Happiness Hill

by Grace Livingston Hill

  “Okay,” said Sherwood in a comradely tone.

  “Tom!” said Jane rebukingly as the two cars started on again and Sherwood’s flivver fell behind, “you oughtn’t call Mr. Sherwood ‘John’! He’s older than you. He won’t like it at all. It’s awfully rude of you to be so familiar when you hardly know him.”

  “What makes you think he won’t like it?” growled Tom. “He told me to call him that. Said he’d feel a lot happier and more one of us if I did. Gee! Do ya think I haven’t got any sense at all, Jin? He’s a prince, that guy is. He’s got more sense in his little finger than that coddled egg you let come around has in his whole fancy body.”

  “Tom, I don’t think you should talk that way, as if I owned Mr. Lauderdale. He’s merely one of the men I met this summer. I didn’t ask him to come.”

  “Lauderdale! Lauderdale! Great cats! Is that his name? What’s his first name? I’ll bet it’s Arch-ee-bald, or Ethel-bert or something like that. Come now, own up, isn’t it?”

  “No,” said Jane crossly, trying to look dignified. “They call him Lew, I believe.”

  “You believe!” mimicked the brother. “As if you didn’t know! Lew! Well, I’ll bet it isn’t Lewis. He’d never be named plain Lewis, not on a bet!”

  “It’s Llewellyn,” said Jane coldly. “I heard someone say he was named after his uncle General Llewellyn.”

  “I thought so. I’d have just gambled on that. Lee-well-lyn! Lee- well-lyn Lauderdale! Can you beat it? ‘Lee-well-lyn! Oh, Lee-well- lyn!’” he cried like an imaginary mother. “‘Come right in here and wash your little hands! Oh, Lee-well-lyn! Come put on your little shirty-wirty.’ That’s the way they used to call him! Can you beat it? Lee-well-lyn! Dear little coddled egg!”

  His tone and his manner were inimitable, and Jane, though she was angry, had to laugh in spite of herself, for Tom was handling the wheel delicately with thumb and finger, and letting the car go zigzagging from side to side crazily.

  Then up rose Betty Lou. “Tom Arleth, you stop that! You’re scaring Mother and waking her up!”

  Tom steadied the car instantly and glanced apologetically back. “It’s all right, Mudge! I was just showing off one of Sister’s beaux.”

  “I should think you’d be ashamed to make my sister look like that, Tom Arleth,” said the little sister indignantly. “You’ve almost made her cry!”

  “Aw, cry nothing! You don’t suppose she’d cry for that little simp, do you? If I thought she would, I’d beat the dust out of him. He’s not fit to look at her!”

  “Tom, you know absolutely nothing about that man except that you saw him once under very trying circumstances. He’s really very nice indeed, and everybody who knows him well likes him. He’s immensely rich. He owns three frightfully expensive cars. He’s a fine tennis and golf player. He owns a yacht and a castle in England and an estate on the Hudson. He goes to Europe whenever he likes, and they say he’s a very fine polo player. I should think some of those things might appeal to you. Besides all that, he’s been very nice to your sister. I should think at least you might refrain from being rude to him.”

  “I? Rude to him? Great cats! That’s a good one. I never spoke two words to him or he to me.”

  “You were very rude to him the other day when I introduced you to him. You just stood there and glared at him as if he were an enemy!”

  “I? Glared? Well, what if I did? He didn’t see me any more than if I’d been the dust under his feet. He could at least shake hands with a man when he’s introduced. I don’t care what he owns or what he can play, he’s not fit for my sister, and I’m telling you! I know a man when I see him, and I don’t like his fancy mug!”

  “Well, keep still for pity’s sake, you’re waking Mother again,” said Jane crossly. And then for a long time she sat considering what her brother had said, angry with him, yet wondering why she was not angrier.

  At last she cast it from her like a burden. Why worry about it? She was going away from the young man in question. She would probably not see him again soon. Or if he did turn up on Monday at the office, at least Tom would not be there. And Tom was only a kid. If he ever really met Lew Lauderdale, he would certainly admire him as did others. Boys at Tom’s age always had a lot of odd prejudices, and just now he was interested in Sherwood, and that was something to be greatly thankful for. What if she should pitch into Tom about the girl he had been going with? How well would he stand it? There was something altogether amusing under the circumstances in having Tom begin to lecture her about her friends. But brothers always thought they could lord it over their sisters, even if they were older than themselves.

  In the car behind, a quiet, enlightening conversation was going on. Little by little without the older man’s suspecting it for a minute, Sherwood was finding out the story of Arleth’s life and struggles, how he had had a splendid business of his own when he married and while the children were young, and how suddenly through a trusted friend he had lost everything and had to take a salaried position. Oh, there was no connected story, just a reference here and there to something in the past, a casual question asked and briefly answered, and the keen young gray eyes watched and seemed not to see but pieced it all together.

  “Well, I’m thankful to be almost on my feet again,” said the elder man, smothering a sigh over the past. “I’ve got to get back to my job Monday. Of course, the doctor thought I ought to wait a few days longer, but he doesn’t understand. You see, my job needs me. Nobody else understands all the details, and I’m holding things up in the office every day by my absence.”

  “Oh, but surely they would not want you to return till you are thoroughly well,” protested the young man. “I wouldn’t worry if I were you. They’ll find someone to take your place till you return.”

  “Yes, I’m afraid they will,” said Arleth, sighing now and taking on that gray look that Sherwood had noticed several times. “That’s the reason I must go back Monday without fail. You see—I’m confiding in you now, Mr. Sherwood, because you’ve been so kind, but I’ll ask you to keep the matter strictly to yourself. I wouldn’t like my wife or children to know, because they might worry. But I have known for several months that one of the firm would like to get my position for his son just lately out of college. I don’t think the other partner of the firm is so keen for it, and as long as I do my work without cause for criticism I’m rather sure of being kept on for years perhaps, because the senior partner of the firm is a good friend of mine; but just let me show signs of failing and the younger partner is going to set up a protest that will make it mighty hard going for me. So you see, it really means that I’ve got to be there. You can readily see, I’m sure, that it would do me almost more physical harm to stay away and worry about it, than to go and keep my end of the ship sailing properly.”

  “I see your position,” said Sherwood thoughtfully, “but I can’t think you should go back till you are thoroughly strong and able. Not till this heat wave is broken anyway. That isn’t the only position in the world. Couldn’t somebody go and explain the situation to them? Couldn’t your son? Or your daughter? Or a stranger perhaps? Couldn’t I? I’d be glad to be of service to you.”

  “You’re very kind,” said the older man, passing a thin hand over his eyes with a weary expression, “but I’d rather go back. It would really be better. I can’t afford to lose even the small salary I’m getting.”

  Arleth spoke sadly, with a sigh.

  “At my age I suppose I shouldn’t hope for anything better,” he went on, “but it really doesn’t make ends meet and gives no chance at all to lay by for a rainy day. They have been holding out hopes of a substantial raise for two years now, told me they knew I deserved it, that my work was splendid, but—times are bad, and I haven’t dared to press it….” His voice trailed off.

  “Nonsense!” said Sherwood. “You are just in your prime! With your experience you should be invaluable. But I still think you should get thoroughly well and have a clean ticket from the doctor b
efore you attempt to go back. However, if I were you I wouldn’t let that question trouble me at all today or tomorrow. By Sunday night you may be feeling so well that you’ll be able to remove mountains, who knows? And there may be a cold wave on its way that will knock this weather into a cocked hat. So, a lot of things may happen. This is your day. Let’s take it! Now, tell me about that business you used to have. How did you get started in it? I’m a young man and have my way to make. I should think you might be able to give me a lot of good advice. Unless it tires you to talk.”

  “Oh no,” said Arleth, resting back among the cushions. “It’s pleasant to go over old times, even the hard times. But, ah, you can’t imagine what it means to me to look at my wife and know that I took her from a home where she had everything, and I’ve brought her—to Flora Street!” The earnest voice faltered. “Why, sir. I’ve got to make good yet somehow! I’ve simply got to pull up! I’m not an old man yet!”

  “Certainly not!” said Sherwood earnestly, studying the sweet strong face with the keen young eyes.

  “My wife was just the image of Jane when I married her,” went on the reminiscent voice of the older man. “She wore slim white dresses and flowers. I used to buy her flowers when I was prosperous. The younger children don’t remember those times. The trouble hit us when Betty Lou was a baby. But you asked a question about my business. It was this way…” And he launched into details of business that showed a mind of unusual ability. And as he talked, the young gray eyes that studied his face searched deep beneath the man’s words and found the whole tragedy that was being pleasantly kept in the background from stranger eyes.

  “Oh, I could have gone into bankruptcy and saved myself, of course, and got on my feet again pretty soon, but I couldn’t see doing that. It wasn’t my fault nor my mistake, of course, but the responsibility was mine because I was in partnership with a rascal. I couldn’t see others losing through what had been done, even if it wasn’t my fault. Mother felt so, too, so we paid it all, every cent, and we’ve had clean thoughts and no burdens of that sort. Mary sold the house we were living in that her father had given her for a wedding present—it was hers, of course, and she could have kept it, but she wouldn’t—and we bought the Flora Street cottage. But we had sickness and a lot of trouble, too—we lost one child after a long illness. It took the most rigid economy to live through those times and keep up the payments regularly on the old debts. But the last one was paid three months ago and now we’re free to start again.”

  “You’ve been through a lot!” said the young man sympathetically.

  “Well, I guess we all have to pass through trouble. As I see it, the Lord sees we need testing, and if we don’t get it one way we do another. It isn’t trouble, not if we’re looking to Him for guidance, it’s just testing. Everything has to be tested, you know, before it’s fit for use. He’s going to use us, someday—up there—or maybe down here first. It’s all just like a school, you know—examination tests. Did you ever think of it? Examinations don’t do the teacher one bit of good, it’s all for the scholar. He has to find out what he doesn’t know. He has to be shown up to himself. Isn’t that right?”

  “Sounds true. I never thought of it before,” said Sherwood. “A man who has stood tests of character ought to be a pretty good man to tie up to in business or anywhere else.”

  “Well, the Man I’ve tied up to stood His tests. The Lord Jesus took His testing and stood it for me, and should I expect to escape? Oh, He’s a great Man to tie up to!”

  The keen eyes looked at the other man with surprise. “You’re a—Christian—then?” he said thoughtfully. “Your troubles didn’t turn you away from God?”

  “Oh no,” said Arleth with a smile that carried the impression of a deep peace within. “We just knew that everything that came to us had to come first through the Father’s hands, and if He allowed it, there was good in it somewhere and we wanted His will to be done in us. It isn’t, of course, as if this were our permanent home, this earth, it’s only a tarrying place. When we get Home it’s going to be Heaven! Real HOME. He’s going to be there!”

  There was such a light in the strong noble face as Arleth said this that Sherwood was silent, marveling.

  “But we’ve had a lot of joy,” went on Arleth after a moment. “You see, Flora Street wasn’t so bad when we first went out there. We were the first house in the neighborhood, and there were trees on some of the land and shade for the children to play under, till the city began to come out that way. It was hard to have neighbors so close of course, but we’ve had a chance to help some of them and that was good. Then of course there was the pavement to lay in front of the house, and gas and water, and then electricity. But we managed them all. And our children have been great! They’ve taken hold and helped every step of the way as fast as they were able. Of course, I’d like to see Tom getting more education, but perhaps that’ll come later, and maybe he’ll appreciate it even more then. Oh, we haven’t had bad times, and I’m satisfied we’ll always be taken care of. We have His promise you know, ‘I have been young and am now old; yet have I not seen the righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging bread.’ Of course, we aren’t righteous in ourselves, only through the cleansing of His blood. His righteousness about us brings us under this promise, and I know He’s going to take care of us.”

  “I’m glad to hear you talk that way,” said the young man. “I never heard anyone put it quite that way. My mother taught me to pray when I was a kid, and I know she had great faith, but the people I’ve come in contact with lately don’t have much use for God. But now, tell me, along what line has your work been these last few years? Have you had full charge of your department? Are you suited to managing men, or was your work all detail?”

  And so the talk drifted into business once more.

  Once, during the conversation, as Sherwood grasped the importance of the older man’s position in his company, he burst out, “Why man, you should be getting twenty thousand a year. I knew that your firm had the name of being close, but this is absurd!”

  “I know it,” answered Arleth patiently, as if it were an oft- debated, long-settled subject with him. “But you see, this company was one of my former creditors, and knowing how I felt about the debt, they have used my conscience to their own advantage.”

  Sherwood’s lips settled again into that hard mature line that Jane had often noticed, but he said no more about money and finally called a halt on talking, saying he had orders to make his companion take a nap at this time.

  The patient laughed and, putting his head back, closed his eyes and began to breathe deeply.

  Sherwood studied furtively the strength of the face beside him, marveling at the faith and courage of the man whose story had so deeply touched him. Not yet old in years, there was gray in the blackness of his hair, blue veins in the delicacy of the temples, and gray shadows under the bright tiredness of his eyes, but there was a settled serenity about the whole fine face that few of the men Sherwood had met in the world had ever worn.

  As he watched his sleeping companion, he could trace a look of Jane in the features, and he no longer wondered at her unusualness with such a father as this. Tests! he thought. How would I stand such tests as this man has passed through?

  Chapter 8

  The villages had disappeared, and scrub oak had taken possession of the landscape. White sand appeared at the side of the road, and a wide stretch of low woods with a tiny glimmer of a toy lake now and then.

  Suddenly the hot, shimmering air that had beaten in their faces turned cooler, and a tang of salt came into the little breezes that the car stirred up.

  “Oh!” said Jane, sitting straighter and looking ahead. “The sea! We must be almost there!”

  “The sea!” said Betty Lou, starting up to look. “Where?”

  And then they swept around a curve, where the trees were cleared away, and in the near distance they could see a far-stretching line of horizon and gray mist with a hint of blue sparkle beneath
. And those tall spike-like things! “Are those masts?” questioned Betty Lou.

  Under a group of tall pines that happened along by the roadside, Tom pulled up. The other flivver drew in and parked close enough for hands to touch across the running boards.

  “We thought we’d eat here,” said Tom. “It isn’t far now, and it’s almost noon. How’s Dad?”

  “I’m in fine shape,” said the father, sitting up and opening his eyes. “I smell salt in the air, don’t I? Mary, does this remind you of our wedding trip, this smell?”

  “It does!” said the old bride, sitting up, straightening her hair. “I remember just how it looked and how I felt the first time I ever saw the sea.”

  And now Sherwood had a chance to get a good look at the mother and found her as satisfying as the father had been. Brown eyes, tired and sweet and strong, gold hair like Betty Lou’s, only streaked with silver, delicate features, and pretty, even yet, with her old hat awry, her hair blown about, and the soft smudges under her tired eyes. She looked at Sherwood and smiled, and his heart went out to her completely.

  How had Jane in the short time after office hours, and Betty Lou with her slender hands, managed to prepare a lunch like that? he wondered. Or was it the drive that had made him unusually hungry? Delicate sandwiches with ground meat between them, spiced with grated onion and bits of pickle and sweet peppers. Others with cheese and dates and nuts, a delicious variety. Hard- boiled eggs stuffed back in their whites, peppered and doctored deliciously, and wrapped in cool, crisp lettuce leaves. How had they managed to keep it crisp through the heat? Iced tea in a thermos bottle and milk for Betty Lou. Then there were little cherry tartlets and tiny frosted sponge cakes; and Sherwood added his grapes and peaches to eat with them.

  “Some lunch!” said Tom as he finished his fifth frosted cake in one bite and swallowed half a peach whole, skin and all. “Say, I feel better! Let’s go! We’ve got plenty to do before night, and I want to get a dip in that ocean. Gee, don’t that air smell good! Wouldn’t think it was ninety-nine in the shade this morning when we left, would ya?”