“That will be OK with me. I like snub noses and freckles on little girls, and we’ll let God deal with the stubborn willfulness. He can, you know.”
Eleanor reached up and drew his face down to hers.
“Here’s the first kiss for the new year, darling. Yes, I do know it. He can, and, praise be, He does!”
20
The weeks that followed the New Year’s Day seemed just ordinary weeks, no different in detail from most of the other weeks that passed over Henderson Institute. Every day was full of absorbing, self-denying labor. There was always so much to be done that plans and hopes were far ahead of accomplishment. Men and women, boys and girls, toddlers and babes in arms crowded into the evening school, the Bible classes, the shop, the kitchen, the clinic, and the nursery to receive all that the workers had to give. Some of them went forth to share the service and the message with others. The workers, having given without measure of their time, talent, and their very selves, went to bed at night weary in body but happy in the consciousness of good deeds well done for the Master’s sake.
There was nothing in those weeks to make them stand out when reviewed through memory’s lens. Sandwiched as they were between the Christmas season and the memorable events of the late winter, they seemed only an indefinite succession of days, each too much like the others to be noteworthy.
Yet whether the dwellers in Kings’ Palace knew it or not, those weeks brought gifts and exacted tribute of each of them. The ties binding them together grew stronger, and the roots that held them to the work in this place went deeper with each experience they shared.
Early in January Eleanor received a letter that both surprised and pleased her. She had watched Hope’s slowly changing personality with thankfulness. Since the day she had come to them with apology for her antagonism to Stan, Hope had been sweet tempered and friendly. There was still some shadow in the girl’s life, Eleanor knew, but the bitterness seemed to have gone, and she hoped that a bit more time and labor at her selfless tasks at the Institute would effect a complete cure. She often wondered what tragic happening could have brought such heavy shadows to one so young. She wished she knew more of the background from which the girl had come, but Hope said nothing to enlighten her. The letter filled in some of the missing parts of the puzzle. Eleanor read it to Phil as they sat at lunch.
Dear Mrs. King:
Although you do not know me, I want to write and express the gratitude of myself and my husband for all that you have done for our daughter. We do not know very much about what has happened, for Hope’s letters have, until the one written at Christmastime, been very noncommittal.
All fall we have sensed a change for the better in her attitude. For years she has been a problem to us. She is a dear, sweet girl, but she has shown some dispositional tendencies that have grieved us sorely. We haven’t been able to win her confidence, and her introversion has held her aloof from us. Then, last spring, she was hurt and humiliated very much by one whom she trusted. Our hearts were sore for her, but her aloofness kept us from helping her as we desired.
When she first went to the city she wrote rarely. Since she has been with you her spirit has changed greatly. A few days after Christmas we received a letter full of enthusiasm about her work and her friends at the Institute. What she said about you and Dr. King gave us an understanding of how much you have meant to her. We don’t know how to thank you. For years we have prayed for such a change in our girl, and our hearts are full of gratitude to those who helped to bring it about. I hope that at some future date we may meet you and thank you in person.
May God bless you in the great work you are doing, not for our girl alone but for the others who come under your kind and wise ministry. You will always have a place in our prayers.
Sincerely,
Elizabeth Thompson
“That is a gracious letter from a fine Christian mother,” said Phil when Eleanor had finished. “It must have taken a great deal of grace and patience for Hope’s parents to pray through the years. The young lady who came to us in August wasn’t the sort to reassure any parent. The change in her is almost unbelievable. I hope she goes home soon to visit those parents. They probably will not recognize her.”
“She isn’t the same girl that she was last August. That girl was an introvert who had been warped by some accident and mismanagement in childhood. I have thought much about her explanation to us. She said someone wronged her in childhood. I am sure it could not have been the mother and father who were praying for her who caused that injury. It is altogether possible that much of the difficulty was in Hope’s own mind. The Hope of last year was thinking only of self. The Hope we know today has lost self in service for others, and through that service has learned for the first time in her life how to really live. She looks and acts differently because she is different.”
“Thanks to you, little mother. I’ve seen her watching you when she didn’t know anyone saw her, and she actually yearns toward you. I know how she feels. I’ve often wished I were a little boy—a rather naughty little boy so I could crawl onto your lap and be loved into being good. After I’d done that I’d look at you the way Hope does.”
Eleanor paused on her way to the pantry and said softly, as she stooped to lay her cheek for a moment against his, “The thought that I might be able, through the grace of God, to help a little, or big, boy to be better, is a very humbling thing. I never get over the thrill of it. I am happy indeed to give a hand to a girl like Hope. She’s going to be a fine woman some day. Her battles aren’t all over yet. There is still a wall of some sort to be broken down. I don’t know what it is, but it stands between us so that I cannot get close to her. We are making progress, and some day we will see victory, I am sure. In the meantime, she is an invaluable help here.”
“I’ll say she is! Leaving out the cooking and sewing lessons, that’s your department, not mine, she’s worth her salary just for her efficiency in the office. It’s a different place since she took charge. Billy is a willing secretary, but Hope is an efficient one.”
“Her coming was a real heaven-sent blessing. She brought order out of chaos in the office, she has the girls’ classes running smoothly at last, she and Billy are real pals, and—and—”
“And what?”
“Nothing. I mustn’t say more. Let time take care of any further developments. In the meantime, let’s be thankful that we have a full staff. Both Hope and Stan were God sent.”
“For which I thank Him daily. The plans I have for Henderson Institute would be only pipe dreams if I didn’t have my four fine youngsters to help. I try not to work them too hard, but it’s a temptation. We must see that they get some fun as they go along. Even Ben is too young to work all the time. Next year the Norrises will be ready to take over the household arts and the boys’ work, but the foundation that Hope and Stan are laying will tell for many years.”
Apparently Stan also thought there should be some time for play, for one evening as he and Hope and Billy sat at dinner he proposed a skating party at the lagoon in the park across the city. Hope agreed, for she had been longing to skate, but Billy did not seem enthusiastic.
“You know I’m a rotten skater, Stan. You and I aren’t built to skate together. Take Hope and let me stay at home. She is much nearer your size.”
“Not on your life, my love. You are going with us. I promised your mother I’d guard your health, and you need a race with the wind to put some color in your cheeks. Come on, Hope and I will pull you.”
Just as they were leaving, Ben came in tired and hungry. Stan insisted that he, too, needed some fresh air and exercise, so while Ben ate a belated dinner, Stan found another pair of skates.
The ice on the lagoon was smooth, the stars shone in a cloudless sky, and the cold, clean air was exhilarating. At first the four of them skated abreast, Hope on one end and Stan on the other, suiting their strokes to the shorter ones of Billy and Ben. Then, by common consent, they separated, Ben and Billy to skate lazily a
long the shore, while Hope and Stan with long swinging strokes struck out into the center of the lagoon where the more skillful skaters were racing to and fro. For a while they were content to skate without talking. To Hope it seemed such a rare treat to be out in the open air away from the scents and sounds of Sherman Street that she cared only for the joy of the exercise, almost forgetting her partner as they sped swiftly around the curves of the winding lagoon. Stan sensed her exhilaration and followed her example of silence, realizing that he was seeing an entirely different girl from the serious teacher of household arts in Henderson Institute. Her enjoyment of the sport was so keen that he hesitated to break the spell.
So, hand in hand, with the wind in their faces, they raced along. In the weeks of their acquaintance this was the first time they had been alone together, except for short intervals of consultation over some problem or bit of work. Under some circumstances there might have been self-consciousness, but here each was on familiar and enjoyable ground and was pleased to find such harmonious reaction from the other.
At length, at the far end of the lagoon, Stan drew to a stop.
“Boy, oh boy! That’s keen! I haven’t had so much fun since the day I fell in Grandma’s cistern. Where did you learn to skate?”
“Down by the watermelon patch.”
“Whaddaya mean?”
“Just that. Down along the river where grandpa’s farm is, there are many ponds or bayous of backwater that freeze over much more quickly than the river does. Grandpa would never let me on the river, no matter how cold it got. But all of us kids would swarm to ponds. Once George Meadows and I played hooky from school and skated all day. Gramps wouldn’t let me have my skates any more that winter.”
They were skating leisurely now with the wind at their backs, talking in comradely fashion.
“Who was the George guy? Special friend?”
“No. Special enemy. But the best skater in school. I owe him something, for if I hadn’t tried so hard to beat him, I wouldn’t be such a good skater now.”
“Thanks, George. Now you can fade out of the picture.”
Hope laughed at his nonsense, then realized with a pleasurable thrill that she was talking as easily with Stan as she might have done with her brother, Jack. After an interval of silence, Stan spoke.
“Say, Hope, what do you think of that gang we’re in with?”
“What gang?”
“Oh, the Kings and Ben and Bill and Sam. All of ’em.”
“I didn’t know what you meant. You talk like Butch Belcher.”
“Don’t dodge the question. What do you think of them?”
She hesitated a minute before answering, then spoke slowly. “It’s hard to say what I think. I never met anyone like them before, and when I first came I couldn’t believe they were sincere. Since living with them, I know they are. All of them, from Dr. King down to Sam, have given me a different idea of Christianity from anything I ever had before.”
“It’s different all right. But don’t you think they’re all a little—odd, shall we say?”
“Not odd, but peculiar. That is, different from the world I’ve always known. It’s a mighty fine way to be. I admire them for it.”
“Disregardless?”
Hope laughed. “Yes, disregardless.”
“Well, I like them. And I think they are doing a grand piece of work at the Institute. But, honestly, I don’t think they need to be quite so religious. They could work just as well without so much sanctimony.”
“I don’t think it’s sanctimony. I think it’s a genuine love for Christ that motivates them. They love Him so much that they have to be constantly expressing it. Isn’t that the way anyone acts who really loves?”
“Yes—er yes, if he gets a chance.”
“Without that compulsion they would all be different. The Kings would probably be teaching at the university, Billy would be a social butterfly, and Ben would—”
“Ben would be a successful practitioner out in Haldane Heights and could look forward to having something to offer a wife some day, instead of wearing himself out among people who can’t pay him. I wonder if it’s worthwhile. Sam, of course, could never do anything else, but the Kings and Ben could make their mark in the world, and Bill—well, my Wilhelmina could shine with the best of them.”
“She certainly could, and at first I couldn’t understand her at all. Now when I see her with her babies in the kindergarten, I realize that she never could shine quite so brightly anyplace else. Can you picture Eleanor getting such a thrill out of biology as she does out of her Mothers’ Club? Could Phil teach philosophy with the power to change lives that he has when he pours out his soul at the Mission?”
“Whew! What an exhorter you turned out to be! But all you’ve said doesn’t add up to a thing. I admire them for their work. I said so. If I didn’t think it worthwhile I wouldn’t stay here. However, I think they’re all, except Sam, too big for their jobs, and I am sure they’re off balance. They’d get just as far in their reforms if they weren’t so—so—almost fanatical.”
“It isn’t reform they are thinking about, at least not as the world thinks of reform. All the reforms in the world don’t do any good if the root of evil isn’t killed. That can only come through Christ—through regeneration in Him. That’s what the Institute was founded for—to point men to Him. I don’t think the Kings and Billy and Ben are fanatical. That means unreasonably zealous, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, and that’s what I think they are. Too much religion is apt to unbalance folks. Look at Sam. He’s a pest!”
“I’ll admit Sam is queer. He hasn’t much mentality. It’s better for him to be over-religious, as you call it, than to be like some of those fellows who stare at us when we go on the street. The Kings and Billy and Ben will never be like that. They’re jolly and kind and well-balanced, and I wish I were more like them.”
“Don’t worry. You’re getting there fast.”
“Thank you. That’s the nicest compliment you could give me.
“You’re welcome. Where do I come in? I’m the only heathen in the bunch, and when you all get together I feel smaller and smaller until I’d be glad to crawl into a termite hole if I could find one small enough. Sometimes—there’s Ben and Wilhelmina looking for us. Let’s give them one more good whirl before we go home.”
After that night on the ice, Ben and Billy seemed to find more and more occasion to be together, and Hope grew more and more puzzled as to the situation. Sometimes she would be sure that Billy loved Ben, and her heart would rejoice. Then some word or act would remind her of the tie that seemed to exist between Billy and Stan, and her perplexity would return.
Billy developed an interest in the domestic arts that amused the whole staff. Her evenings were spent at the sewing machine, and kindergartners began to blossom forth in new bibs, then pinafores and coveralls. It was an event that brought forth a box of chocolates from Ben and a corsage of garlic and carrot tops from Stan when she appeared at dinner one night in a dotted swiss blouse and a skirt of the blue that made the violets in her eyes even deeper in hue.
“I did it all, every stitch, my own self,” she cried, whirling around before them.
The applause that ensued brought the Kings to the door to add their admiration and congratulations.
“It’s beautiful, Billy,” said Eleanor, gazing fondly at the small seamstress. “What are you going to make next?”
“Next? Nothing! This is my graduation dress. I’m quitting. I don’t like to sew, but I wanted to know how, so I could if I had to.”
“Oh,” groaned Stan, “what a relief! I was afraid a shirt for me would be next.”
“No. No more sewing. Next I am going to learn to cook. Really cook, not just help Hope.”
“Oi, oi! And who’s going to eat your messes?”
“You, at first. When I learn better, I’ll cook for all of us.”
True to her word she began her culinary studies at once. If she could slip away from the n
ursery at the time the classes met, she would work with Hope’s girls. Whenever she had a few hours off, she could be found in the kitchen wearing a white uniform and a desperately earnest expression, which combination Stan dubbed her “make-up as a cook.”
One evening when he came in from the Institute and saw the light in the kitchen, Stan tiptoed to the door and stood watching her. With the cookbook propped up before her, she was measuring ingredients with such intentness that the watcher in the doorway went entirely unobserved until he began to sing.
“Oh my darling, Wilhelmina!
She’s so pretty and so smart.
But Fate mocked her
And a doctor
Stole away my darling’s heart!”
Billy had whirled around at the sound of his voice and stood speechless and swelling with wrath. Then the storm broke.
“Oh, you—you—I—I wish you’d choke on your old song! You think you’re funny, don’t you? Well, you’re not. You’re just plain mean!”
Stan laughed shamefacedly. Then, as he saw the small chin begin to quiver and the blue eyes begin to fill with tears, he went around the table and put his arms around her.
“’Scuse, honey. I didn’t know it would hurt. Come on, let loose and have a cry if you want to …”
As she sobbed he talked to her in low tones, and soon she grew quiet. Neither of them saw Hope come to the door, take in the scene, then retire hastily into the back hall. Stan pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and said, “Wipe your nose, darling. You’re a big girl now.”
Billy laughed shakily. “Thanks, pal, for the tonic. You keep my secret, and I’ll keep yours. If you’ll wait till they’re done you can have a tart.”
Hope, back in the study, shook her head. Billy and her love affairs were too much for her!
21
There had often been epidemics of disease in the Sherman Street District. The old buildings with their faulty sanitation, the overcrowding, and the lack of proper food and clothing all were conducive to the spread of any germs that might be abroad. There would continue to be epidemics of many sorts. However, the scourge that struck that year was to go down in Henderson House history as the Epidemic. Nothing like it had been known before, nor would be again, Dr. Ben hoped.
Not My Will and The Light in My Window Page 40
