be able to understand sin and temptations and help other brothers and sisters in temptation.”

  “No!” said Curlin sharply. “It doesn’t seem right. It seems as if you ought to be having a lovely Eden to walk around in and enjoy, one where sin and sorrow could never enter.”

  “Well, I would probably listen to the first tempter who came around. Perhaps if Eve had seen somebody else in temptation she would have understood better, and wouldn’t have eaten that apple. We have blamed Eve a lot, but wouldn’t we likely have done just the same if we’d been in her place?”

  “No!” said Curlin earnestly again, “I can’t think you would. You’ve always seemed like one of the angels to me.”

  “Thanks, Curly!” said McRae with a quick brightness in her eyes. “I’m not, of course, but I’ll remember that you thought so, when I get utterly discouraged with myself. But, Curly, look at me sitting here discussing deep philosophical questions and there’s poor mother out in the kitchen getting little trays ready to be brought in. Let’s go and help her!” She started up with Curlin following, and soon they were hard at work.

  Chapter 8

  They arrived in the living room door with tempting trays in their hands, just as Paul Redfern was beginning to sing a solo, and they were all still, listening. Even Steve stopped joking with Fran Ferrin, and as his attention to the general fun relaxed, a troubled uneasy look passed over his face.

  Rae and Curlin stood in the doorway with their trays, waiting till the song should be finished, and as they waited they looked around upon the faces of their friends. Rae wondered to herself if any of the rest of them had hidden worries, or temptations, or sins. If she knew as much about some of the others as she did about Steve tonight, would she be carrying them all on her heart? Did everybody need to be prayed for? Were there flaws and weaknesses in every one of them? Was there one anywhere who did not need help? Why, she wasn’t even sure whether some of them were saved or not. There was Sue Richards. She had never seen her except for brief visits. Had she left a witness with her, so that if she never heard the truth of salvation from anyone else, she would not be without it? Oh! Life was a great responsibility, with so many unbelievers about on every side! Why, here she had been brought up next door to Steve all her life and it had never occurred to her before tonight that he might need help.

  “Is Fran Ferrin a real Christian, do you think?” asked Curlin suddenly in a low voice. He had been watching Steve, and saw the girl turn a quick glance toward his brother. I was a warm, comical glance, as if she admired Steve and enjoyed his company, and there came at once the question of what kind of influence she was.

  “I’m not sure,” answered Rae. “I was wondering the same thing.”

  “Well, this song is about over, and I know Carey means to ask Paul to sing again if we give her half a chance. She’s been watching him with all her eyes. She confided in me a while ago that she’d like to hear him and Link sing some weird modern thing together, so she’ll probably try to bring it about if we let her.”

  “Let’s go!” said Rae to Curlin, and they moved out into the midst of the group with their trays, which most effectually brought to a halt any musical intentions any of them might have had.

  Link was on duty at once when he saw his sister with the tray and afterward she noticed that Link had waited upon Carey and come with his own plate to stand beside her chair, and finally to bring up another chair and sit there talking. And Carey seemed nothing loath.

  She had a passing thought that Carey had looked at Paul Redfern, with much the same consideration that she was now giving Link. Or was there a trifle more warmth in her glance now than there had been for Paul? Paul was wealthy, influential, and very handsome. Well, Link was good looking too, of course.

  Then she shrank away from all such thoughts. How much nicer to be just casual and happy and not be digging into deeper feelings.

  There was a dreamy sweet look in her eyes as they rested on her brother’s earnest face. How he was watching Carey! How keenly he seemed to be studying her. Was Link beginning to care for Carey? What kind of a girl was Carey? A church member, yes. A charming, alert, attractive girl, but was she one who would stand by Link all through the days and be ready to go even to death beside him, if the way of the Lord seemed to call? That was what Link would need. Link wasn’t just the ordinary Christian. Link even as a young boy had been deeply spiritual, full of life and joy with all his sincerity. Was it just because he was her brother that she felt he was so wonderful, or was he really rare? He was so quiet with it all, keeping himself so utterly in the background, that people might not recognize the beauty of his Christian faith. Did Carey? When she really stopped to think about it it did not seem as if there was anybody she knew who was good enough for Link. Dear old Link! Link should have a very wonderful girl.

  Then they began to sing again.

  And now Carey had her way and Link and Paul were singing a duet. Their voices blended beautifully, and it was hard to say which had the finer voice. Another and another was called for, and then someone insisted on a male quartette. But after one number Link suddenly called on Luther.

  “Now, Link!” protested Luther. “I have a voice like a crosscut saw. You sing on. I’m just having the time of my life listening. I’m no primmydonner!”

  But Link insisted.

  “Yes, Lute! You’ve got to come. I want you to sing that hymn you sang down at the mission the other night. Then we’ll learn the chorus and sing it with you! Come on!”

  “Mission? What mission?” asked Carey. “How did they get you to a mission, Lutie?”

  “Oh, it’s just a little dump where I teach Sundays and other times,” answered Lut
her diffidently. “No, Link, I can’t sing here. My voice is only fit for a little back alley mission!”

  “Back alley missions are the hardest to reach, Lute, and you reached ’em! I heard you! Come on now, get up, old fellow. You sing the whole thing through first, and then Paul and Steve and Curlin and I will catch on to the chorus and come in on it the next time.”

  Luther came hesitantly forward and Carey looked dismayed.

  “Have you got the music?” she asked. “I can’t play just anything out of the blue without music.”

  “Oh, McRae can play it,” said Luther unexpectedly. “I taught it to her one day not long ago.”

  So Carey slid from the piano bench. McRae took her place, touching a few chords quietly, and suddenly Luther’s big sweet voice rang out clearly:

  “I was just a poor lost sinner,

  Till Jesus came my way.

  He smiled into my eyes and said,

  ‘Come walk with me today!’

  A sinner! A poor lost sinner!

  Not fit to company

  With Jesus Christ, the sinless One,

  Nor walk with royalty.

  Me! A sinner! A poor lost sinner!

  He wore a diadem!

  I was not worthy e’en to touch

  His very garment’s hem!

  “I looked upon His loving smile,

  His gracious hands outspread,

  I saw my sinful worthless self

  And sadly shook my head.

  ‘I cannot walk with Thee,’ I said,

  ‘With sins upon my soul!’

  But tenderly He told me then

  That He would make me whole.

  Me! A sinner! A poor lost sinner!

  Condemned eternally!

  He died upon the cross Himself

  That He might set me free!

  “Right joyously I came to Him

  And took Him for my Lord.

  He took my sin, He washed me white

  With His own precious blood!

  And some day He’ll present me

  To the presence of my King,

  Without a spot or wrinkle

  Or any sinful thing.

  Me! A sinner! A poor lost sinner!

  I’m telling you it’s true!

  He died upon the cross for me!

  He’s done the same for you!”

  Luther Waite sang simple words with such power that there were sudden tears in every eye, and when he finished there was an utter stillness. Till unexpectedly Curlin spoke.

  “Waite! That’s great!” he said with earnestness. “That’s better than any sermon I ever heard. You make it real!”

  This from Curlin meant a lot. There was another moment of silence, almost embarrassment on the part of some of the girls, and then Lincoln Silverthorn spoke, in a natural everyday voice:

  “Well, fellows, shall we try it? I’ve scribbled off the words as he was singing. Suppose we come in on the chorus each time. Let Lute lead it. Raise your hand, Lute, when you want us to come in.”

  Then Luther started again, for all the world as if he were telling a story that was very real to him, and his voice had such power over them all that the others as they tuned in sang in that same telling way, telling a story that was real to them. If any one of the four voices was out of key, or rather out of sympathy with the sentiment of the song, it was Steve’s smooth sweet tenor. He sang, and his voice blended with the others exquisitely, but there was somehow an alien touch to it, as if Steve was outside of the experience of which the song told.

  Nevertheless, as the rehearsal went on even Steve caught the spirit of it, seemed a real part of the whole, and McRae watched him in wonder.

  “Now,” said Link when the song was finished, “I think that was fine! And perhaps I’d better tell you right now that you’re all going to sing that in church tomorrow morning in my choir. Yes, you are!” he added as the quartette began to protest. “I haven’t had time to get up new numbers this week, and you’re going to help me out. That’s the reason I asked Lute to sing. Now, will you try it again? I’ll have some copies made by morning for you, but I guess we can rub along through a practice or two without more than one.”

  “Why, I’ll make some copies for you now,” offered Carey. “Isn’t your typewriter here in the library? Where shall I find paper and carbon?”

  “Right hand middle drawer of the desk,” said Link, smiling his thanks. “Carbon in the bottom drawer. It’s awfully kind of you, I’m sure!” And he flushed his gratitude in one of his charming smiles.

  Then all business he turned back to his quartette and began directing. Link was a real musician, and he did his work well. It was the first time any of them but the Grants had seen this side of Link, and they were filled with wonder. So was Carey when she presently came back with five copies of the song.

  They went to work in real earnest, and were all more than a little interested in the service in which the boys were to have a part on the morrow. All but Sue Richards who sighed to her roommate as she prepared for rest.

  “Well, I suppose we’re all slated for church tomorrow morning,” she said dolorously. “I don’t see what Link had to do that for! I thought of course he’d have us all out to the country club for golf!”

  “Oh, my no!” said Betty Patterson. “Don’t you know the Silverthorns better than that? They never play golf on Sunday!”

  “They don’t? Why? Are they so awfully religious?”

  “Well, yes, they are,” said Betty. “I’ve always heard that. Although they’re such jolly good company that nobody seems to mind. And after all, you have a good time here, even if you do have to waste a little time Sundays going to church.”

  “Oh, yes. But how much nicer it would be if these Silverthorns weren’t so awfully narrow. If they would just try to adjust their ideas to others’ point of view it would be more comfortable all around.”

  “In other words if they wouldn’t carry their religion all the way. If they would just compromise enough to be fashionable and take in the world to a certain extent you would like them better. But you don’t have to come here if you don’t like it, you know.”

  “Oh, I like it all right of course,” said Sue. “Take today. It was a real godsend, for I would have had an awfully dull time if I had had to go back and hang around till Monday.”

  “And yet you kick because you have to go to church for an hour or two! Of course you can always profess to have a sick headache and stay in bed till they get back if you feel that bad about it.”

  “Well, don’t you hate it yourself? Come now! Tell the truth!”

  “No!” said Betty sharply. “I’m rather intrigued by it. In fact I’m really looking forward to it. I never heard a man sing a song like that. I’m convinced that Lute meant every word he sang. I never knew Luther Waite was like that, and I want to hear it again. If all professed Christians were like that I’m not sure but I’d be a Christian myself. I mean a real out and out one, not just merely a church member such as you and I are.”

  “Thanks awfully,” said Sue, and she turned over on her pillow and closed her eyes. “I shouldn’t care to be any out and outer than I am. I wouldn’t want to get so narrow I couldn’t be like the majority of decent people. I would hate to be peculiar.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t. Not if there were something real behind it!” said Betty, and flouncing over set herself to slumber.

  Over in the next room McRae and Carey were lying side by side talking of generalities at first, and then settling down to the surprises the evening had brought them, that is, some of the surprises. Carey didn’t know them all of course. She hadn’t heard a thing about Steve.

  “I didn’t know Luther Waite was like that, did you?” said Carey yawning sleepily. “I just thought he was a born comedian, didn’t you?”

  “Oh, no,” said McRae. “He has been that way ever since he was saved. About two years ago or a little more perhaps. But he always was reserved in speaking of his innermost feelings. He doesn’t talk ab
out those things unless he feels someone can be helped by it. He shrinks awfully from talking about himself and his personal experiences.”

  “Well, it’s a revelation to me,” said Carey. “I thought he was just a nice boy having a good time. I never knew he had a serious thought.”

  “Oh, he’s very serious,” said McRae. “We see a good deal of him. Link and he are great friends, and it’s wonderful how interested he is in that little mission of his. He’s all wrapped up in it.”

  “Well, it’s a new slant on him for me,” said Carey. “I don’t know that I’d want to go as far as he does. It might be awkward at times when one was in company where they weren’t interested in such things. Although of course Luther didn’t do much talking tonight, did he? He just sang it, but somehow he sang it as if he were preaching. As if he were telling just what he thought about such things. He really was very impressive. But I was wondering what others would think of his way of singing. Your brother Lincoln, and Paul Redfern are so much more sophisticated in their ways, aren’t they? I couldn’t quite imagine either of them working in a common mission. To tell you the truth I never like things to get too personal, too emotional, you know. That song was almost too emotional. It didn’t seem the style of either your brother or Paul Redfern.”

  McRae laughed softly.