Homing

by Grace Livingston Hill

  The leader’s voice was brisk and intriguing.

  “Please turn to the twentieth chapter of your little red book, and you will find its introduction in the thirtieth and thirty-first verses. Away at the end of the book. Isn’t that odd? Let us read:

  ‘And many other signs truly did Jesus in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book: but these are written that ye might believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God; and that believing ye might have life through his name.’

  “You see, John is not a biography of Jesus, like the other gospels. It is a book of signs. Signs that Jesus is the Christ, proofs from an eyewitness. And the purpose of writing them is that ‘ye might have life.’

  “ ‘Oh,’ you say, ‘I want to see life!’ And you may have tried this or that pleasure or pursuit, and actually said ‘This is the life!’ ”

  She imitated so well the tone of voice peculiar to that phrase that a boy and girl on the backseat nudged each other and giggled, and even a few older, quietly staid women glanced at each other understandingly.

  “But,” she went on, “what you may have thought was life may have been a very poor imitation. Turn now to the seventeenth chapter of your little books, the third verse, and read:

  “ ‘And this is life eternal, that they might know thee the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom thou hast sent.’

  “Now, I see some of you looking disappointed. You are saying to yourselves, ‘That’s not the kind of life I want.’ But friends, there is no other kind of life, not real life. There is no life apart from Christ. Perhaps the reason you are dissatisfied with life is because you’ve been seeking it apart from Him and all you have been getting is an imitation. Turn to the first chapter, verse four. ‘In him was life; and the life was the light of men.’ Now the third chapter, verse thirty-six: ‘He that believeth on the Son hath everlasting life: and he that believeth not the Son shall not see life; but the wrath of God abideth on him.’ Now the tenth chapter, verse ten: ‘I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly.’ And chapter fourteen, six: ‘I am the way, the truth, and the life.’ Of course this isn’t animal life Christ is talking about. It is eternal life. It is God’s life.

  “And there are seven signs in this book that prove that Christ is the only life-giver and that the life He gives is real. The first is Jesus turning the water into wine, just by a look. Wine is the symbol of joy, the ecstatic joy of living. Notice that He told the servants to fill up the water pots. You may guess rightly from that, that the kind of life He gives is full of joy.

  “You may say, ‘I never saw a Christian full of joy.’ Well I have, and you’ll find that the long-faced people, while they may be full of creeds or theories, are not full of Jesus Christ. Those who are have joy.

  “In chapter four you find the second sign. Christ heals the son of a nobleman. Here we find that the life He gives is a spiritually healthy life. There is never any fanaticism or lack of balance in it.

  “In the third sign you find Him giving power, in the fourth, nourishment, in the fifth, peace. ‘My peace I give unto you.’ His peace is calm even in the midst of betrayal and a cross in the offing. In the sixth sign He gives light. The healing of the blind man, you know. Watch for that when we come to study it, you who feel you are in the dark now. There is no perplexity in your life that His life cannot make plain.

  “ ‘Death,’ you say?

  “But the seventh miracle deals with that. That is the crowning sign of all that Jesus is the Christ. He has conquered death itself and has the authority to say, ‘I am the resurrection and the life.’

  “To whom else shall we go to find life? Joy, health, sustenance, power, peace, light, victory over death itself? If we really have Him, His life, there is nothing, nothing, that need dismay us. And we receive that life by believing. Let’s read our key verse again: ‘These are written, that ye might believe.’ ”

  When the lesson was over, all too soon for Jane, she carried away with her the little book and the brief notes she had jotted down, and read them over again in her room, resolving not to miss any of these wonderful lessons. Somehow the few minutes’ talk had made life seem a wider thing than just her little environment where her thoughts were all centered on herself and her own perplexities. She had had a glimpse into a vast universe, where she was a child of the Father’s love, and she longed inexpressibly for that Life that the teacher had talked about. That Life that was joyful, sane, fruitful, peaceful and unafraid, guided, secure, eternal!

  She took the book of John and sat down to study over the chapters and verses the teacher had used, and let them sink deep into her heart and memory for future use.

  For three days Jane enjoyed the evening lessons, and was beginning to plan how she could attend them after Miss Leech came home and she had to vacate her fine quarters, but just as she was about to enter the hall the fourth evening she heard behind her calling:

  “Oh, I say, Beautiful! Where have you been all this time?” Looking around in startled annoyance she saw to her dismay the young man Gaylord from the stocking department. Now, what could he possibly want of her? With all the girls he had at his beck and call, why should he bother her?

  Other girls were turning and looking at him and at her; she couldn’t just walk in and not return his greeting. So she managed a nod, and said: “Oh, good evening!”

  She was about to turn and go into the hall, but annoyingly the young man sprang up the two steps between them and came to her side.

  “Oh, I say, what became of you? I thought we were going to have a date that next night and then you disappeared.”

  “Oh, I’m on vacation,” she said. “I’ll be back all too soon next week.”

  “Oh, well, how about tonight? I have time on my hands and not a thing to do. A friend I expected to take out is sick. Can’t you and I see a picture?”

  “Oh, thank you,” said Jane in a panic, “but I’m going in here. There’s something I wouldn’t miss for anything.”

  “Oh, I see!” The young man looked perplexedly up at the building and couldn’t quite make out from the various signs at the door just what it might be she was interested in.

  “All right,” he said cheerfully. “How about my going along? Perhaps that’s the best way to find out what your line is anyway.”

  “Oh, but I’m afraid you wouldn’t like it,” said Jane startled. “It’s just a class. I’m sure it’s not in your line. Please excuse me. They always begin on time and I wouldn’t like to miss a word.”

  She turned and sped up the remaining steps and into the hall breathlessly. But when she went to a seat she found him beside her, curiously studying the little red book someone had given him as he entered.

  He sat down grinning.

  “You see, you didn’t get rid of me so easily,” he said, staring around the hall alertly. “What is this anyway? A spiritualistic séance?”

  “Ssh!” said Jane shaking her head.

  He looked up at the teacher and frowned, and then he looked down at Jane’s little red book and suddenly saw that all the people had the same book.

  The lesson that night was most interesting to Jane, but somehow it didn’t seem to click with the young man. He fumbled the leaves of his book for a minute or two in an attempt to understand what it was about, and then he fidgeted another five minutes. And finally he leaned over and whispered to Jane.

  “Say, I’m about fed up on this, aren’t you?”

  “Ssh!” said Jane shaking her head.

  He frowned and tried to listen for another three minutes, and then he gave a deep, audible sigh.

  “Well,” he said at last, leaning toward her, his voice by now quite unguarded, and audible to those sitting near, “you win. This is too deep for me. I’m going to the movies. I can’t go this any longer. Come on out and find a nice picture!”

  Jane was writing down a particularly interesting sentence in her notebook, and looked annoyed.

  “Come on,
kiddo!”

  “No!” she said firmly. “I wouldn’t miss this for anything.”

  “Okay, kiddo. I’m leaving you. See you later!” And he got up noisily and went out.

  Jane was relieved to have him gone. She had been worrying in the back of her mind to know just how she was going to get rid of him after the class was out. She distinctly did not want to go with him to see any moving pictures. She did not want to go with him anywhere. She did not like him. She wondered if that were a wrong attitude. One might suppose she would be grateful for any attention, lonely as she was. Perhaps she was all wrong. But somehow her mother had given her ideals that would not be satisfied by the trifling youth of today. There must be some real people somewhere who looked upon life as more than a good time when work was over. Well, anyway, she didn’t have to worry about him any more tonight. And she could hear the ending of the lesson without being further distracted.

  So she wrote happily on to the end.

  She was half fearful as she went out lest she would find him waiting for her outside, insisting upon a picture, and she slid out in the crowd and hurried away, thankful that he was not to be seen.

  Those last days of her vacation were very precious. She savored each hour. There were certain books in the little bookcase she wanted to be sure and read before she left, and she red three or four hours at a time. Conscientiously she took walks, always choosing the time when she would not be likely to meet anyone from the store. Somehow it seemed more like a vacation than if she came into contact with any of her fellow laborers.

  Hungrily she wrote down a list of the books in the little library that she knew she would not have time to read. Sometime perhaps she could find one or another of them in a secondhand store. Or perhaps she could afford a membership in some library. But then when would she have time to read them? Or light and comfort in which to read? She could take a book to a park bench in the early evening and read a few minutes every night, but the daylight would soon be growing shorter, and of course she had her washing to do, and some mending. There wouldn’t be much time. Certainly, though, she had a right to a little pleasure. Other people went to the movies, and she could take her amusement by reading, if she only had a good light.

  Ah! Here was a thought. It wasn’t so many blocks to the big railroad station. Why couldn’t she sit in the waiting room for an hour or so now and then and read? Provided she had something to read? Well, she would see when she got settled in her new room.

  She wasn’t very happy about that room, either, but it seemed the best she could find unless she went entirely out of the region near the store, where she could not possibly walk to her work. Perhaps if she got a raise around Christmas she might be able to afford carfare and get a more homelike room. The one she had now was even more bare than Mrs. Hawkins’, but it did have a heating pipe running across one end. That might make some difference in the temperature, though she doubted it. However, she couldn’t do better just now. And when she got Home to the many mansions, of course, it wouldn’t matter what she had gone through down here. “My peace I give unto you.” His peace would be calm in any kind of environment.

  The weather was not so continuously hot now, and when it was intense for a few hours there was always the electric fan to make it tolerable. The respite from the heat had given her a new lease on life, and she had lost the look of strain that had characterized her before she had her collapse in the store. The good food and the rest had given a roundness to her cheeks and a brightness to her eyes, and one morning when she was brushing her hair before the mirror she suddenly stopped and looked at herself.

  “Why, I’m not so bad looking as I used to be,” she said to herself. “I guess I was just starved. I’ll have to look out for that, even if I don’t get a warm coat for winter. I can’t afford to look like a ghost or I’ll lose my job, and then where would I be?”

  Carrying out that thought she realized that if she were taken very sick there would be no place for her but a charity hospital, and a charity grave if she died. That was no way for a Scarlett to be, on charity. She must keep well, be self-respecting, and save her money. She had had an honorable father and mother and belonged to a respected family. It was up to her to take care of herself. Or—was it? Wasn’t it perhaps God’s care? If He cared for her that way, the way the book of John seemed to say, then He would provide for her. She must trust and not be afraid. But of course it was up to her not to be careless of her health.

  The next day was her last evening in Miss Leech’s apartment, and she had tidied it all up. Miss Leech would arrive about ten o’clock that night, and Jane had arranged to go straight to her own new room as soon as she had welcomed her friend home.

  The canary’s cage was clean, the goldfish had fresh water, the plants were flourishing, and there wasn’t a fleck of dust on anything. Jane had her small belongings packed and ready to go. There were still ten pages in a book she wanted to finish, but there would be plenty of time for that after she got back from the Bible class.

  She put on her hat and took her little red book and notebook, and went out. The sky was soft with evening. A red glow hovered over the horizon, as much of it as she could see afar at the end of the street, with a vivid bit of coral, golden streaked, dashed across its corner. There was even a little breeze from the direction of the river. A perfect night for the end of her vacation. How wonderful it had been! And she hadn’t expected nor intended to have a vacation at all. It just came to her like a blessing out of heaven!

  She would not think that this was the end of her pleasant interval. Rather think of it as a beginning, perhaps, of new things. She had found a hope in those Bible classes, and a peace was beginning to grow in her heart as her faith increased.

  She walked slowly, for there was plenty of time. She wanted to put away in her memory this night, the light in the sky, the cool breeze on her brow. They would be refreshing things to remember if hot, hard days came when it scarcely seemed that she could go on. She would go on remembering that in her Father’s house were many mansions, and what He chose for her residence here was His ordering, and it was not for her to demur.

  There was still plenty of time as she reached the steps up to the building. She mounted slowly. Only a few of the class were as yet going in. She lingered on each step, looking off to the horizon where a flood of gold was pouring into the clearness of the roseate hues. What a lovely picture, even amid the noise and grime of a city street!

  With a last lingering look she turned to go, glad that she was alone, and no one could question her lingering.

  It was just then she heard the sound, a voice vaguely familiar, calling her name:

  “Miss Scarlett! Wait! Miss Scarlett!”

  Without turning she hastened on, startled, dismayed. Could that be young Gaylord again? She had thought him cured of coming here for her.

  But the voice had called her Miss Scarlett, and she doubted if he knew her name. He had always called her “Beautiful!” Who else could it be? Not Mr. Clark. And he was the only one who called her that.

  Or was it all imagination? Just some combination of sounds in the street that seemed like her name? She was too sensitive. No one was calling now. She had just imagined it. No, she would not even turn and look back. If it should be Gaylord, somehow having found out her name, she would not let him know she had heard him. She would go in and take her seat. Get a seat by others, where there was no room for him. Then if he had taken a notion to come after her again she would escape his tormenting chatter. She wanted to get all of this lesson. She would surely need it on the morrow.

  So she hurried on and drifted into a seat in the third row with others who were filling up the front rows. Surely no one would come up there to search for her! And after she had sat there a few minutes she would get free from the feeling that someone was following her. It was just nerves anyway. She had had a nice vacation and she mustn’t allow nerves to dominate her anymore.

  So she settled down and gave attention to the l
esson, which began almost immediately, and took her thoughts from everything else.

  Chapter 9

  Kent Havenner had stayed in town that evening to see a girl who had sent him word that she would be at her married sister’s overnight.

  He had been going with her more or less for some months. She was a girl his mother and sister did not like. She used a great deal of makeup, smoked incessantly, drank on occasion, and was moreover divorced. That the reason for the divorce was the fault mainly of her former husband did not make her any more desirable as a companion for Kent in the eyes of his mother, or according to the traditions under which he had been reared.

  The girl’s name was Evadne Laverock. She was considered very beautiful in a startling way.

  There had been some difference of opinion between them for the past four months and Evadne had taken herself abroad for a time. Now she was back and wished to see Kent. And Kent had so far recovered his sense of the fitness of things as not to be quite sure whether he wanted to see Evadne or not. But he remained in town and telephoned his sister that he had business that would keep him till the late train, or perhaps he would not come home until tomorrow night.

  Nevertheless he had not hastened to meet her. He had eaten a leisurely dinner at some distance from the house where the married sister was living, and dallied within his own conscience and his common sense awhile before he went out to take a leisurely way to the rendezvous. He did not intend to give in too easily. He would let Evadne make all the concessions.

  As he walked along he noticed a number of young people going his way. A score or more of good-looking young girls, at least they were sensible looking, and most of them had becoming curly hair and bright faces. Some of them were even noticeably pretty, and there was one who had a sweet charm of bearing that seemed to set her apart from the rest. Where had he seen her before? There was something familiar about the way she held her head. There were several young fellows among the girls, some in company with them, and some going by themselves. They were all going to the same place. Up the steps to a building, a hall! Who was that girl with the dark hair? Somewhere he had met her, he was sure. She was distinguished looking. Evadne wouldn’t think so, but she was. He had certainly seen her somewhere, talked with her! Where were they all going? Was this a school?