The evenings when she had no classes were apt to be lonely, for Eleanor, who seldom went out evenings, devoted herself to Chad until his bedtime and then worked on a textbook that she expected to publish in the spring. When Dr. King had an evening at home, which was all too rare an occasion, it called for a family celebration, and Hope did not intrude nor interrupt except in case of emergency. So the unoccupied evenings began to hang heavily on her hands.
To fill the time and to drive away thoughts of what might have been and never would be, Hope began to read and study some of the books from the bookcases in the hall. She had always liked to read but never before had had access to such books as these. Often until far into the night she read, racing to finish one fascinating volume that she might start another tomorrow. Poetry, classical fiction, travel, science—she read them all. When Dr. King gave her permission to read such books as she might choose from his private library in the tall cases that reached to the living room ceiling, Hope entered into a new and deep experience. She learned to study her Bible and to read the comments on the various chapters from the pens of the world’s greatest preachers and theologians. She read devotional writings of the saints of all ages. As she read, her horizons broadened and her soul expanded. In the biographies of these saints she learned of depths of love and heights of consecration of which she had never before known and thrilled to these stories, wishing that it might have been her lot to live so courageously for Christ. Why were some Christians called to such noble service, whereas others, like herself, had to go through ignoble experiences?
This train of thought would remind her of Dr. King and Eleanor. Surely they were just as great in their love for God as the saints of other centuries. They had given their lives to His cause and were serving Him with complete devotion. It made one feel almost awed to think of it. Why had not she—Hope Thompson—been chosen for such service? Small wonder that the Kings were happy. God had given to them His unusual favor. They seemed to belong to a special inner circle to which she had not been admitted. For some reason that Hope could not understand, the Kings had been chosen for great happiness and she for sorrow.
Then she would remember her answered prayer and the privilege that was now hers of working at the Institute. She would put aside the thoughts of envy and would plan busily for the next day’s work. God had been good to her, and if He wanted her to serve Him through unhappiness and loneliness she would do it to His glory!
In November a change came that put an end to the lonely evenings. Billy’s parents were planning a trip to South America, and it was decided that during their absence Billy should stay at the Institute under Eleanor’s protecting wing. The study back of Hope’s room was turned over to her, but after two days the girls decided to put both beds into the tower room and use the study for a living room.
“I can’t bear to sleep in this big room alone,” said Billy. “I get the weejies in there all by myself. We need a place to entertain our friends anyway.”
She made a trip out to her home and came back with a truck half full of furniture.
“Here’s hoping Mother will have forgotten about these things by the time she gets back,” she said. “I took a little here and a little there, and pushed the other furniture about so she won’t be too much shocked all at once.”
Hope wondered how the mother could fail to be shocked by the disappearance of a davenport, two easy chairs, a bookcase, three lamps, two tables, and four or five rugs. Hope had learned that whenever Billy wanted anything, her indulgent parents provided it, so she dismissed her concern and helped arrange the furniture in the study. When it was done they all admired the cozy room, and Phil predicted sure and speedy capitulation of any gentlemen friends who might come to call.
“There will be none,” said Billy. “Will you never learn, Dr. King, that my life is dedicated to Henderson Institute, and the boys don’t follow me down here? Hope is no more interested in them than I am. We are going to love each other and won’t miss the little man that isn’t here.”
“There’s always Dr. Ben, however,” said Phil. “He’s the little man who is here. When are you going to stop your foolishness and put him out of his misery, Wilhelmina?”
“I’m not!” snapped Billy. “And you’re not being a bit funny! Can’t you learn that I mean what I say?”
Philip laughed as he said, “Methinks the lady doth protest too much!”
Billy merely made a wry face and went on arranging the books in the bookcase. Later she said to Hope, “Phil and Eleanor are so much in love with each other that they want everyone else to be in love, too. But I’m not joking. If ever I do fall for a man, it won’t be for a doctor!”
It was hard for Hope to understand how Billy could fail to love Dr. Ben. He loved her with such patient devotion that it seemed she must reciprocate. But ere long a new factor—a new man—entered the picture, and Hope thought she saw the reason for Billy’s indifference to Ben.
13
The boy’s handicraft classes had been without a leader, and Dr. King was much concerned about it. The streets were full of boys who could have been interested in the Institute had there been someone to go out and bring them in and teach them to use their hands in ways less harmful than stealing tires, breaking windows, or gambling in vacant lots. In one room of the church basement a few lads labored to construct model airplanes, but they needed the help of an older man. Harry Norris, at Bethel College, was in training for just such a position, and in another year he and his wife would be on the staff. At present their program of study was too heavy to permit any more than a few hours work each week, and this did not suffice to gather in the great number of boys who needed to be reached by the Institute program.
Dr. King had his “Recruits,” a group that had grown up about him and loved him loyally. Each year saw numbers of them leaving his classes and going out into the world to work for a better education or to seek greater opportunity than Sherman Street offered. Everywhere they went they bore testimony to the value of time and money spent in salvaging boys and girls.
Yet there were other boys growing up who would not come to the Institute unless attracted by a vigorous program of sports and crafts. Juvenile delinquency was strong in the neighborhood, and the taverns that abounded were schools of crime. The situation was the subject of earnest prayer on the part of the workers. “Some place God has the man for us,” said Philip, “and in His time He will lead him to us. He sent Hope for our girls. We can trust Him to provide for our boys.”
As Thanksgiving drew near Eleanor planned a dinner for the staff. After the sunrise service in the auditorium of the church, the Institute would be closed for the day. Dr. Ben had no home, Billy’s parents were away, and Hope never spoke of her home to her friends. Therefore, all of them were invited to dinner with the Kings.
“If you want to, you may each invite a guest,” Eleanor added when giving the invitation. “That turkey Mother sent weighs twenty pounds, I believe. So go into the highways and byways and gather them in.”
But the highways and byways yielded no guests. Dr. Ben had no patients who would not have friends around them on the feast day. Billy could not separate any of her beloved babies from their families, and her friends of her own age were busy with other plans. Hope knew no one in the city whom she could invite. The Mission over on Water street was giving a dinner to all the homeless men in the district. So the guest list for the dinner at the big house was short—just Hope, Billy, Dr. Ben, and old Dr. Cortland, the president of Bethel College at which Philip taught. Even that last guest was denied them, for he called the evening before to say that he would have to leave the city that night to visit a sick sister.
“Well—it will be just the family, I guess,” said Eleanor ruefully as she turned from the telephone. “Each of you will have to account for about four pounds of turkey. Poor Dr. Cortland was disappointed, for he does appreciate a meal in the home of friends. He says that his housekeeper is a good cook, but that food needs the sauce of f
ellowship to season it rightly.”
“I’m disappointed myself,” said Billy. “I’d like to show off my social graces in a different crowd. Even one new face would add a bit of zip to the situation. O for another man—just any man for a change!”
“You don’t need another man,” said Hope. “Take Dr. Ben. I don’t want a man or even half a man. You can have all of him.”
“I don’t want any of him,” said Billy desperately. “You all make me want to bite nails! Dr. Ben is all right in his place, but I hope he stays right there! If anyone says his name to me again, I’ll go out and hunt me a man!”
A half hour later she appeared to have done just that. As Eleanor and Hope worked together getting the big turkey ready for the next day’s roasting, Billy appeared in the kitchen door.
“Whoopee! Guess what! Oh, I could turn a cartwheel! Eleanor, guess who’s coming. Stan’s in town, and I invited him out. He’ll be here in twenty minutes.”
“Stan Dykstra? Good!” cried Eleanor when she could be heard. “It will be nice to see him again.”
Philip had followed Billy’s excited voice, and now stood in the door. “So you did go out and hunt your man, did you, Wilhelmina? How did you know where to find him? Sounds like collusion to me.”
“I just wished him out of the ether,” said Billy, laughing excitedly. “I’m so happy I could squeal!”
“You’d better save your energies for something more practical,” rejoined Eleanor. “Where are you planning to have him sleep? There are two beds in the attic, but they lack mattresses. Does he like to sleep on the floor?”
“Oh, I don’t know. That’s a matter of small consequence. He will be willing to sleep any place. He can use the davenport.”
“Not very comfortably, unless he has shrunk several inches since I saw him,” said Philip. “I’ll bring that folding cot over from the nursery and set it up in one of the upstairs rooms.”
Billy giggled at the thought of a cot from the nursery being put to such use but was finally persuaded to get clean linens. By the time the doorbell proclaimed the guest’s arrival, the upstairs room was ready.
While they were talking, Hope had listened in uneasy wonder. Who was Stan Dykstra, anyway? Billy’s joy indicated that he was someone very dear to her, and Hope thought she understood at last why Billy was so cool to Dr. Ben. Right then Hope decided she would not like the newcomer. She was passing through the hall when the bell rang and could not help but see the greeting Billy gave the guest. Dr. Ben had never been so greeted, and Hope’s heart grew heavy at the idea that this stranger might be the real reason for Billy’s failure to return Dr. Ben’s love.
Billy led her guest into the lighted hall, and the Kings hurried out to greet him. His arms were full of packages, and he distributed them before removing his overcoat. To Eleanor he handed a florist’s box that she opened to disclose a great sheaf of yellow chrysanthemums. For Chad there was a football, for Philip a book, and for Billy a mammoth box of chocolates. As Hope was introduced, the newcomer said apologetically, “I didn’t know there was another lady here or I’d have—oh, wait—Phil, bring back that coat!”
Phil had started toward the hall closet with the young man’s overcoat, and now turned in surprise as Stan leaped after him, grabbed the coat, hurriedly delved into one of the pockets and came up triumphantly holding a small gray object in his hand.
“I knew I’d have a use for this someday. Miss Thompson—with my compliments.” He deposited in Hope’s arms a very young, gray kitten.
“O—o—oh, a kitty!” cried Chad, while Hope stood in startled silence and the others crowded around.
“But—but—” stuttered Hope, “I don’t especially want a cat!”
“Neither do I,” solemnly answered Stan. “I never did want a cat. But I found that in a paper bag in the end of an alley I passed. I had no other gift for you.”
“I really don’t need a gift. Does anyone want a cat?”
“Oh, can I have it? Really?” Chad reached for it. “Oh, the poor litta kitty! Its eyes are all shutted up yet.”
He carried it tenderly away to a cushion on the window seat, and the others followed after him. Hope went back to the kitchen and finished the work there. She knew that the pleasure of tomorrow would be ruined for her by the advent of Billy’s friend. First, because he was Billy’s friend, and also because he was strikingly like Jerry Parnell, and his presence had stirred up the pain that she had begun to forget in these last busy weeks. When she had completed the last chore she could possibly think up, Hope turned out the kitchen light and went to her room. As she passed the Kings’ living room, she caught sight of Billy and Stan sitting side by side on the love seat. She went to bed in the darkness and tossed for hours as the ghosts of the past came out of their graves and stirred into activity the old bitter feelings. When Billy came she lay quietly, feigning sleep, but it was a long time before she dropped into slumber.
The next morning when the alarm went off at six o’clock to remind them of the service at the church, Hope wished fervently that she dared crawl down under the blankets and stay there. There was in her heart no feeling of thanksgiving at all, and she did not want to go to the church. Yet if she stayed at home explanations would be necessary, for all week she had been anticipating the early morning service, about which the girls in her classes had been chattering enthusiastically. It apparently was a big day in their year. So Hope went with the others. She was more quiet than usual, and even the singing of the girls’ choir did not interest her, although it was composed of the very girls whom she had learned to love as she worked with and for them. A large group from Bethel College helped to fill the room.
In the absence of Dr. Cortland, who had been scheduled to speak, Dr. King gave the short address that followed the music and prayers. What he said Hope did not know, for her thoughts were all turned to self-commiseration. Beyond Billy’s red head at the other end of the seat in front of her she could see, silhouetted against the big window, the head of Stan Dykstra. In the dim light the profile looked amazingly like Jerry Parnell’s. So, instead of listening to Dr. King’s message, she spent the hour wondering why Jerry and Grace had not married and whether anyone back home ever thought of the girl Jerry had once loved.
Over in the big house later Hope went at once to the kitchen and began to prepare the vegetables. No one noticed her, for Dr. Ben had come home with them and they were all gathered in the living room where Chad had placed a box containing the wee kitten on the window seat. Dr. Ben produced an eye dropper and, with a bit of warm milk, showed Chad how to feed the motherless baby.
“It’s bad for such a tiny kitty not to have a mommy at all,” said Chad. “What would it do if Stan didn’t find it?”
“Someone else would have found it,” answered Eleanor quickly, not wanting Chad to dwell on that thought. “However, Stan did find it, and so it is his kitty.”
“Oh no, it’s not,” said Stan, laughing. “I gave it to Miss Thompson, and she gave it to Chad. So it’s his for keeps.”
“Thanks so much!” said Eleanor grimly. “All we needed to make life interesting was a cat, especially one that has to be fed with an eyedropper!”
“I’m sorry it was such a young one, but it will grow. It may grow up to be the joy of your old age. You will never regret your kindness, I’m sure. And in the meantime, my Wilhelmina will help feed it.”
“Sez you,” answered Billy. Yet she held the kitten while Chad offered the eyedropper. Stan, watching them, began to sing,
“Oh my darling, oh my darling,
Oh my darling Wilhelmine!
You look pretty
With that kitty
In your arms, my Wilhelmine!”
Hope, in the kitchen, heard the song and the laughter that followed but had no desire to join in the fun. She hoped that they did not notice her absence. She would much rather work here than be in with them. But someone did notice she was not there, for when she was out in the big kitchen assembling the m
aterials for the pies she had promised to make, she turned to find Stan observing her from the doorway.
“Some layout here,” he said, gazing around him. “Was this place a private home before the Kings took it over, or was it a classy hotel from the gay days of Victoria?”
“It was a private home.”
“Well, I’m sure it was about as private as a cozy little room in the Smithsonian Institute!”
Hope said nothing, and her caller looked a bit abashed at her lack of friendliness. At that moment Eleanor and Billy arrived to help with dinner, and the conversation became general.
“Stan, my lad, get a knife and start peeling potatoes,” said Billy. “Here’s an apron to keep you clean and a stool to sit on so you’ll be on a level with the rest of us. Get busy!”
Stan made a wry face but did as he was told, singing softly as he worked,
“Wilhelmina, Wilhelmina!
Oh my darling Wilhelmine!
If I cut my little fingers
You’ll be sorry, Wilhelmine!”
“That verse is below standard, pal. And don’t cut your fingers. You’re too big a boy to do that.”
“If I do, will you kiss it?”
“Nope. Ben will take care of it.”
“Well, wouldn’t you even care?”
“Sure, I’d hold your hand while Ben sewed you up. Now get busy, I said. Eleanor, if you’ll tell me where your linens are, I’ll set the table.”
They all worked together, while Phil and Ben in the living room stretched out in easy chairs and enjoyed a time of fellowship that was a rare treat for them. The turkey proved too large for Eleanor’s little white stove, so it traded places with Hope’s pumpkin pies and was roasted in the oven of the old black range. Eleanor and Hope were the cooks, while Stan and Billy divided their time between the kitchen and the living room, where they romped with Chad, worked the crossword puzzle in the daily paper, and thumped out several duets on the piano. Wherever one of them was, the other could be found. Their pleasure in being together was obvious, and Hope’s heart ached for what she felt must be Dr. Ben’s hurt.
Not My Will and The Light in My Window Page 34
