The Island of Faith

by Margaret E. Sangster

  XV

  A SOLUTION

  As Rose-Marie left the Volsky flat--Ella had begged her to go; hadassured her that it would be better to leave Mrs. Volsky to herinarticulate grief--her brain was in a whirl. Things had happened, in thelast few hours, with a kaleidoscopic rapidity--the whirl of events hadleft her mind in a dazed condition. She told herself, over and over, thatElla was saved. But she found it hard to believe that Ella would everfind happiness, despite her salvation, in the grim tenement that was herhome. She told herself that Bennie was learning to travel the rightroad--that the Scout Club would be the means of leading him to otherclubs and that the other clubs would, in time, introduce him toSunday-school and to the church. She told herself that Mrs. Volsky waswilling to try; very willing to try! But of what avail would be Bennie'sgrowing faith and idealism if he had to come, night after night, to thehome that was responsible for men like Jim--and like Pa?

  Pa! Rose-Marie realized with a new sense of shock that Pa was no longer aforce to reckon with. Pa was dead--had been crushed by a truck. Neveragain would he slouch drunkenly into the flat, never again would he throwsoiled clothing and broken bottles and heavy shoes into newly tidiedcorners. He was dead and he had--after all--been the one link that tiedthe Volskys to their dingy quarters! With Pa gone the family could seekcleaner, sweeter rooms--rooms that would have been barred to the familyof a drunkard! With Pa gone the air would clear, magically, of some ofits heaviness.

  Rose-Marie, telling herself how much the death of Pa was going to benefitthe Volsky family, felt all at once heartless. She had been brought up inan atmosphere where death carries sorrow with it--deep sorrow andsanctity. She remembered the dim parlours of the little town when therewas a funeral--she remembered the singing of the village choir and thevoice of the pastor, slightly unsteady, perhaps, but very confident ofthe life hereafter. She remembered the flowers, and the mourners in theirblack gowns, and the pure tears of grief. She had always seen folk meetdeath so--meet it rather beautifully.

  But the passing of Pa! She shuddered to think of its cold cruelty--it wasrather like his life. He had been snuffed out--that was all--snuffed out!There would be for him no dim parlour, no singing choir, no pastor withan unsteady voice. The black-robed mourners would be absent, and so wouldthe flowers. His going would cause not a ripple in the life of thecommunity--it would bring with it better opportunities for his family,rather than a burden of sorrow!

  "I can't grieve for him!" Rose-Marie told herself desperately. "I can'tgrieve for him! It's the only chance he ever gave to hischildren--_dying_! Perhaps, without him, they'll be able to makegood...."

  She was crossing the park--splashed with sunshine, it was. And suddenlyshe remembered the first time that she had met Bennie in the park. Itseemed centuries away, that first meeting! She remembered how she hadbeen afraid, then, of the crowds. Now she walked through them with acertain assurance--_she belonged_. She had come a long distance sincethat first meeting with Bennie--a very long distance! She told herselfthat she had proved her ability to cope with circumstance--had proved herworth, almost. Why, now, should the Superintendent keep her always in theshadow of the Settlement House--why should the Young Doctor laugh at herdesire to help people? She had something to show them--she could flauntBennie before their eyes, she could quote the case of Ella; she couldproduce Mrs. Volsky, broken of spirit but ready to do anything that shecould. And--last but not least--she would show Lily to them, Lily who hadbeen hidden away from the eyes of the ones who could help her--Lily whoso desperately needed help!

  All at once Rose-Marie was weary of deceit. She would be glad--ever soglad--to tell her story to the Superintendent! She was tired of going outfurtively of an afternoon to help these folk that she had come to help.She wanted to go in an open way--with the stamp of approval upon her. TheSuperintendent had said, once, that she would hardly be convincing to thepeople of the slums. With the Volsky family to show, she could prove thatshe had been convincing, very convincing!

  With a singing heart she approached the Settlement House. With a smile onher lips she went up the brownstone steps, pushed wide the door--whichwas never locked. And then she hurried, as fast as her feet could hurry,to the Superintendent's tiny office.

  The Superintendent was in. She answered Rose-Marie's knock with a cheeryword, but, when the girl entered the room, she saw that theSuperintendent's kind eyes were troubled.

  "What's the matter?" she questioned, forgetting, for a moment, thebusiness of which she had been so full. "What's the matter? You look everso worried!"

  The Superintendent's tired face broke into a smile.

  "Was I looking as woe-begone as that?" she queried. "I didn't realizethat I was. Nothing serious is the matter, dear--nothing very serious!Only Katie's sister in the old country is ill--and Katie is going home tostay with her. And it's just about impossible to get a good maid,nowadays--it seems as if Katie has been with me for a lifetime. I expectthat we'll manage, somehow, but I don't just fancy cooking and sweeping,and running the Settlement House, too!"

  All at once an idea leaped, full-blown, into the brain of Rose-Marie. Sheleaned forward and laid her hand upon the Superintendent's arm.

  "I wonder," she asked excitedly, "if you'd consider a woman with afamily to take Katie's place? The family isn't large--just a small boywho goes to school, and a small girl, and an older girl who is working.There's a grown son, but he can take care of himself..." the last shesaid almost under her breath. "He can take care of himself. It would bebetter, for them--"

  The Superintendent was eyeing Rose-Marie curiously.

  "We have plenty of sleeping-rooms on the top floor," she said slowly,"and I suppose that the older girl could help a bit, evenings. Why, yes,perhaps a family might solve the problem--it's easier to keep a womanwith children than one who is," she laughed, "heart-whole and fancy free!Who are they, dear, and how do you happen to know of them?"

  Rose-Marie sat down, suddenly, in a chair beside the Superintendent'sdesk. All at once her knees were shaky--all at once she felt strangelyapprehensive.

  "Once," she began, and her voice quivered slightly, "I met a little boy,in the park. He was hurting a kitten. I started to scold him and thensomething made me question him, instead. And I found out that he washurting the kitten because he didn't know any better--think of it,_because he didn't know any better_! And so I was interested, ever sointerested. And I decided it was my duty to know something of him--tofind out what sort of an environment was responsible for him."

  The Superintendent's tired face was alight She leaned forward to aska question.

  "How long ago," she questioned, "did you meet this child, in the park?"

  Rose-Marie flushed. The time, suddenly, seemed very long to her.

  "It was the day that I came home bringing a little gray cat with me," shesaid. "It was the day that I quarreled with Dr. Blanchard at the luncheontable. Do you remember?"

  The Superintendent smiled reminiscently. "Ah, yes, I remember!" shesaid. And then--"Go on with the story, dear."

  Rose-Marie went on.

  "I found the place where he lived," she said hurriedly. "Yes--I know thatyou wouldn't have let me go if you'd known about it! That's why I didn'ttell you. I found the place where he lived; an unspeakable tenement on anunspeakable street. And I met, there, his family--a most remarkablefamily! There was a mother, and an older sister, and an older brother,and a drunken father, and a little crippled girl...."

  And then, shaking inwardly, Rose-Marie told the story of the Volskys. Shetold it well; better than she realized. For the Superintendent's eyesnever left her face and--at certain parts of the story--theSuperintendent's cheeks grew girlishly pink. She told of the saving ofElla--she told of Bennie, explaining that he was the same child whom theYoung Doctor had met in the hall. She told of Mrs. Volsky's effort tobetter herself, and of Jim's snake-like smoothness. And then she told ofLily--Lily with her almost unearthly beauty and her piteous physicalcondition. As she told of Lily the Superintendent's kind eyes f
illed withtears, and her lips quivered.

  "Oh," she breathed, "if only something could be done for her--if onlysomething could be done! Billy Blanchard must see her at once--he's donemarvellous things with the crippled children of the neighbourhood!"

  With a feeling of sudden confidence Rose-Marie smiled. She realized thatshe had caught the Superintendent's interest--and her sympathy. It wouldbe easier, now, to give the family their chance! Her voice was more calmas she went on with the narrative. It was only when she told of the deathof Pa that her lips trembled.

  "You'll think that I'm hard and callous," she said, "taking his death soeasily. But I can't help feeling that it's for the best. They could neverhave broken away--not with him alive. _You_ would never have taken themin--if he had had to be included! You couldn't have done it.... But now,"her voice was aquiver with eagerness, "now, say that they may come! Saythat Mrs. Volsky may take Katie's place. Oh, I know that she isn't veryneat; that she doesn't cook as we would want her to. But she can learnand, free from the influence of her husband and son, I'm sure she'llchange amazingly. Say that you'll give the family a chance!"

  The Superintendent was wavering. "I'm not so sure," she began, andhesitated. "I'm not so sure--"

  Rose-Marie interrupted. Her voice was very soft.

  "It will mean," she said, "that Lily will be here, under the doctor'scare. It will mean that she will get well--perhaps! For her sake givethem a chance...."

  The Superintendent's eyes were fixed upon space. When she spoke, shespoke irrelevantly.

  "Then," she said, "that was where you went every afternoon--to thetenement. You weren't out with some man, after all?"

  Rose-Marie hung her head. "I went to the tenement every afternoon," sheadmitted, "to the _tenement_. Oh, I know that you're angry with me--Iknow it. And I don't in the least blame you. I've been deceitful, I've_sneaked_ away when your back was turned, I've practically told lies toyou! Don't think," her voice was all a-tremble, "don't think that Ihaven't been sorry. I've been tremendously sorry ever so many times. I'vetried to tell you, too--often. And I've tried to make you think my way.Do you remember the talk we had, that night when we were both so tired,in your sitting-room--before Dr. Blanchard came? I was trying to scrapeup the courage to tell you, then, but you so disagreed with me that Ididn't dare!"

  The Superintendent seemed scarcely to be listening. There seemed to besomething upon her mind.

  "Rose-Marie," she said with a mock sternness, "you're evading myquestions. Answer me, child! Isn't there any one that you--care for?Weren't you out with some man?"

  Rose-Marie was blushing furiously.

  "No," she admitted, "I wasn't out with a man. I never had any sort of asweetheart, not ever! I just let you all think that I was with some onebecause--if I hadn't let you think that way--you might have made me stayin. I wouldn't have made a point of deliberately telling you afalsehood--but Dr. Blanchard gave me the idea and "--defiantly--"I justlet him think what he wanted to think!"

  The Superintendent was laughing.

  "What he _wanted_ to think!" she exclaimed. "Oh, Rose-Marie--you've a lotto answer for! What he wanted to think...." Suddenly the laugh died outof her voice, all at once she was very serious. "Perhaps," she saidslowly, "your idea about the Volsky family is a good one. We'll try itout, dear! There was a MAN, once, Who said: 'Suffer the little childrento come--'Why, Rose-Marie, what's the matter?" For Rose-Marie, her facehidden in the crook of her elbow, was crying like a very tired child.