Even after she had alighted, Hope felt that she could not go through with this crazy scheme. If there had been a car coming from the opposite direction that she could have boarded, she would have taken it back to the depot.
While waiting in indecision, she thought of her recent office experience and a fresh wave of repulsion swept over her. Then she thought of what it would mean to have to go home. No—she could not. So, turning her back on the car line and facing toward Sherman Street, she determined to at least see what lay in that direction.
The houses got no better. Some of them looked ready to fall, and if one fell the whole crazy block would tumble, just like the long row of dominoes she used to patiently line up and push down when she was a youngster. Insecure looking stairways climbed drunkenly up the outsides of some of the buildings, and on these stairs hung blankets and clothing, while overflowing garbage cans stood on the landings, on every one of which small children were playing.
Hope shuddered. How could she live in such a neighborhood? Then she remembered that Mrs. King had specified that she wanted a Christian cook. There came a vision of a little old lady who might have once been wealthy and was now perhaps ill and helpless, surely poor, and who had to live in this sad place. It might be fun to help such a person. Anyway, here she was, and she would do her best.
Then she turned the corner and stopped in amazement. There was only one house in the block, so it would have to be 1239. Feeling as if she were in some fairyland, Hope crossed the street and passed through the great gate before her.
2
On either side of the broad walk a tangle of shrubs and bushes, which had not been trimmed in many years, rose like a green jungle. Great trees spread their leafy branches so densely that the August sun, which blazed fiercely down on the streets and sidewalks outside the high iron fence, seemed dim and feeble here. In the center of the large grounds, which had once been beautifully landscaped, stood the house, and as Hope advanced toward it she gazed in wonder at finding such a house in such a place.
It was of time-mellowed gray stone, full three stories tall, with a great round tower at one corner and numerous gables and turrets breaking the line of the tile roof. A wide porch with huge pillars stretched across the front, and at one side a covered drive gave entrance onto the porch. All this Hope noted as she slowly came up the walk and mounted the broad steps which, she thought whimsically, reminded her of the pictures she had seen of the approach to the Capitol in Washington. Surely no little sick, poverty-stricken old lady lived in this house! Over the door she saw the tarnished bronze numerals 1239—so it must be the right place. Summoning all her courage, she rang the queer old bell, then jumped in nervousness at the clangor it made.
The noise died away, and for many minutes there was only silence. Hope rang again and waited, and was on the verge of leaving when there was a patter of running feet inside, a fumbling at the door, and it opened to disclose a small boy.
“Oh, hello!” he said with a smile. “I didn’t hear you at first. Will you ‘scuse it, please?”
“Surely,” said Hope, answering both his words and his smile. “Is this where Mrs. King lives?”
“Yes, she’s my mother, I’m Chad. I had to come to the door because she’s sick—just miserably sick.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I am the girl that was sent out from the employment agency. I wonder if she could see me.”
“I don’t know. Will you wait while I ask her? I am not supposed to ask folks in unless I know them. And I don’t know you. So I’ll go talk to Mother and you can wait on the porch.”
Hope agreed to this frankly stated arrangement and waited while the little boy trotted back into the dimness of the big hall. In a moment he came back, saying apologetically, “Mother says, ‘I’m sorry to keep you waiting.’ Will you come in and see her? She hopes you won’t mind.”
Hope followed him across the outer vestibule which, in itself, was larger than the bedroom she had had at Mrs. Moon’s, then down the length of a huge hall to a door through which Chad ushered her, saying, “Here’s the lady, Mother.”
“How do you do?” said a weak voice from the bed. “Get her a chair, Chad. Then you run over and get Aunt Billy.”
The little fellow sped away, and Hope sat tensely in the chair. This room had apparently been a grand parlor at some time. Across one end was an old-fashioned grate and mantel, and above them a large plate glass mirror. Just now the room was serving as a bedroom. The woman on the bed was speaking.
“I’m dreadfully ashamed to greet you this way. When I get one of these headaches I can’t do anything. My friend will be here in a few minutes, and she will explain the work. It hurts my head even to talk.”
She lay exhausted after this short effort, and Hope sat in sympathetic silence. The bed was in tumbled disarray, and the bronze curls on the pillow were damp with perspiration. Mrs. King looked hardly older than Hope herself, and certainly much smaller and more helpless in her illness. The heat of the day had penetrated the recesses of even this great house, and the room seemed stifling. Hope saw a fresh spasm of pain cross Mrs. King’s face and arose in quick decision.
“Mrs. King, while we wait won’t you let me help you? I know I’m a stranger, but I’m sure I can make you more comfortable.”
Mrs. King opened her eyes and smiled wanly. “I’d welcome anyone who could do that. I’m too miserable to have pride left at all. If I weren’t afraid of frightening Chad, I think I’d cry!”
Some time later when Chad and a brisk young lady came in, the bed was smoothed, the pillow had been shaken and turned, and Hope was bathing the hot head. Mrs. King lay relaxed, and when she heard the two enter she said in a drowsy voice, “This is Hope Thompson, Billy. Will you take charge of her for me? She is my new helper, and I hope she likes us well enough to stay.”
“Eleanor King, you should be spanked! I told you yesterday not to chase out in that sun. If you weren’t so sick I’d—oh, what will Phil say?”
“Probably the same things you do, only in more dignified terms. Don’t scold, Billy. I’m paying for my foolishness. And there’s a silver lining to this cloud. Miss Thompson has proved herself such a jewel that I can’t be sorry. Will you take her to her room and show her where the kitchen is? She gave me an aspirin, and I think I can sleep now.”
As Billy and Hope turned to go away, Mrs. King caught sight of the troubled face of little Chad and called him to her side.
“Don’t worry, son. Mother will be all right tomorrow.”
“But I telled Daddy I’d take care of you, and it makes my stomach feel funny when you get sick.”
“You did take care of me, dear, and Daddy will understand. Now run along with Aunt Billy and Miss Hope, and Mother will try to sleep.”
The lively young lady called “Billy” led Hope to a room across the hall and said as she threw open the door, “This will be your room, Miss—Thompson, did Eleanor say? It hasn’t much furniture yet, but if you will be patient that will be remedied. You see, they have just moved here—came only last week—and Eleanor has been having a siege of headaches. She’s a country gal and can’t take this city heat. Things are in a mess.”
“Don’t worry,” said Hope, “I can sleep on this cot. Mrs. King was too sick to talk, and I don’t know whether I’m really hired or not.”
“Sure, you are! That is, if you’ll stay! I talked to the woman at the agency just after you started out here, and she said you can cook. That’s all we’re asking at present—except, of course—you are a Christian, aren’t you?”
“Yes, but what difference does that make?” Hope somehow felt very free with this girl with a boy’s name, and dared to ask the question that had been puzzling her for hours.
“Much indeed,” said Billy promptly. “You see, this isn’t just a private home. It’s part of Henderson Institute, and all the workers must be Christians.”
Hope wanted to ask what Henderson Institute was, and whether Billy was one of the workers also, but she had no t
ime, for as soon as the suitcases had been stowed in the corner and Hope’s hat placed on a shelf in the huge closet, Billy spoke again.
“I’ll show you the kitchen now, and I’m afraid you’ll have to shift for yourself this evening. Phil—that’s Dr. King—is away, and when Eleanor gets a headache she’s worse than useless. I can’t stay for I left thirty-seven young ‘uns in charge of Anna Solinski, and if they’re all undamaged when I get back I’ll be surprised. Oh, here’s Chad. Listen, Chad, can’t you show Miss Hope the kitchen and help her find things? Sure, I knew you could. That will help Mother so she will get well fast. I’ll be back after five o’clock to see if you need any further help, Miss—oh, I’m going to call you Hope. You don’t mind, do you? I’m Billy to you, too. So long, Chad. Keep your chin up, old fellow. Mother will soon be OK, and Daddy will be home tomorrow.” She ran her hand affectionately through the tangled mop of yellow curls on his head and disappeared through a side door.
For the next few hours Hope and Chad were left alone. She had small understanding of her status here, but further enlightenment would have to wait until tomorrow when Mrs. King would be able to talk. So Hope and Chad worked together, and she found him an intelligent and industrious little helper. Back of the great hall were pantries so large that Hope wondered how a single family could ever use them.
“Oh, we don’t ‘spect to,” Chad said in answer to her exclamation. “Daddy is going to get a smaller stove—just an our size one—and put it in this pantry, and that will be our kitchen. Daddy says it’s a plenty big enough kitchen for such a little mother as ours. And we are going to have this other room for our dining room. It was a—a serv … serv … I can’t say the word. But Aunt Billy says it’s a place for flowers. My Grandma has flowers, but she keeps them in the living room and the dining room and some in the kitchen window. Isn’t this a pretty dining room, Miss Hope? I like such a many windows.”
Hope, too, liked the many windows that overlooked the backyard. She tried to picture to herself how this must have appeared long ago when it was filled with ferns and flowers. It would make a pleasant family dining room, and she hoped Mrs. King would have some pretty furniture and curtains to relieve the present bareness.
Chad showed her the electric table stove on which she would be expected to cook until the new one came. The two of them had lunch together in front of the “many windows.” Then Chad, explaining that he must take a nap so that he could play outdoors when it became cooler, went into his bedroom, and Hope was left alone.
She looked about her, wondering what to do. If she knew where Mrs. King wanted her dishes and utensils placed she could unpack them from the barrels and boxes that stood in the large room that had obviously once been a dining room, but that would have to wait. She could scour cupboards, however, and this she did. She longed to go on a tour of exploration and see the other floors of this old mansion. But that, too, must wait. She peeped through the door at the other side of the pantry into the big kitchen and gasped in amazement at the great black stove, the long worktables, and the old-fashioned sink. The windows were gray with a long accumulation of grime, and the dust that covered everything proclaimed that long years had passed since this room was used. The shining cleanliness of the other rooms told her that someone had worked hard to make them habitable.
With nothing to do until Billy should come back and leave some instructions for dinner, Hope wandered to the side door and out into the yard. It was such a tangle of weeds and shrubs that she did not go far but turned back and stood gazing about her. Beyond the tall fence, at one side, stood another large building—a gray stone church, and from this direction came the sound of children’s voices singing in some merry game. Could that be Henderson Institute? And what was it anyway? That would be one more place to explore when she had time. She felt as if she were many miles and days removed from the desperate girl who had been so fearful of life that morning. She did not know just what this place was, but she did know she had fallen in with kindly Christian people and had work to do and a place to stay. Best of all, she wouldn’t have to go home!
3
In the late afternoon when the shadow of the widespreading elm on the west lawn had reached the windows of her bedroom, Eleanor King awoke and lay relaxed, rejoicing in her freedom from pain, but still too weak to care to get up. A sound made her turn, and she reached out her arms toward the anxious little face that peered at her around the partly closed door.
“Come in, sonny boy. Mother’s a lot better.”
With a rush he came and almost strangled her in his joy. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re all better. I didn’t liked my lunch without you.”
“But you ate it, didn’t you?”
“Yes. Miss Hope said you’d want me to. But I didn’t liked it.”
“You’re a good laddie. Now don’t you think you’d better go out and play some more before dinner time? As you go, will you ask Miss Hope to bring me some orange juice, please?”
She drew his head down and planted a kiss where one golden wave fell over his brow. Then, as he ran off, she turned again to the window and lay enjoying the restful green of the branches outside and the refreshing coolness of the breeze that had sprung up. It was good to lie there with the pain gone, and to know that out in the kitchen the new girl would be preparing the evening meal. She was tired, and it was relief to have help at last. She knew Hope Thompson would be satisfactory. After the experiences of the past week when three different girls had proved unacceptable, Hope was a veritable godsend. As she remembered Lulu and Gladys and Dulcine, Eleanor shuddered. Even with the help that Tom and Katie Berg had given in cleaning this monstrous place, it had been an almost impossible situation.
Hope’s appearance this morning was, in truth, an answer to prayer. She had asked God to send help, and with the memory of how quick and skillful Hope’s hands had been as she smoothed the tumbled bedding and bathed her hot head, Eleanor realized that this helper was indeed God’s gift to her. Why a girl of such character and refinement was doing such work she did not know. But it was not hers to question. She had called—God had answered. She was content to accept His solution to her problem.
She heard the door open, and the clink of ice in a glass announced the arrival of the orange juice, but she felt too comfortable to stir.
“Thank you, Hope. Set it on the table. I’ll drink it in a minute,” she said.
She heard the tray lowered carefully; then, “Feeling better, honey?”
With a glad cry of, “Oh, Phil! You darling!” she sat up to be clasped in two strong arms and to feel on her lips the kiss that could never fail to thrill her.
“Oh, I’m so glad you’re home! It’s been the longest three days. I was lying here counting the hours until tomorrow noon, and I didn’t see how I could live through them. Now I don’t have to!”
Philip King laughed as he toyed with the damp curls on her forehead. “Please don’t try not living through them,” he said. “Let’s live through them together.”
“Yes, let’s. Isn’t it a wonderful way to face life, Phil? Together?”
His voice was husky as he replied, “I couldn’t stand it any other way, Len.” Then, after a moment’s silence, “Shouldn’t you drink this orange juice before it gets warm? By the way, who is the young lady from whom I stole it? She didn’t look like anyone I’ve seen around here before.”
“She’s my new helper. I hesitate to call her my cook, for, although she can probably cook better than I can, she is so different from the others who did call themselves cooks that I prefer to call her my helper.”
“She certainly looks different. If she will just prove as good as she looks I’ll say that another of our problems has been solved.”
For a few minutes they sat in silence, content just to be together again. His hand stroked the head that still seemed too hot, and she found that ministration to be the thing needed to relax the taut nerves. The load she had been carrying rolled off, and she knew that tonight would bring refr
eshing sleep.
“Is the headache entirely gone?” Phil asked. “Are you sure you are all right?”
“Sure as can be. All I needed was you.”
“Well, you have me—all of me. But what caused the headache? I was hoping we had seen the last of such things.”
Eleanor gave a shamefaced laugh. “I’m afraid I’ve only myself to blame. I knew I couldn’t stand the heat. But I wanted to see the O’Meara baby, and Mrs. Cornish fell and hurt herself and sent for me, and the car was in the shop and Billy was busy—and so I went. I knew I shouldn’t, but I did. I’m afraid I’m still a very willful person, Phil. It takes such a lot of patience on the part of you and God to teach me to follow not my way, but His.”
“You aren’t willful. You just can’t remember that you’re only one small lady and can’t carry all the world’s burdens on your willing but inadequate shoulders. The need is so great that we both forget to take care of ourselves. We will have to depend more on the Lord for physical strength and wisdom to use it. If we don’t care for ourselves the work will suffer.”
“Yet I keep forgetting. I think it would work better if I took care of you and you took care of me. I could be much more strict with you than with myself. I have so much patience with me.”
Not My Will and The Light in My Window Page 28
