By the Way of the Silverthorns

by Grace Livingston Hill

  “That’s right,” said Tim with a long dreary sigh. “It’s ten miles from our town to the railroad, and the train service is awful. Just an old dinkey worn-out train that’s always breaking down.”

  “Think we’d stand more chance of getting there soon by automobile?”

  “Sure thing!” said the boy sadly. “But I haven’t got any automobile, and if I had I haven’t got any license.”

  “Oh, but I have,” said Luther. “Got both!”

  The boy’s face lighted as with sunshine.

  “Are you going, Luther?”

  “Why of course!” said Luther. “You didn’t think I was sending you off alone on an errand like this? Certainly I’m going along. Come, let’s get busy and eat a good breakfast, so we won’t have to waste too much time stopping for food.”

  He picked up the phone and called his garage.

  “Get ready my car,” he ordered, “gas, oil, and a thorough checking over. Make it snappy. I want to be ready to start on a long journey by noon if possible. Bring it here to the usual place, and tell the man to wait at the front entrance till I come down. No, I don’t want a driver.”

  He hung up the receiver and attacked the hot cakes and sausage, and Tim sat there in a daze. Just like that this amazing man gave his orders as if he were used to being obeyed. A man he had found in a slum mission! What could it mean? Tim almost wondered if possibly there wasn’t a God after all, although he had never really believed there was.

  “We’ve got a little shopping to do,” said Luther. “We’d better go as soon as we’re through eating. I want to get back to make a couple of phone calls on business before I leave, and we should start by twelve if possible.”

  Then he snatched the phone again and called a number.

  “Oh, Joe! Got the itinerary ready for me I was talking to you about last night? Can you send it over to my apartment by eleven-thirty so I’ll be sure to get it? I’m leaving around that time. Thanks awfully. I’ll be seeing you when I get back. So long!”

  What a man he was!

  They started out shopping, first getting Tim a suitcase which they carried with them. Tim all unconscious that it was for himself admired it greatly.

  Then a haberdashery, where Luther made short work of ordering more underclothes, shirts, handkerchiefs, socks. Not too many. An easy load for the suitcase, and then they went to the tailor’s and got a new suit for Tim.

  “I don’t need a suit,” said Tim. “I can get home in these things.”

  “Timothy, you’ve got to look right when you go to the hospital to see your sick mother or it will worry her,” said Luther.

  Timothy subsided and watched the process of getting fitted with shining eyes.

  “Gee! Nobody ever took such a lotta pains for me before!” he stated thoughtfully. “I wonder what ya do it for?”

  Luther smiled. “Tell you by and by when we have more time,” he promised.

  Timothy Lazarelle looked like a different lad when he was finally arrayed in his new suit, brown, his own choice, and his new hat, and overcoat. He looked at himself with a new respect and decided that he ought to act a little more in keeping with his garments. He himself elected to wear the corduroys for traveling.

  “Cause I might havta change a tire for ya or something,” he explained with a grin. “I know how ta do that.”

  “Well, say, that’ll be great!” said Luther, feeling that this kid was going to turn out to be worth while even if he was a Lazarelle. Maybe the sister wouldn’t be so bad after all, now that she’d got a Bible!

  So Luther brought him a suede jacket for cold nights driving and added a pair of gloves, though Tim rather scorned those, saying he’d never worn any. He had felt it was only sissies who wore gloves until he saw Luther draw on his big fine ones. Then he decided he’d put them on sometime, just for the experience.

  They took their purchases upstairs and finished packing, Timothy proudly, for he had never before been privileged to pack his things. Indeed he had seldom had very much to pack. He was going home in state, just as he would have chosen to go had he planned it all, only it wasn’t quite fair, because he wasn’t doing it himself. He had thought some day to go home after he had a good job and was doing well, and let them all see what he had done by himself. But now instead he was finding out that there was such a thing as grace, favor. It was by the favor of this man Luther that he was going home proudly, like any young fellow who had a regular father and a family that cared. Well, anyway, perhaps they wouldn’t bawl him out so much for going. Gee! He wished there wasn’t a prospect of a funeral at the other end of this journey. It didn’t seem like mom to stage a funeral. A box of chocolates was much more typical of her than a funeral. However, maybe she’d get well after she stopped crying.

  They ate a brief lunch in the restaurant downstairs, and then went up for their things. Timothy gave a quick glance about the pleasant room where he had spent such a happy night, wondering if he would ever see it again. Anyway, he meant to have one like it some day if all went well with him.

  Then they went down and found the car waiting for them, and stowing their luggage and themselves in started away into what was to Timothy the most notable day of his life so far.

  The last thing that Luther did before he left his room was to call up the Silverthorn house, taking a chance that Link might be at home.

  Link wasn’t there but McRae was, and he talked to her a minute or two.

  “Rae, this is Lute. Link there? No, I was afraid he wouldn’t be. I’ll tell you. You won’t mind passing on a message. Tell Link we’re starting now, as soon as I hang up. Tell him we’re taking my car so we can make better time. The railroad is a dinkey affair, and no connections. The boy is okay. We’re going to be good friends. Tell Link to be praying, and you too, McRae! We’ll be needing a lot of it, I suspect. Good-bye. Tell Link I’ll be keeping in touch with him. Say, McRae, what about you writing Minnie a letter. Wouldn’t that be a good idea?”

  “Yes, I will, Luther,” came McRae’s answer, “but don’t forget that she has a new name now. That might be important, too.”

  “Yes, I’ll remember. Erminie, isn’t it? Yes, I won’t forget!” Luther hung up the phone, and hurried away with Timothy.

  Carey Carewe was spending the day with McRae Silverthorn, hoping to get a little line on what Link was doing now, and she was most curious about that phone call.

  “Who on earth was that, McRae? Not Luther Waite? Didn’t I hear you call him ‘Lutie’? Where is he going now, and who is this Erminie person you were talking about? A new girl? Don’t tell me Luther Waite has a girl at last? Who is she?”

  “Oh, nothing like that, Carey!” laughed McRae. “Luther is just starting out on a wonderful expedition. I think it is a very remarkable thing he is doing, a triumph of grace over human nature, considering what a dislike he’s always had for her.”

  “What is it, McRae? You know I’ve been out of the world for the last three weeks and don’t know a think about people.”

  “Well, you remember Minnie Lazarelle?”

  “Sure I remember her. Can anybody forget her? My goodness, she hasn’t turned up again, has she? I declare if I were the Hollises I’d do something about her. I wouldn’t be pestered that way any longer.”

  McRae’s face grew little grave, but she went quietly on with what she was saying.

  “No, she hasn’t turned up here, but word came back to us that when she got home she found her stepmother very ill and that her fourteen year old stepbrother had run away in this direction, supposedly coming back to their old home, and the mother was grieving for him. They couldn’t get any trace of him anywhere, so she asked us if we should see him would we tell him how sick his mother was, and how he ought to come home at once, for the doctor said she wasn’t going to get well.”

  “For pity’s sake! That’s just like her to go and put herself and all her family troubles on the Silverthorns. I don’t see how you stand for so much I declare. I should think you would
just have told her you couldn’t bother. She’s the most presumptuous person I ever saw. Why didn’t she just put it into the hands of the police? They have people to look up lost numbers don’t they. I’m sure I don’t see why you should be hampered with a thing like that. A little untrained animal that has run away. But at that I don’t see how Luther Waite got into it.”

  “Why, Luther heard about it and he has been very much interested to find that boy. He has employed a detective, and they have hunted everywhere for several weeks, with no sign of the boy, until last night when he came into that mission that Luther is so much interested in. And Luther discovered who he was and is taking him home to his mother. They are just starting. Lutie wanted Link to know they were on their way. He wanted us to pray for them.”

  “Of all things! Taking him home! A big boy like that! Couldn’t he be trusted to go by himself? I think that is carrying things much too far, even for Lutie. You say he doesn’t like that girl? Well, I certainly doubt it if he is willing to go down there for her. But where in the world does he get the time, and the money to do things like that? Is he expecting you folks to pay for it all? He probably won’t get even thanks from the Lazarelles. What in the world is the matter with Lutie anyway? Why doesn’t he get himself a job and get to work and earn real money himself. He’s lots of un of course at a party, but nobody would ever take him seriously, not till he gets down to work to make a name and a place in the world for himself.”

  McRae looked at her friend in astonishment.

  “Why, what in the world do you mean, Carey? A job! Don’t you know who Luther is? Didn’t you know he was the real head of the great Wendling Power Plant that is one of the richest and best known firms in the city? Didn’t you know that his Uncle George Wendling has been training him all these years to take his place and that George Wendling just died about a year ago and Luther came into a big fortune? It goes into the millions, I don’t know just how many. I think Luther would be rather amused at your idea of his lack of industry.”

  “McRae! What do you mean? Where did you get a tale like that, McRae? You must have been dreaming dreams. I’m quite sure you are mistaken. A young man with millions would never waste his time going down to the slums singing in prayer meetings. If that is true why do you think he does such silly things as that? Why doesn’t he buy himself a yacht and go around the world, or have a string of polo ponies and have himself a time? I think you are all a crazy lot anyway. But even if that were all true what you have told me, it doesn’t answer why Lutie goes off with a little blackguard of a runaway, whose sister is a pest if there ever was one. Why do you think he would do a thing like that, McRae?”

  “He does it for the glory of God, Carey,” said McRae with a quiet look of radiance. “Luther loves to win souls for Christ, and he sees a chance to help that boy.”

  “Well, who is paying for it? Answer me that?”

  “I wouldn’t really know,” said McRae, “but knowing Luther as well as I do I suppose he is paying for it, at least for the present.”

  “Wasting his money on a thankless job like that! It is piteous!” said Carey. “That’s what I told Link not long ago. It would be a great deal better for Lutie and Link, too, to make more money and pay some poor impecunious theological student to go down in the slums and preach.”

  McRae looked up quickly.

  “Did you tell my brother that?” she said.

  “Yes, I did!” said Carey. “I thought it was time someone made him see straight.”

  “Oh,” said McRae, “that explains!”

  “Explains what, McRae?”

  “Oh, several things that I haven’t understood lately.”

  Carey studied her friend for a minute or two and then she said:

  “About me and Link?”

  “Yes, some of them.”

  “Well,” said Carey haughtily, “I’m not a fanatic, and I always like my friends to understand that.”

  “Yes?” said McRae. “Perhaps it’s just as well.”

  Just then Link arrived and after pleasant greetings they all settled down again to talk, and Carey said:

  “Say, look here, Link, McRae has just been telling me something extraordinary about Luther Waite. She says he’s wealthy. Is that true?”

  “Why yes, Carey. Didn’t you know that?”

  “No, I didn’t. You never one of you said anything about it, and Luther himself never acted as if he had a thing. I don’t see why I never heard it.”

  “Was it so important?” laughed Link. “I don’t think Lutie feels that it is.”

  “Well, I think it’s very important. It ranks him in a very common class with common people when you don’t know that.”

  “How so, Carey?” asked Link. “I never felt that way about him. I like Lutie for himself, not his money, and I supposed all our crowd did. I think it’s a grand thing to be a rich man and rise above his riches the way Lutie has.”

  “Well, I don’t!” said Carey vexedly. “What does he do with his money? A man with riches has a right to make the world better for them, to show a good time to all his friends, and do wonderful different things that other people can’t afford to do.”

  “Well, that’s exactly what Lute is doing,” said Link. “Do you know how many missions he is supporting? Do you know how many hundreds of Bibles he is sending out? Do you know how many missionaries he is supporting?”

  “Oh, missionaries!” said Carey contemptuously. “What are missionaries?”

  “They are the messengers of the Lord Jesus Christ,” said Link gravely. “They are about the most important thing in the world. They are Christ’s witnesses to the ends of the earth.”

  “Oh, well, I’m not a fanatic like you, thank goodness!” said Carey with a laugh. “Come on! Let’s go out and play tennis! It’s gorgeous weather.”

  McRae looked up thoughtfully at her brother, deciding that she knew now why Link didn’t go to see Carey Carewe any more, and in her heart she was glad. Not Carey Carewe! She wasn’t the one for her dear brother. She was glad she understood.

  Chapter 17

  Steve Grant sent word home at last that he had got the commission he had gone after, and a few weeks training would probably see him on his way abroad to enter the army.

  His mother shed quiet tears as she went about her daily tasks, and his father and Curlin went gravely through their days, waiting for the outcome, wondering what Steve was doing in his spare time. Curlin was hoping he was not keeping up a correspondence with Mysie, or anyone like her.

  Then one day there came a special delivery air mail letter from him.

  Dear folks:

  I am sailing next week for foreign shores. This is just to tell you that I have been married, and am bringing my wife to greet you before we go. You’ll like her, I know. Mother will love her. I guess you all will.

  I didn’t think she ought to go with me, but she is pure gold and has wangled it to go as a Red Cross nurse or something like that.

  Here’s hoping you will all be happy over this, I am,

  Your bad boy with love,

  Steve

  They read the letter aloud, and then looked at each other with stricken eyes. The one thought was in all their minds. Who was this wife that Steve had married? Poor Steve! Had he spoiled his life already? For they all knew the danger he had been in before he left home. Oh, of course his father and mother did not know Mysie by name, had never seen her, but they knew that there was someone who was exceedingly questionable, and they were frantic with fear.

  About the middle of the morning Curlin took the letter over to McRae. He hated to do it. If McRae cared for Steve in the way he was afraid she did it would seem to him almost like stabbing her. But she would have to see Steve when he came, and it was much better that she should be prepared.

  So he went over with a face like a death’s head, and sat with her as she worked at some sewing.

  “We’ve had a letter from Steve!” he said in a sorrowful tone.

  McRae looke
d up fearfully.

  “Oh! Is it that girl again?” she said as she took the letter he handed her.

  “I—don’t—know—” he answered lamely. “He’s married, McRae!”

  “Married?” she said giving Curlin a startled glance.

  Then she read the letter, and considered it carefully before she looked up, a faint little hopeful smile in her eyes.

  “Don’t look that way, Curlin dear,” she said earnestly. “It may not be so bad. Of course she’s been divorced, and you couldn’t like that part, but I guess we’ve nothing to do with it now it’s done. That’s Steve’s business, and God’s. But if he’s married he’s married, and you’ve got to accept it in a right way. Cheer up, Curlin. We don’t even know it’s Mysie!”

  “Who else could it be?” said Curlin in a doleful voice. “She isn’t the kind of girl who lets go easily, I could see that. She’s probably been up there with him making hay while the sun shines. That’s her method.”

  McRae was still for an instant, her eyes thoughtful.

  “Listen, Curlin. You remember we’ve been praying about this, all of us together, bringing that promise that where two of you agree it shall be done, and we’ve all been saying ‘Nevertheless, Thy will be done.’ So if this is our answer it must be God’s will. It must somehow work out to His glory.”

  “How could that Mysie thing work out for God’s glory?” asked Curlin indignantly.

  “I don’t know, Curlin. But you know in the Bible God did use people that weren’t His own. Perhaps God can use Mysie in a wonderful way for Steve’s good, and God’s glory. It may be Steve had to learn some lesson that could only be learned through this very experience. Some lesson that is going to get Steve ready for the Lord’s return, that is going to polish him, and make him conform to the image of God’s Son. After all that’s what we want for Steve. And we meant it when we prayed ‘Thy will be don,’ didn’t we?”