Homing

by Grace Livingston Hill

  “Oh, Mrs. Hawkins!” cried Jane in despair. “But I told you when I came I couldn’t pay any more, and you said that would be all right.”

  “Well, I know I did, but I can’t do it, I tell ya! Besides I gotta young couple will be gladta come in here an’ pay me a buck an’ a half more apiece ef I put in a double bed, an’ I guess I’ll havta do it. I ain’t runnin’ a boardin’house fer benevolence, ya know. I just thought I’d tell ya. You can think it over an’ let me know tamorra mornin’. I gotta give them an answer right away.”

  With the last word the door closed with finality and the slipshod steps went steadily on down the stairs, the workworn hand of the woman feeling her way on the wall as she went.

  Jane lay there filled with dismay. What was she going to do? Here she had just been trying to be thankful for this little smelly old room, and now even it was going to be taken away from her!

  It came to her presently to wonder about that nice place the nurse had talked to her about. Why hadn’t she asked her where it was? But then of course it would have been too expensive. Any place as cheap as this would be awful, just like this. But she’d got to do something. If she paid a dollar more to stay here that would cut out all her margin for sickness, and it looked now as if she might even be sick pretty soon if this weather kept on and she didn’t get some kind of a change.

  Well, she’d got to do something. Was there any place she could go tonight hunting a room? No, that was out of the question. She wasn’t fit to walk and she couldn’t afford carfare. She must husband her strength for tomorrow. She had to keep going tomorrow. She must get that pay envelope.

  It was even thinkable that she might be going to lose her job, dropping down in a little heap that way right in the midst of the afternoon work! Maybe they would think they didn’t want salespeople like that who could faint on them in the midst of things.

  Well, there wasn’t any use fretting. She’d better get some sleep. She wasn’t hungry. She couldn’t eat cold ham and cabbage even if she went downstairs now. She reviewed what the table would probably be like besides the ham and cabbage—and only the worst of that would be left of course. There would be bread, dry pieces that had been left over from another meal, with the mark of a greasy knife on one side. It wouldn’t be the first time that one like that had fallen to her lot. She wondered why she ever ate in that place anyway. The food in the cheap restaurants was so much better. Maybe just a room in some decent rooming house would be better, and she could take a bottle of milk and get her own breakfasts, just dry, uncooked cereal and an orange. Why hadn’t she thought to try that before? It was all an experiment. But as she thought it over she was almost glad that her landlady had raised her rent, for now she had a real excuse to hunt another place.

  Well, she would go to sleep now and get all the rest she could, and in the morning she would try and eat whatever breakfast there was, and tell her landlady she was leaving that night. Then she would go down to the store and pay for that crystal clasp, and take what money was left and find someplace to live.

  Her decision made, she fell asleep again, a restless burdened sleep, that broke toward morning and woke her into a frenzy of despair. Suppose she should give up this room and then not be able to find another at any price she could afford? Maybe she was wrong to give it up. And yet she couldn’t pay another dollar a week and go on enduring this hot room and the life here. And it would presently be as cold here as it was hot now. There was no chance of comfort here at all.

  So she prodded her jaded muscles to get up and dress, though it was a full hour before her usual time for rising. But then she had a great deal to do before she went to the store. And she must keep moving or her resolve would weaken. She must be determined, to face that woman downstairs.

  So she dressed carefully, to give the best impression at the store. They mustn’t think she was worn out.

  Then she smoothed over the bed, and began to take her things down from the hooks in the improvised closet. There weren’t many of them, so they wouldn’t be hard to carry. She folded them neatly, three or four plain dresses, and a meager pile of underwear. She was glad she hadn’t bought that coat yet. Of course it would have had to be bought on credit anyway, but now she didn’t have that to worry about, not till she got another home and was sure of things.

  The breakfast bell was ringing when at last she had her garments all folded neatly into her suitcase. Then she pulled down the curtain to her closet and folded it smoothly, with the curtain from her washstand, and put them in a pasteboard suit box she had brought from the store. She tied the box firmly and put it and her suitcase by the door. Then she put on her hat, took her handbag, and was ready to go. Her rent was up that night, all paid in advance. At least she would not have to pay out anything to move. She would take the suitcase and box with her to the store and put them in her locker. At noon she could slip out and look for a place, or maybe there would be a way to get excused early, if Mr. Clark was in a good humor after that clasp was paid for.

  She ate her breakfast quietly enough. She was really hungry, though it was none of it appetizing. She found a little white worm in her shredded wheat biscuit, and the cream was sour. At least it was near-cream. But she reflected that white worms were likely not very unhealthy, especially if you didn’t eat them, and that sour cream wouldn’t kill her. So she fished out the worm and laid it aside, comforting herself that this was the last breakfast she would ever eat in this house. She might even eat in worse places of course, but this was the last here.

  There was toast, burned and cold, and muddy coffee. She managed a few mouthfuls and then went upstairs to get her things. When she came downstairs Mrs. Hawkins was dickering with a huckster at the door, so she only said as she went down the steps, “Good-bye, Mrs. Hawkins, I’m going!” and then hurried away before Mrs. Hawkins could rally from the shock of being taken at her word.

  But the walk to the trolley seemed longer than usual, burdened with the heavy suitcase and box, and the air was sultry with a coming storm. She looked anxiously up at the sky and made for the subway as rapidly as she could. That would land her almost at the store. It would be nothing short of a calamity if she got wet this morning, with no chance to change her garments before she appeared before the floor manager.

  But the rain held off until Jane was safely inside the store, and her luggage put away in her locker. Then she appeared as usual in her place behind the button counter. They all looked surprised to see her back again.

  “I don’t see why you didn’t take a day or two off and rest up,” said one girl. “Believe me, I’d have stayed away and got a good rest.”

  “Oh, I’m all right this morning,” said Jane, trying to appear as usual and not realizing how white she was looking. It quite surprised her that so many people were interested to ask after her. It is true that she found a great weakness upon her, but she did not speak of that. It embarrassed her that they should have seen her when she fainted. She was not a fainting girl.

  But when Mr. Clark came solicitously up and asked how she felt, she certainly was astonished. It hadn’t occurred to her that he really counted her a human being like himself.

  And then that stocking manager with his perm beautifully set came smiling up.

  “Well, little girl, you staged quite a scene last night, didn’t you?” he said cheerfully, as if she were an old friend.

  Jane looked up astonished.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “It wasn’t premeditated. I’m feeling quite fit this morning. Thank you for asking.” And then she gave attention to a casual customer who had just lingered to gaze at a new display of buttons.

  But young Gaylord was not to be discouraged. He appeared in the midst of the morning’s work with a frosty glass of ice water.

  “I thought this might help out a little,” he said with a cheerful smile, and he handed the glass to her. Jane couldn’t exactly refuse. Besides the water looked good.

  It was amazing how the other girls flocked around h
er after that little attention. If that good-looking young man was going to take her up, they wanted to be in her circle.

  Jane thought about it as she put her domain in buttonly order and grinned grimly to herself. What would they all say if they knew she was homeless this morning? Well, they shouldn’t find it out! But what was she going to do?

  At her lunch hour she went out to a good restaurant and ordered a wholesome lunch. Somehow she had to offset that awful breakfast she had eaten that morning. Somehow she had to get a little strength to go on. Fifty cents for her lunch! But it was worth it. Still she couldn’t go on paying fifty cents for every meal. Well, when the day was over she must find a room, and then she could rest all day Sunday. She wouldn’t even wash out a pair of stockings! She would just rest!

  She put her head down on her lifted hand and closed her eyes a moment while she waited for her order to be brought.

  “Oh, God,” she prayed, “when you’ve so many mansions, couldn’t you help me find a room, just a little room, right away?”

  Then she lifted her head and looked around her.

  Did God really care what became of her? Her mother used to say He did.

  And then almost like an answer to that prayer, though she had felt she had no real right to pray for such things for herself, she saw Miss Leech coming toward her smiling.

  “Jane,” she said hopefully, “are you all tied up for the next two weeks?”

  “Tied up?” said Jane, wonderingly.

  “Yes, are you somewhere you have to stay and can’t get away from, or are you going on a vacation yourself so you couldn’t do something for me?”

  “Why, no,” said Jane. “No, I’m not going on a vacation this year. I can’t afford it. What can I do for you?”

  “Why, you see, I’m taking my vacation beginning tonight, and I’ve just discovered that the girl I thought I had secured to come and stay in my apartment and look after my canary and my plants and goldfish is going off to Maine herself on a trip, and can’t do it. I’m all upset. It isn’t everybody I’d be willing to trust with my canary and goldfish. But I thought of you right away when I knew Elinor couldn’t stay. Would you be willing to come and live there and look after things? I’d be glad to pay you for it. I feel I could trust you. I’ve watched how conscientious you are. I would know you wouldn’t go off to a dance and let the poor little creatures starve or anything. Can you come?”

  “Why, Miss Leech! How wonderful! I’d love to come. But you needn’t pay me anything for it. I don’t go out to dances and I’d adore having birds and fishes for companions.”

  “But certainly I’d pay you. I’d feel happier that way. Besides there might be times when you wanted to go back to your own place to stay and it’s right you should have something for putting yourself out to stay there.”

  “But I shouldn’t be putting myself out,” said Jane. “You see, I’m homeless. I left the room I had this morning. It was unbearable. And I’ve got to hunt something after the store closes. Your proposition will just give me a chance to look around and try to find something respectable within my means. I’d love to come.”

  “All right, then, that’s settled. You go home with me tonight. We’ll have supper together in the restaurant downstairs in my apartment house, and then I can tell you about it. There’s a kitchenette and you can get your own breakfasts whenever you feel like it of course.”

  “It sounds very much like heaven,” said Jane with sparkling eyes. “Where do I meet you?”

  They arranged the details quickly and Miss Leech went back to her desk, leaving Jane to enjoy her lunch with a lightened heart. Now did ever anyone see a happening like that? And just when she needed it so much. Could it be possible that it had anything to do with her prayer? Well, Mother used to believe in prayer that way, but she always said that people who were not abiding in fellowship with Christ had no right to expect such amazing answers to things they asked. She well knew that verse, “If ye abide in me, and my words abide in you, ye shall ask what ye will, and it shall be done unto you.” But she had not been abiding. Neither had His words been abiding in her heart; she hadn’t read her Bible for months, and then only a hurried snatch at it. That wasn’t abiding. But perhaps the Lord had given her this reply to her request just to call her attention to Himself and let her know He still cared for her. Was that it? She was His. At least she had given herself to Him when she was a child, though since her mother’s death she had grown far away from any fellowship. She had almost come to doubt it had ever been anything to her but an idea.

  But she couldn’t ignore this thing that had happened. God had surely been thinking of her. It was as if a tender hand had touched her, a gentle voice said, “I love you, my child!” Well, she would think about all this when she got somewhere and was rested.

  The afternoon went better than the morning. The good food helped, and the relief from worry about the morrow. And when it came time to go up to the office for that pay envelope, and to settle about that clasp, she went with almost a cheerful heart. Even if she did lose that clasp money she would have two whole weeks without having to pay rent, and leisure to look for a room. She didn’t need to worry. Of course, she wouldn’t let Miss Leech pay her for living in a perfectly good room. She hadn’t seen the room yet, but any room that was good enough for Miss Leech would be a rest and vacation for her. Especially since she didn’t have to pay for it.

  The storm had cleared away leaving the atmosphere cooler, and Jane felt as if life were more bearable. Though she was glad indeed when the signal came for closing and she could conscientiously put away the last button, spread the covers over her cases, and make her way up to the office.

  But Mr. Clark stood at the door of the office, and as she entered he motioned to her.

  “Miss Scarlett,” he said, “don’t say anything about the broken clasp. It has been paid for, and you can forget it.”

  “Oh, Mr. Clark, they didn’t make Hilda pay, did they?”

  “No indeed! We found it was in no way her fault, and it was also proved that it was not your fault. Don’t think anything more about it.”

  Mr. Clark was embarrassed at his unaccustomed task, for this was actually the first time he had ever assumed a debt of that sort for the sake of anyone who worked under him. It sent the color into his cheeks and gave him a heady feeling as if God might be pleased with him, though he didn’t explain it to himself in those words exactly. But he added hastily, “I’m sure I hope you’ll be feeling quite well again by Monday, Miss Scarlett,” and then he bowed and turned to speak to another man who came by, and Jane went on to the pay-envelope window and saw Hilda just before her. Hilda with a bright face and no trouble in her eyes.

  It was good to look into her pay envelope and find her full amount there. Was this another sign that God was thinking of her, caring for her?

  So she went downstairs, got her luggage, and met Miss Leech by the door that they had agreed upon, and they went on their way to the apartment.

  It was just about that time that the post office car was delivering a special delivery letter for Jane Scarlett at the old boardinghouse she had left that morning, and Mrs. Hawkins was explaining in a high key that the girl had left and she hadn’t the slightest idea where she had gone, and wouldn’t be responsible for the letter, though Mrs. Hawkins was careful to take the letter in her hand and study the address in the left-hand upper corner before she handed it back to the deliveryman. A firm of lawyers! What would they want of Jane Scarlett? Would it be money? She almost wished she hadn’t raised the girl’s rent. Well, she was gone and she wouldn’t be responsible for holding any letter for her. No, she wouldn’t sign for it, either.

  So the letter went on its way back to the sender, with “NOT KNOWN AT THAT ADDRESS” written large across its envelope. And Jane had gone into a new world where the message within that envelope could not find her.

  Chapter 7

  They had a good supper together downstairs in the restaurant and then Miss Leech too
k Jane up to the apartment. It seemed to her unaccustomed eyes to be palatial. It consisted of a pleasant little living room, a small bedroom, a bathroom, and a tiny kitchenette not much more than a sink and a stove, but still big enough. What luxury! And she was to be here for two whole weeks! It seemed like heaven. She was sure she wouldn’t feel the heat here at all, and anyway there was an electric fan.

  She was introduced to the goldfish and the canary, and given full directions how to care for them.

  Miss Leech left in a taxi a little before midnight, and Jane with awe crept into a big soft bed and lay down in wonder. To think she was in such a lovely place and comparative coolness, for two whole weeks! She meant to lie there awhile and think it all over and enjoy it, but she was asleep before she knew it, and exhausted nature kept her asleep until well into the morning.

  When she did waken it was to the voice of a little silver-toned clock across from the bed. Nine o’clock! When had she slept until nine o’clock? But she lay there a few delicious moments longer, listening to the new sounds about her. The low rumble of high-powered cars instead of trolleys and freight trains. The deep-throated bell from some steeple not far away, the high fine strains of radio music from an open window. And over it all, clear, golden, and ecstatic, the sweet flutelike voice of the canary reveling in his morning joy. It was all wonderful, and she found tears burning out from her eyelids. Tears of joy. The pain of having so many things that she had never had before. Would her mother up in heaven know what comfort had suddenly come to her child? Did God plan this for her? She couldn’t but feel that He had.

  In a little while she got up and reveled in the luxury of a warm bath in a clean tub with all the hot water she wanted to use! Why just that comfort was enough to be thankful for all the rest of her life. How she had hated that tin-lined, roughly painted, light blue bathtub at Mrs. Hawkins’, a tub that had to be waited for almost hour after hour on Sunday mornings, and then always had a rim of grease and dirt around its middle.