She was roused from her thoughts by her sister Eleanor’s words, “The idea of giving a child like you such a magnificent jeweled watch! It will never be of the least use in the world to you. It’s too fine for you to wear. Where would you ever go, to dress up enough for that? And when would you ever get the silks and velvets fine enough to wear with it? You’ll just have to consider it a medal of good behavior. Perhaps by and by, when he moves away and forgets about it, you might sell it and get something worthwhile.”
“Humph!” said Johnnie, looking at her curiously. “I bet you’d wear it quick enough wherever you went if you got it. You’d never think anything too fine for you. Gee whiz! A thing like that’s fine enough without any silks and velvets. I think I see you swelling round with it on! You better put it away carefully, Eff, or you’ll find it ‘out for the evening’ some of these fine times when Nell goes to a party.”
He was interrupted in this speech by a stinging slap on his cheek, followed by a box on his ears, and Eleanor blazed angrily at him for being an impudent little boy. In the midst of this, Effie took her beautiful watch and fled to her own room. She had been very happy but a moment before, but now her happiness was clouded. She had seen like a flash, since she turned from the window at her sister’s words, two distinct ways in which she might work out that “whatsoever things are lovely,” and she did not want to work them out. She sat down in her little rocker by the window to think and to look at the beautiful watch. That seemed to embody to her the first thing. She had seen that Eleanor liked the watch and would enjoy it very much if it were hers. Of course, she could not give it away when the gentleman had given it to her. That would not seem right, but she might lend it to her sister sometimes. That seemed a hard thing indeed to her. Her pride and her love of possession and carefulness for her watch all clamored together in her against such a proceeding. Why was it necessary? Eleanor had a watch of her own for which she had saved the money from the small handfuls that fell to her share. She never would allow Effie to wear it. In fact, Eleanor had never shown any great amount of love for Effie. Why should she put herself out for her? Ah, “whatsoever things are lovely”! If she would win love, she must be lovely. It would be lovely to give Eleanor this pleasure sometime.
She put her watch away with a sigh at last, wondering if she ever could come to that sacrifice and resolving to think it out and try to do what was right. There was yet another subject to hold her thoughts—her brother Johnnie. Could she help him in any way? He and she had always been more nearly like companions than she and Eleanor, in spite of the difference in their ages. She knew she had some influence over Johnnie. Perhaps she could win him to be a better boy. Then she thought of the words Lawrence Earle had spoken that morning about God being with you, “that God of peace,” and she remembered how many times she had heard people talk about having “the peace which passeth understanding.” How she wished she had it! How glad she would be to know and feel that the God of peace was beside her, and that she might look up to Him as she had done to the young man and ask Him to show her where to go and what to do! He would love her. She felt sure He would. Perhaps it was true that He was beside her now and this throb of something strange like a new joy was His smile as He told her He was glad she wanted His love.
In a sort of shamefaced way, she went and locked her door, drew down the window shades, knelt beside her bed, and prayed. She was not used to praying, except at night when she went to bed, and then only as a sort of form that she had kept up since babyhood. She was not quite sure that she had really prayed when she rose from her knees, uncertain whether she really ought to add an amen to such an intangible prayer as that, but in her heart she felt that in that act of kneeling and praying, she had taken the decisive step toward beginning a new life. She had meant by it to let God know she was intending to “think on these things” and wanted Him to come and be with her and show her how, and most of all, to love her. She drew up her shade and looked out the window through the green branches of the trees to the exquisite blue of the sky, and said softly to herself, “I almost believe that I love God a little, and I wonder why, because I know I did not feel so yesterday nor last night. I wonder what has made the difference. It seems as though He has sent me some kind of a message that made me know He was here.” She closed her eyes a moment, just to be glad in the thought. It was so new to her to stop and think at all, or to have anyone’s love around her in that way. Then with her characteristic quickness, she began to look around for something to do. “I must go down at once and begin,” she told herself, smiling. And a careful observer would have seen in that smile a touch of the peace that was to settle down upon her brow, more and more, as the days went by, and she went on “thinking on these things.”
She opened her bureau drawer for one more peep at the lovely jeweled thing that seemed to be so much alive, with its musical little tick going, going on all the time—her very own. And yet even in the few minutes since she laid it there, and although she prized it just as highly, it did not seem to her a selfish image of her own pleasure, but rather a token that she was beginning a different life with more joy in it. The watch might be used in God’s service now, without causing so severe a pang as a few minutes before.
Chapter 11
When Euphemia opened her door, she heard a sudden, piercing scream from the baby downstairs somewhere, and her feet fairly flew to see what was the matter. Was this an opportunity to carry out her new resolves?
As she opened the dining room door, a strange scene met her eyes. The baby was seated on the floor with something in his hands that he seemed to be fighting, while he screamed at the top of his lungs and appeared to be in mortal terror.
The cat was rolled in paper from which she was unable to free herself and was rattling frantically about the room, now landing on the top of the sewing machine and entangling herself further in a spool of silk, now arriving on the dining table that was already set for the evening meal.
Johnnie, from the porch doorway, was howling with joy, and Eleanor was laughing with all her might. Neither of them had made the slightest attempt to rescue either baby or cat. The kitchen door opened and Mrs. Martin appeared, a kettle of hot potatoes in one hand, the colander in the other, saying in an anxious voice, “What is the matter? Why don’t you do something, one of you?”
A quick investigation showed that both cat and baby had become entangled in the sheets of flypaper that the careless servant had left on a chair when she started to set the table for dinner. In such catastrophes, it was the custom in the Martin family for the children to stand by and enjoy the discomfiture of the victim until their mother came to set things right. They were running true to form this time, and so great was the power of habit that Euphemia on first sight had almost joined them in their merriment. But a glance at her mother’s face reminded her of her vision of better things, which she had just had upstairs during her few moments of communion with her unseen Guide. Instantly, she knew that here was her chance to begin her new life.
“Johnnie, catch that cat!” she cried, springing to rescue the frightened baby, who had just started to apply his face to the flypaper. “Never mind, Mother, we’ll have it all right in a minute,” she called, and then she rapidly pulled the paper from baby while she held his fat, flying fists firmly, and directed Johnnie, who had proceeded to have a regular game of catch with poor pussy to the great danger of everything breakable in the room.
The cat was frightened almost out of her nine lives. She flew from one article of furniture to another and came within a hair’s breadth of knocking over the milk pitcher and carrying the butter plate to the floor with her.
“Open the door, Johnnie,” called Effie, “and get me some water and a rag, quick. Maybe this stuff is poisonous and the baby has some of it in his mouth.”
Eleanor was aroused to help then, and they finally managed, after trying water and soap and kerosene, to get the sticky paper from the poor, pink fingers of the frightened baby. Then Effie took
him, and they went to look for the cat and Johnnie. And by and by, kitty and baby were comfortably clean, and baby was hushed to sleep. Effie felt very hot and tired, for the baby was heavy, and his struggles had made him hard to hold. She looked dubiously down at her new brown suit and found several daubs of flypaper varnish on it, and knew that it would take a vigorous cleaning to make it as good as new again. The new life wasn’t going to be all rose color after all, she perceived.
Then it was dinnertime, and she went in to be greeted by her father, with an unusual smile. “Well! So it seems our girl was very brave yesterday,” he said. “They tell me, Mother, that she hung on to that horse after it had reared and lifted her from the ground three times. There were plenty of men about, but none of them moved to help. Our little girl did it all. It’s terrible that you went through all that, Daughter, but it was a very brave thing to do. I’m proud of you! It was a great thing to be able to save a life!”
Euphemia’s cheeks grew red with the unwonted praise, and she caught her breath. So much virtue and so much praise coming to her all at once! Even more than she deserved.
“If there be any virtue, and if there be any praise,” chanted a little line in her soul, and then added, “whatsoever things are honest.”
A sudden chill came over her gladness. Ought she to tell her father that the account he had heard had been overdrawn? It was so sweet to hear his praise! And, of course, the details did not really matter. Still, “whatsoever things are honest.” Suddenly she looked up.
“I didn’t stop the horse quite alone, Father,” she said, with a clear-eyed look. “Lawrence Earle came almost immediately and put his hands over mine and held him, or he would have got away from me. He was a very strong horse. But all I did was catch him first when there was no one else near enough to reach him. I was on my bicycle, you know.”
“Oh, indeed!” said Eleanor sarcastically. “I thought they were making a terrible fuss over a little thing. I think Lawrence Earle ought to have that watch, then, instead of you.”
“Nevertheless, it was a very brave thing to do, Daughter, and you deserve all the praise anyone can give you,” said Mr. Martin. Then turning to his elder daughter, he said severely, “Eleanor, it seems to me that it ill becomes you to make remarks like that. It was Lawrence Earle himself who told me the story of the rescue. He was driving his car and was practically helpless at the critical moment. He had to stop his car and spring out, but he said that before he reached your sister’s side, the horse had reared three times, lifting her from her feet, and that it’s a miracle that she was not killed! Your criticisms are in very bad taste. You ought to be rejoicing that your sister is still alive.”
Euphemia was deeply grateful to her father, and her heart throbbed with a new love for him, but her sister’s scorn stung deep in the midst of her joy. It was a little thing, perhaps, but it hurt. Johnnie had been watching her thoughtfully, and after dinner, he said to Euphemia, “Aw, gee! Eff, whaddya go an tell that ya didn’t do it all, for? Nell has to get her old face in everywhere. I wouldn’t a given her the chance.”
“But Johnnie, it wouldn’t have been honest,” said his sister.
Johnnie gave her a quick look. “What’s the difference?” said he.
“It makes a difference, Johnnie,” she said with a sigh, thinking of all the differences she wished it would make in her.
“How long since?” he asked curiously.
“Johnnie, I’m going to try to be honest always after this. Why don’t you, too?” She said it earnestly, almost wistfully. And the boy, quick to follow a leader, and interested always to do something in partnership with someone older than himself, assented.
“All right, I will.” He evidently had no question of what would and would not be honest. He surveyed his whole life in one comprehensive glance and knew in a general way where he would have to make a change. “And say,” he added, “do you mean we’ll size up together, say every Sunday night, how we’ve done it?”
Effie foresaw trials in this proposed plan, but she also saw possibilities, and she agreed. Then she went in to see what her new Guide had for her, of work or trials or thought.
The next day looked bright ahead of her as she went to bed that night, after a last look at the dear little jeweled watch lying in its satin bed.
But she certainly would have been astonished if she could have heard what her sister, Eleanor, was saying at that very minute when she laid her head upon her pillow.
Eleanor was spending the evening with the Garner girls, and they were out on the porch talking over their unfortunate picnic.
“What do you think,” Eleanor was saying, “My sister Euphemia—”
“Your sister who?” screamed Janet Chipley. “I never heard you call her that.”
“Well, we do, a great deal,” said Eleanor. “Mother feels she is getting too old for Effie now. But what do you think? She had the velvet after all, yesterday. She didn’t get to go with us, but she had the guest of honor all to herself, and an adventure besides. I suppose you’ll hear about it tomorrow for it will likely be out in the paper, so I may as well tell you. Euphemia is very shy about mentioning it. She never said a word herself till Lawrence Earle came over and spoke about it. He and Euphemia are awfully old friends, you know. He really is responsible for my sister’s boyishness. He taught her to pitch ball, you know, when she was quite little.”
The girls were all agog, listening with bated breath and jealousy in their eyes. Had they not seen the hated Effie riding with the much coveted prize of the town? What did it all mean? And Eleanor talking in that half proud, pleased way about her sister! Oh, if Euphemia, on the way to dreamland, could just have heard and seen! But perhaps her guardian angel knew it was best not, and so drew a kindly veil for the present and sheltered her from too much uplifting praise.
But it is a pity that Johnnie, too, should have been asleep and not have been there, for Eleanor’s good, at least.
For Eleanor was enjoying not a little reflected glory from her sister’s brave deed. She sat back in the big porch rocker and swayed back and forth with satisfaction.
“Yes, indeed!” she went on, “they’ve always been quite chummy. I suppose if we had asked my sister, there wouldn’t have been any doubt but that she could have coaxed Lawrence to come with us. Strange, I had forgotten how fond he was of her.
“But you know Effie—I mean Euphemia—hasn’t the slightest idea of being set up about it all—”
“But what did she do?” interrupted Maud Bradley jealously. “You’re not telling us.”
“Do?” said Eleanor, smiling, “oh, nothing, only chased a runaway horse that was about to dash over the quarry ledge out by Brocton’s Corner and saved the life of Charles Clinton Carroll’s only son and heir! Wasn’t that some trifle? And she nearly got killed herself, incidentally. Dad and Mother are terribly upset about it. They can hardly speak about it. And Effie—I mean Euphemia—comes in as casually as possible and never tells a word.”
She waited a second for the impression to deepen, and then she went on. “It seems Lawrence had seen the runaway himself and had been chasing them, only of course he was hampered by his car, but he got there as quickly as he could—the horse was terribly frightened by the sound of the car coming after him, and all the people standing round were simply petrified with fright. And Effie—Euphemia—would certainly have been killed if Lawrence hadn’t arrived in the nick of time and just barely saved her. She was a couple of hours coming to, and Lawrence brought her home, of course. Oh, yes, she’s all right this morning, went out and played ball with Lawrence for a while, and then went off to lunch with him and his mother. Of course they begged me to go but I simply couldn’t think of leaving Mother with all there was to do this morning, and anyhow it wasn’t fair to Ef—Euphemia!”
Eleanor was making quite a case of reflected virtue and rather enjoying it. She studied the faces of her friends and saw a wave of incredulous perplexity passing over their faces. It was time to change t
he interest.
“But you ought to have seen that darling baby, little Clinton, when he came with his father to thank Eh–phemia! His mother couldn’t come, she was so overcome with the shock, so Mr. Carroll himself came; and he couldn’t say enough about E–phemia, how wonderful and brave she had been. It seems the horse lifted her clear off the ground three times, trying to shake her when he reared. It must have been frightful! It seems as if I couldn’t get it out of my mind. I couldn’t sleep a wink last night for thinking about it!”
Amazement held the tongues of her companions silent. This was an entirely new Eleanor! Was she real?
“Mrs. Carroll is coming tomorrow to thank Ef–phemia! But they sent the darlingest gift! I simply had to go out of the house not to open it when it came, Ef—she wasn’t at home you know—but of course I wouldn’t have opened it for the world till she came. That is half the fun in getting a present, to open it. Don’t you think so? Well, when she got home we all stood around and watched her, and what do you think it was? Why the darlingest platinum watch, all jeweled! It’s perfectly precious! Wait till you see it. Ef—she would have let me wear it over tonight to show you if I had asked her, but I couldn’t bring myself to—not the first night. But you’ll see it. It’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen. I’m so happy for her, I don’t know how to stand it. Isn’t it great? And it has a perfectly stunning tribute to Ef—her bravery engraved on the back. It will be something she can keep forever and hand down to her children. We’re all so pleased for her. It’s better than getting something yourself to have a thing like that happen to your sister, you know.”
And all the girls sat in wonder, and oh–ed and ah–ed, and decided that, after all, they ought to have asked Effie Martin to their picnic. How perfectly humiliating to have been left out of all that!
Chapter 12
Euphemia arose the next morning with a heart full of joyful anticipation. She seemed to be standing on the top of the world, looking over into the morning land. What was it that made life so well-worth living? Ah, she was a new creature with a new name and a new friend to help her. Two new friends, in fact. One, the God of peace who was able to keep her from falling and to present her faultless before God’s glory—His pure, righteous, searching glory! The other, the friend who had led her to that God of peace and made her understand that He was her Savior, able to save her at every turn of the way.
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