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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..224b7a4 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #65971 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/65971) diff --git a/old/65971-0.txt b/old/65971-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 58b042e..0000000 --- a/old/65971-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,12377 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Red and Black, by Grace S. Richmond - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Red and Black - -Author: Grace S. Richmond - -Illustrator: Frances Rogers - -Release Date: August 1, 2021 [eBook #65971] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: D A Alexander, David E. Brown, and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was - produced from images generously made available by The Internet - Archive) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RED AND BLACK *** - - - - -RED AND BLACK - - -[Illustration: “‘_So here’s to Dr. Redfield Pepper Burns, bearer of a - heavier cross than I have ever borne, and winner of one more - shining...._’”] - - - - - RED AND BLACK - - By GRACE S. RICHMOND - - Author of - “_Mrs. Red Pepper_,” “_Red Pepper Burns_,” - “_Red Pepper’s Patients_,” “_Twenty-Fourth of June_,” - _Etc._ - - [Illustration] - - WITH FRONTISPIECE BY - FRANCES ROGERS - - A. L. BURT COMPANY - Publishers New York - - Published by arrangement with Doubleday, Page & Company - - - - - COPYRIGHT, 1919, BY - DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF - TRANSLATION INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES, - INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN - - - COPYRIGHT, 1919, BY THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY - - - - - TO - “MY BEST FRIENDS” - - - - -CONTENTS - - - CHAPTER PAGE - - I. ACROSS THE SPACE 3 - - II. HEADLINES 17 - - III. NO ANAESTHETIC 31 - - IV. NOBODY TO SAY A PRAYER 48 - - V. PLAIN AS A PIKESTAFF 63 - - VI. HIGH LIGHTS 80 - - VII. RATHER A BIG THING 99 - - VIII. SPENDTHRIFTS 117 - - IX. “BURN, FIRE, BURN!” 134 - - X. A SHIFTING OF HONOURS 153 - - XI. A LONG APRIL NIGHT 174 - - XII. EVERYBODY PLOTS 192 - - XIII. A GREAT GASH 212 - - XIV. SOMETHING TO REMEMBER 233 - - XV. QUICKSILVER IN A TUBE 255 - - XVI. THE ALTAR OF HIS PURPOSE 276 - - XVII. NO OTHER WAY 291 - - XVIII. AT FOUR IN THE MORNING 307 - - XIX. A SCARLET FEATHER 328 - - XX. A HAPPY WARRIOR 341 - - XXI. A PEAL OF BELLS 354 - - XXII. IN HIS NAME 370 - - XXIII. THE TOWN WAS EMPTY BEFORE 376 - - - - -RED AND BLACK - - - - -RED AND BLACK - - - - -CHAPTER I - -ACROSS THE SPACE - - -Their first sight of each other--Red and Black--was across the space -which stretches between pulpit and pew. It’s sometimes a wide space, -and impassable; again, it’s not far, and the lines of communication are -always open. In this case, neither of them knew, as yet, just what the -distance was. - -Black--Robert McPherson Black--if you want his full name, had been -a bit nervous in the vestry where he put on his gown. He had been -preaching only five years, and that in a Southern country parish, when -a visiting committee of impressive looking men had come to listen to -him--had come again--and once more--and then had startled him with -a call to the big suburban town and the fine old, ivy-grown church -generally known as the “Stone Church.” - -“But, gentlemen,” he had said, swinging about quickly in his study -chair when Mr. Lockhart, the chairman of the committee, had asked him -if he would consider a call--“I’m--I’m--why, I’m not good enough for -you!” - -The committee had smiled--it was quite a remarkable committee, and had -a sense of humour. At least Samuel Lockhart had, and one other of the -five who were waiting upon Mr. Black in his study after the evening -service. - -“Meaning virtue--or ability?” inquired the chairman, with his friendly -smile. - -“Both. You see--well, to put it honestly--I’m just a country boy as -yet, born in Scotland and brought up in your South. I haven’t had the -training----” - -“Very good things have come out of the country--and Scotland--and -the South,” Mr. John Radway had suggested. “And I believe you are a -graduate of--a perfectly satisfactory college and seminary, and have -built this church up from desertion to popularity----” - -Well, they had had it out on those lines, and others, in the next hour, -the committee falling more and more in love with its candidate--if so -emotional a phrase may be used of the feelings stirred in the breasts -of five middle-aged, steady-going, sensible men--as they watched the -young man’s face go from pale to red and back again, and heard him tell -them not only what he thought he was not, but what he thought they -might not be either--in so frank and winning a way that the more he -wasn’t sure he’d better come the surer they were he must! - -In the end he came--called and accepted, after the modern methods, -wholly on the judgment of the committee, for he had refused absolutely -and finally to come and preach a candidating sermon. So when he emerged -from the vestry door, on that first May Sunday, he faced for the first -time his newly acquired congregation, and the church faced for the -first time its minister-elect. Which was wholly as it should be, and -the result was a tremendously large audience, on tiptoe with interest -and curiosity. - -Red was not in the congregation when Black first came in through the -vestry door. Instead, as usual, he was racing along the road in a very -muddy car, trying to make four calls in the time in which he should -really have made two, because his wife had insisted very strenuously -that he should do his best to get to church on that particular morning. -It seemed that she had learned that the new minister was from the -South, and she, being a Southerner, naturally felt an instant sense of -loyalty. It was mighty seldom that Red could ever be got to church, not -so much because he didn’t want to go--though he didn’t, really, unless -the man he was to hear was exceptionally good--as because he couldn’t -get around to it, not once in a blue moon--or a Sunday morning sun. -And if, by strenuous exertion, he did arrive at church, there was one -thing which almost invariably happened--so what was the use? The young -usher for Doctor Burns’ aisle always grinned when he saw him come in, -because he knew perfectly that within a very short time, he, the usher, -would be tiptoeing down the aisle and whispering in the ear below the -heavy thatch of close-cropped, fire-red hair. And then Doctor Burns’ -attending church for _that_ day would be over. - -The chances seemed fair, however, on this particular morning, because -Red did not come into church till the preliminary service was well -along. He stole in while the congregation was on its feet singing a -hymn, so his entrance was not conspicuous; but Black saw him, just the -same. Black had already seen every man in the congregation, though he -had noted individually but few of the women. He saw this big figure, -stalwart yet well set up; he saw the red head--he could hardly help -that--it would be a landmark in any audience. He saw also the brilliant -hazel eyes, the strong yet finely cut face. To put it in a word, as -Redfield Pepper Burns came into the crowded church, his personality -reached out ahead of him and struck the man in the pulpit a heavy blow -over the heart. Too strong a phrase? Not a bit of it. If the thing has -never happened to you, then you’re not a witness, and your testimony -doesn’t count. But plenty of witnesses can be found. - -Robert Black looked down the aisle, and instantly coveted this man for -a friend. “I’ve got to have you,” he said within himself, while the -people went on singing the last stanza of a great hymn. “I’ve got to -have you for a friend. I don’t know who else may be in this parish but -as long as _you’re_ here there’ll be something worth the very best I -can do. I wonder if you’ll be easy to get. I--doubt it.” - -Now this was rather strange, for the family with whom he was staying -while the manse was being put in order for the new minister had spoken -warmly of Doctor Burns as the man whom they always employed, plainly -showing their affection for him, and adding that half the town adored -the red-headed person in question. When that red head came into church -late, looking as professional as such a man can’t possibly help -looking, it was easy enough for Black to guess that this was Doctor -Burns. - -Across the space, then, they faced each other, these two, whose lives -were to react so powerfully, each upon the other--and only one of them -guessed it. To tell the truth, Red was more than a little weary that -Sunday morning; he was not just then electrically sensitive, like the -other man, to every impression--he was not that sort of man, anyhow. -He had been up half the night, and his hair-trigger temper--which had -inspired the nickname he had carried from boyhood--had gone off in -a loud explosion within less than an hour before he appeared in the -church. He was still inwardly seething slightly at the recollection, -though outwardly he had returned to calm. Altogether, he was not -precisely in a state of mind to gaze with favour upon the new man in -the pulpit, who struck him at once as disappointingly young. He had -been told by somebody that Robert McPherson Black was thirty-five, -but his first swift glance convinced him that Robert had not been -strictly truthful about his age--or else had encouraged an impression -that anybody with half an eye could see was a wrong one. He was quite -evidently a boy--a mere boy. Burns liked boys--but not in the pulpit, -attempting to take charge of his life and tell him what to do. - -Therefore Red looked with an indifferent eye upon the tall figure -standing to read the Scriptures, but acknowledged in his mind that -the youth had a pleasing face and personality--Red liked black hair -and eyes--he had married them, and had never ceased to prefer that -colouring to any other. He admitted to himself that the intonations -of Black’s voice were surprisingly deep and manly for such a boy--and -then promptly closed his mind to further impressions, and ran his hand -through his red hair and breathed a heavy sigh of fatigue. Vigorous -fellow though he was at forty years, it was necessary for him to get an -occasional night’s sleep to even things up. If it hadn’t been for his -wife’s urging he might have been snatching forty winks this minute on a -certain comfortable wide davenport at home. These Southerners--how they -did hang together--and Black wasn’t a real Southerner, either, having -spent his boyhood in Scotland. Red could have heard the new man quite -as well next Sunday--or the one after. He glanced sidewise at his wife, -and his irritation faded--as it always did at the mere sight of her. -How lovely she was this morning, in her quiet church attire. Bless her -heart--if she wanted him there he was glad he had come. And of course -it was best for the children that they see their father in church now -and then.... But he hoped the boy in the pulpit would not make too -long a prayer--he, Red, was so deadly sleepy, he might go to sleep and -disgrace Ellen. It wouldn’t be the first time. - -But he didn’t hear the prayer--and not because he went to sleep. It -was during the offertory sung by the expensive quartette (which he -didn’t like at all because he knew the tenor for a four-flusher and the -contralto for a little blonde fool, who sometimes got him up in the -night for her hysterics--though he admitted she could sing), that the -young usher came tiptoeing down the aisle and whispered the customary -message in the ear beneath the red thatch. Dr. Redfield Pepper Burns -had been in church precisely eleven minutes this time before being -called out. What in thunder was the use of his coming at all? He gave -an I-told-you-so look at his wife as he got up and hung his overcoat on -his arm and went up the aisle again, his competent shoulders followed -by the disappointed gaze of Black from the pulpit. The doors closed -behind him, and the young usher exhibited his watch triumphantly to -another young usher, making signs as of one who had won a bet. Eleven -minutes was the shortest time since February, when on a certain -remembered Sunday Burns had never got to his seat at all, but had been -followed down the aisle by the usher practically on a run. Somebody had -got himself smashed up by a passing trolley almost outside the door of -the sanctuary. Being an usher certainly had its compensations at times. - -Yes, Black was disappointed. Of course he faced a large and interested -congregation, and everybody knows that a minister should not be more -anxious to preach to one man than to another. Unfortunately, being -quite human, he sometimes is. On this occasion, having suffered -that blow over the heart before mentioned, he had found himself -suddenly peculiarly eager to speak to the red-headed doctor--from -the pulpit--and convince him that he himself was not as young as he -looked--and that he could be a very good friend. Red looked to him like -the sort of man who needed a friend, in spite of all Black’s hostess -had said to him about Burns’ popularity and his enormous professional -practice. During those eleven minutes, through part of which Black had -been at leisure to glance several times at Red, he had received the -distinct impression that he was looking at a much overworked man, who -needed certain things rather badly--one of which was another man who -was not just a good-fellow sort of friend, but one who understood at -least a little of what life meant--and what it ought to mean. - -Thus thinking Black rose to make his prayer--the prayer before the -sermon. His thoughts about Red had made him forget for a little that -he was facing his new congregation--and that was a good thing, for -it had taken away most of his nervousness. And after the prayer came -the sermon--and after the sermon came a very wonderful strain of -music which made Black lift his head toward the choir above him with -a sense of deep gratitude that music existed and could help him in -his task like that. At this time, of course, he didn’t know about the -“four-flusher” tenor, and the little fool of a blonde contralto who -always felt most like smiling at the moment when he was preaching -most earnestly. When he did know--well--in the end there were two new -members of that quartette. - -So this was how Black and Red met for the first time--yet did not meet. -Though, after the seeing of Red across the as yet undetermined distance -between pulpit and pew, there followed a thousand other impressions, -and though after the service Black met any number of interesting -looking men and women who shook his hand and gave him cordial welcome, -the memory he carried away with him was that of R. P. Burns, M.D., as -the man he must at any cost come to know intimately. - -As for Red--his impression was another story. - -“Well, how did the Kid acquit himself?” he inquired, when he met his -family at the customary early afternoon Sunday dinner. There was quite -a group about the table, for his wife’s sister, Martha Macauley, her -husband, James Macauley, and their children were there. All these -people had been present at the morning service. - -Macauley, ever first to reply to any question addressed to a company in -general, spoke jeeringly, turning his round, good-humoured face toward -his host: - -“Why not fee young Perkins to leave you in your pew for once, and hear -for yourself? I’ve known you turn down plenty of calls when they took -you away from home, but, come to think of it, I never knew you to -refuse to cut and run from church!” - -Burns frowned. “You’re not such a devoted worshipper yourself, Jim, -that you can act truant officer and get away with it. If you knew how I -hated to move out of that pew this morning----” - -“Yes, you’d got all set for one of those head-up snoozes you take -when the sermon bores you. Well, let me tell you, if you’d stayed, -you wouldn’t have got any chance to sleep. He may be a kid--though he -doesn’t look so much like one when you get close--lines in his face if -you notice--he may be a kid, but he’s got the goods, and by George, -he delivered ’em this morning all right. Sleep! I wasn’t over and -above wide awake myself through the preliminaries, but I found myself -sitting up with a jerk when he let go his first bolt.” - -“Bolt, eh?” Burns began to eat his soup with relish. As it happened he -had had no time for breakfast, and this was his first meal of the day. -“Jolly, this _is_ good soup!” he said. “Well!--I thought they always -spoke softly when they first came, and only fired up later. Didn’t -he begin on the ‘Dear Brethren, I’m pleased to be with you’ line? I -thought he looked rather conventional myself--and abominably young. I’m -not fond of green salad.” - -“Green salad!” This was Martha Macauley, flushing and indignant. “Why, -he’s a _man_, Red, and a very fine one, if I’m any judge. And he can -preach--oh, how he _can_ preach!” - -“I’m not asking any woman, Marty.” Burns gave his sister-in-law a -cynical little smile. “Trust any woman to fall for a handsome young -preacher with black eyes and a good voice, whatever he says. To be -sure, Ellen----” - -“Oh, yes--you think Ellen is the only woman in the world with any -sense. Well, let me tell you Len ‘fell for him,’ just as much as I -did--only she never gives herself away, and probably won’t now, if you -ask her.” - -Burns’ eyes met his wife’s. “Like him, eh, Len?” he asked. “Did the -black eyes--and his being a Southerner--get you, too?” - -Mrs. Redfield Pepper Burns was an unusual woman. If she had not been, -at this challenge, she would have answered one of two things. Either -she would have said defiantly: “I certainly did like him--why shouldn’t -I, when Jim did--and _he’s_ a man! Why are you always prejudiced -against ministers?” or she would have said softly: “If you had heard -him, dear, I think you would have liked him yourself.” Instead -she answered, as a man might--only she was not in the least like a -man--“It’s hard to tell how one likes any minister at first sight. It’s -not the first sermon, but the twentieth, that tells the story. And -plenty of other things besides the preaching.” - -“But you certainly got a good first impression, Len?” Martha cried, -at the same moment that James Macauley chuckled, “My, but that was a -clever stall!” - -Mrs. Burns smiled at her husband, whose hazel eyes were studying her -intently. Red never ceased to wonder at the way people didn’t succeed -in cornering Ellen. She might find her way out with a smile alone, or -with a flash of those wonderful black-lashed eyes of hers, but find her -way out she always did. She found it now. - -“Mr. Lockhart told me confidentially this morning that Mr. Black said -he wasn’t good enough for us. So at least we have been forewarned. -He’ll have to prove himself against his own admission.” - -“Wasn’t good enough, eh?” growled Red Pepper, suddenly and -characteristically striking fire. “Did he think we wanted a ‘good -one’--a saint? I don’t, for one. My principal objection to him, without -having heard him, is that he looks as if his mother parted his hair -for him before he came, and put a clean handkerchief in his pocket. -Jolly--I like ’em to look less like poets and more like red-blooded -men! Not that I want ’em beefy, either. Speaking of beef--I’ll have -another slice. This going to church takes it out of a fellow.” - -Jim Macauley howled. “Going to church! Coming away, you mean. Just a -look-in, for yours. As to the way you like your preachers, my private -opinion is you don’t like ’em at all.” - -“Mr. Black doesn’t look like a poet, Red.” It was Martha Macauley -again. She and her brother-in-law seldom agreed upon any topic. “He -has the jolliest twinkle in those black eyes--and his hair is so crisp -with trying to curl that it doesn’t stay parted well at all--it was all -rumpled up before the end of his sermon. And he has a fine, healthy -colour--and the nicest smile----” - -Burns sighed. “Jim, suppose there was a man up for the governorship in -our state, and we went around talking about his eyes and his hair and -his smile! Oh, Christopher! Don’t you women ever think about a man’s -_brains_?--what he has _in_ his head--not _on_ it?” - -“It was you who began to talk about his looks!” Mrs. Macauley pointed -out triumphantly. - -“Check!” called James, her husband. “She scores, Red! You did begin a -lot of pretty mean personal observations about his mother parting his -hair, and so forth. Shame!--it wasn’t sporting of you. The preacher -has brains, brother--brains, I tell you. I saw ’em myself, through his -skull. And he’s got a pretty little muscle, too. When he gripped my -hand I felt the bones crack--and me a golf player. I don’t know where -he got his--but he’s got it. These athletic parsons--look out for ’em. -They’re liable to turn the other cheek, according to instructions in -the Scriptures, and then hit you a crack with a good right arm. It -struck me this chap hadn’t been sitting on cushions all his life. -You’ll outweigh him by about fifty pounds, but I’ll bet he could down -you in a wrestling match.” - -“Yes, and I’ll bet you’d like to see him do it,” murmured Red Pepper, -becoming genial again under the influence of his second cup of very -strong coffee, which was banishing his weariness like magic, as usual. -“Well, you won’t right away, because we’re not likely to get to that -stage of intimacy for some time. Ministers and doctors meet mostly in -places where each has a good chance to criticize the other’s job. When -I come to die I’d rather have my old friend, Max Buller, M.D., to say -a prayer for me--if he knows how--than any preacher who ever came down -the pike--except one, and that was a corking old bishop who was the -best sport I ever met in my life. Oh, it isn’t that I don’t respect the -profession--I do. But I want a minister to be a man as well, and I----” - -“But it isn’t quite fair to take it for granted that he isn’t one, is -it, Red?” inquired the charming woman at the other side of the table -who was his wife. - -James Macauley laughed. “Innocent of not being a man till he’s proved -guilty, eh, Red?” he suggested. “You know I really have quite a strong -suspicion that this particular minister is a regular fellow. The way he -looked me in the eye--well--I may be no judge of men----” - -“You’re not,” declared his opponent, frankly. “Any chap with a cheerful -grin and a plausible line of talk can put it all over you. You’re too -good-natured to live. Now me--I’m a natural born cynic--I see too many -faces with the mask off not to be. I----” - -“Yes, _you_! You’re the kind of cynic who’d sit up all night with a -preacher or any other man you happened to hate, and save his life, and -then floor him the first time you met him afterward by telling him you -hadn’t any bill against him because you weren’t a vet’rinary and didn’t -charge for treating donkeys.” - -“Call that a joke--or an insult?” growled Red Pepper; then laughed and -switched the subject. - -But next Sunday he did not see fit to get to church at all, and on the -following Sunday he couldn’t have done it if he’d tried, not having a -minute to breathe in for himself while fighting like a fiend to keep -the breath of life in a fellow-human. And between times he caught -not a sight of Robert Black, who, however, caught several sights of -him. R. P. Burns was in the habit of driving with his face straight -ahead, to avoid bowing every other minute to his myriad acquaintances -and patients. Though Black tried very hard more than once to catch -his eye when passing him close by the curb, he had a view only of the -clean-cut profile, the lips usually close set, the brows drawn over the -intent eyes. For Red was accustomed to think out his operative cases -while on the road, and when a man is mentally making incisions, tying -arteries, and blocking out the shortest cut to a cure, he has little -time to be recognizing passing citizens, not to mention a preacher whom -he persists in considering too much of a “kid” for his taste, in the -pulpit or out of it. - -But Black, as you have been told, was of Scottish blood, and a Scot -bides his time. Black meant to know Red, and know him well. He was -pretty sure that the way to know him was not to go and hang around -his office, or to call upon his wife with Red sure to be away--as -Black discovered he always was, in ordinary calling hours. He knew he -couldn’t go and lay his hand on Red’s shoulder at a street corner and -tell him he wanted to know him. In fact, neither these nor any other of -the ordinary methods of bringing about an acquaintance with a man as -a preliminary to a friendship seemed to him to promise well. The best -he could do was to wait and watch an opportunity, and then--well--if -he could somehow do something to help Red out in a crisis, or even to -serve him in some really significant way without making any fuss about -it, he felt that possibly the thing he desired might come about. -Meanwhile--that blow over the heart which he had received at the first -sight of the big red-headed doctor continued to make itself felt. -Therefore, while Black went with a will at all the new duties of his -large parish, and made friends right and left--particularly with his -men, because he liked men and found it easier to get on with them than -with women--he did not for a day relax his watch for the time when he -should send a counter blow in under the guard which he somehow felt -was up against him, or forget to plan to make it a telling one when he -should deliver it. - - - - -CHAPTER II - -HEADLINES - - -“Harps and voices!” ejaculated Robert Black, quite unconscious of the -source of his poetic expletive, “how are my poor little two hundred and -thirty-one books going to make any kind of a showing here?” - -Small wonder that he looked dismayed. He had just caught his first -sight of the dignified manse study, with its long rows of empty black -walnut bookcases stretching, five shelves high, across three sides of -the large room. The manse, fortunately for a bachelor, was furnished as -to the main necessities of living, but it wanted all the details which -go to make a home. Though the study contained a massive black walnut -desk and chair, a big leather armchair, a luxurious leather couch, -and a very good and ecclesiastically sombre rug upon its floor, it -seemed bare enough to a man who had lately left a warm little room of -nondescript furnishing but most homelike atmosphere. To tell the truth, -Black was feeling something resembling a touch of homesickness which -seemed to centre in an old high-backed wooden rocking-chair cushioned -with “Turkey red.” He was wondering if he might send for that homely -old chair, and if he should, how it would look among these dignified -surroundings. He didn’t care a picayune how it might look--he decided -that he simply had to have it if he stayed. Which proved that it really -was homesickness for his country parish which had attacked him that -morning. Why not? Do you think him less of a man for that? - -“Oh, yours’ll go quite a way!” young Tom Lockhart assured him -cheerfully. “And you can use the rest of the space for magazines and -papers.” - -“Thanks!” replied Black, rather grimly grateful for this comforting -suggestion. He and the twenty-year-old son of his hostess had become -very good friends in the two days which had elapsed since Black’s -arrival. He had an idea that Tom was going to be a distinct asset in -the days to come. The young man’s fair hair and blue eyes were by no -means indicative of softness--being counteracted by a pugnacious snub -nose, a chin so positive that it might easily become a menace, and a -grin which decidedly suggested impishness. - -“I’ll help unpack these, if you like.” - -Tom laid hold of the books with a will. Black, his coat off, set them -up, thereby indisputably demonstrating that two hundred and thirty-one -volumes, even though a round two dozen of them be bulky with learning, -certainly do fill an inconceivably small space. - -“Well, anyhow,” he said, resting from his labours, and determinedly -turning away from the embarrassing testimony of the bookshelves as to -his resources, to the invitation of the massive desk to be equipped -with the proper appliances to work, “a few pictures and things will -help to make it look as if somebody lived here. I’ve several pretty -good photographs and prints I thought I’d frame when I got here--I’ve -been saving them up for some time.” - -He exhibited the collection with pride--they had lain across the top of -the books. Tom Lockhart hung over them critically. - -“They’re bully!” was his judgment. “Not a bit what I’d have expected. -Not a saint or a harp among ’em. Oh, gee!--that horse race is great! -Where’d you get that? I mean--it’s foreign, isn’t it?” - -Black laughed. “That’s just a bit of a hurdle race we had in a little -town down South. I’m on one of those horses.” - -“You are! Oh, yes--I see--on the front one! Why, say--” he turned to -Black, enthusiasm lighting his face--“you’re one of those regular -horse-riding Southerners. This is on your family estate, I’ll wager.” - -Black’s face flushed a little, but his eyes met the boy’s frankly. “I -was born in Scotland, and came over here when I was sixteen. I worked -for the man who lived in that house back there at the left. He let -me ride his horses. I broke the black one for him--and rode him to a -finish in that race. I was only seventeen then.” - -Tom stared for a minute before his manners came to the rescue. “That’s -awfully interesting,” he said then, politely. Black could see the -confusion and wonderment in his mind as plainly as if the boy had given -expression to it. If the information had let Tom down a little, the -next instant he rallied to the recognition that here was a man out -of the ordinary. Tom was not a snob, but he had never before heard -a minister own to “working” for anybody, and it had startled him -slightly. But when he regarded Black, he saw a man who, while he looked -as if he had never worked for anybody, had not hesitated to declare -that he had. Tom thought he liked the combination. - -“If you could tell me of a good place to get these framed,” Black said, -gathering up the photographs and prints as he spoke, “I believe I’ll -have it done right away. It’s the one thing that’ll make this big -house seem a little more like home.” - -“That’s right. And I can tell you a peach of a place--in fact I’ll take -you there, if you want to go right now. It’s on our way back home. By -the way--” young Tom glanced round the big bare room--“if there’s any -stuff you want to get for the house to give it a kind of a jolly air, -you know, you’ll find it right there, at Jane Ray’s. She can advise -you, too.” - -“I don’t suppose I’ll get anything but the frames,” Black answered -cautiously, as the two went out together. He had received an advance on -his new salary, and therefore he had more money in his pocket than he -had ever had before at one time, but he was too much in the habit of -needing to count every penny to think of starting out to buy anything -not strictly necessary. And already he knew Tom for the usual careless -spender, the rich man’s son. Very likely, he thought, this place to -which Tom was to take him was the most expensive place in the suburban -town. On second thought, he decided to take along only two of his -pictures--till he knew the prices he must pay. - - * * * * * - -It had not been a particularly busy morning for Jane Ray. She was -occupied with only one customer at the moment when Robert Black and -young Thomas Lockhart came down the side street upon which fronted her -shop--a side street down which many feet were accustomed to turn, in -search of Jane and her wares. - -The customer with whom she was occupied stood with her at the rear of -the shop before several specimens of antique desks and chairs. All -about were other pieces, some of them proclaiming themselves rather -rare. Jane Ray herself also looked rather rare--for a shopkeeper, -inasmuch as she did not look like a shopkeeper at all, though the -chaste severity of her business attire rivalled that of her latest -acquired possession over which that morning she was gloating--a genuine -Adam mirror. This mirror reflected faithfully Jane’s smooth, chestnut -brown head, her slightly dusky skin with an underlying tinge of pink, -her dark eyes which held a spice of mischief in spite of their cool -alertness of glance, her faintly aggressive chin--which meant that she -could argue with you about the value of her goods and hold her own, and -in the end convince you, without making you unhappy about it--which is -a rare accomplishment, especially in so young a woman as was Miss Ray. - -Robert Black and Tom, the latter self-constituted guide to furnishing -a manse with what might be called its superfluous necessities, entered -the shop and stood waiting. Jane saw them in her Adam mirror, but she -continued to discuss with her other customer the relative merits of a -Chippendale desk having all manner of hidden springs and drawers in -it, with those of a Sheraton pouch-table, a work-table with a silken -bag beneath it, and essentially feminine in its appeal. The customer -was making a present to his wife, and had fled to Jane in this trying -emergency--as did many another man. Jane always knew. - -“Isn’t this some place?” murmured young Lockhart, proudly, hanging over -a glass show-case on a cherry gate-table. “Ever get into a woman’s shop -that catered to men like this one? Look at this case of pipes--aren’t -they stunners? She knows all there is to know about every last thing -she sells, and what’s more, she never keeps anything but good stuff. -Some of it’s pretty rare, and all of it’s corking. Look at those cats’ -eyes!” - -But Black had caught sight of certain headlines in a New York daily -lying beside the case of semi-precious stones which had attracted Tom. -It was a late morning edition, and this suburban town lay too far -from New York for the later morning editions to reach it before early -afternoon--anyhow, they were not to be had at the news-stands before -two o’clock, as Black had discovered yesterday. He seized the paper, -wondering how this woman shopkeeper had achieved the impossible. He was -a voracious reader of war-news, this Scotsman by blood and American to -the last loyal drop of it. But he was not satisfied with America’s part -in the great conflict. For this was April, nineteen sixteen, and the -thing had been going on for almost two years. - -He devoured the black headlines. - - “NO BREAK IN THE FRENCH LINES YET. SEVENTH WEEK OF THE STRUGGLE AT - VERDUN TOTAL GAIN ONLY FOUR TO FIVE MILES ON A THIRTY-FIVE MILE - FRONT.” - -He flamed into low, swift speech, striking the paper before him with -his fist. Tom, listening, forgot to gaze upon the contents of the case -before him. - -“Those French--aren’t they magnificent? Why aren’t we there, fighting -by their sides? Oh, we’ll get there yet, but it’s hard to wait. Think -of those fellows--holding on two long, anxious years! And they came -over here--Lafayette and the rest--and poured out their blood and their -money for us. And we think we’re doing something when we send them a -little food and some tobacco to buck up on!” - -“I say--do you want to fight--a minister? Why, I thought all your -profession asked for was peace!” Young Tom’s tone was curious. He did -not soon forget the look in the face of the man who answered him. - -“Peace! We do want peace--but not peace without honour! And no minister -fit to preach preaches anything like that! Don’t think it of us!” - -“Well, I used to hear Doctor Curtin--the man before you. He seemed to -think---- But I didn’t agree with him,” Tom hastened to say, suddenly -deciding it best not to quote the pacific utterances of the former -holder of the priestly office. “I thought we ought to go to it. If this -country ever does get into it--though Dad thinks it’ll all be settled -this year--you bet I’ll enlist.” - -“Enlist! I should say so!” And Black took up the paper again, eagerly -reading aloud the account which followed the headlines of the sturdy -holding of the fiercely contested ground at Verdun--that name which -will be remembered while the world lasts. - -He looked up at length to find that the other customer had gone, and -that Miss Ray, the shopkeeper, had come forward. He looked into a face -which reflected his own pride in the French prowess, and forgot for the -instant that he had come to buy of her or that she was there to sell. - -“It’s great, isn’t it--the way they are holding?” she said, in a -pleasant, low voice. - -“Great?--it’s glorious! By the way--how do you get hold of this late -edition so early?” - -“Have it sent up by special messenger from the city. Otherwise it would -be held over with the rest of the papers till the two o’clock train.” - -Tom broke in. “Pretty clever of you, _I_ say, Miss Ray. Just like the -rest of your business methods--always ahead of the other fellow!” - -“Thank you, Mr. Lockhart,” Miss Ray answered. “It wouldn’t do to let -one’s methods become as antique as one’s goods in this case, would it?” - -“Miss Ray, I want to present my friend, Mr. Black.” Tom forgot his new -friend’s title as he made this introduction, but of course it didn’t -matter. Though Miss Ray seldom attended church anywhere, she could -hardly fail, in the talkative suburban town, to know that at the “Stone -Church” there was a new man. “He wants to get some of his pictures -framed, and of course I led him here,” added Tom, with his boyish grin. -He looked at Miss Ray with his usual frankly admiring gaze. No doubt -but she was worth it. Not often does a woman shopkeeper achieve the -subtle effect of being a young hostess in her own apartments as did -Jane Ray. And, as every woman shopkeeper knows, that is the highest, as -it is the most difficult, art of shopkeeping. - -She scanned the pictures--one that of the hurdle race, the other a -view of a country road, with a white spired church in the distance. -In no time she had them fitted into precisely the right frames, these -enhancing their values as well-chosen frames do. Delighted but still -cautious, Black inquired the prices. Miss Ray mentioned them, adding -the phrase with which he was familiar, “with the clerical discount.” - -“Thank you!” acknowledged Black. “What are they without the discount, -please?” - -Miss Ray glanced at him. “I am accustomed to give it,” she observed. - -“I am accustomed not to take it,” said the Scotsman, firmly. “But I’m -just as much obliged.” - -She smiled, and told him the regular price. He counted this out, -expressed his pleasure in having found precisely what he wanted, and -led the way out. - -Jane Ray looked after his well-set shoulders, noting that he did not -put his hat upon his close-cut, inclined-to-be-wirily-curly black hair -until he had reached the street. Then she looked down at the money in -her hand. “Wouldn’t take a discount--and didn’t ask me to come to his -church,” she commented to herself. “Must be rather a new sort.” She -then promptly dismissed him from her thoughts--until later in the day, -when the memory was brought back to her by another incident. - -It was well along in the afternoon, and she had just sold a genuine -Eli Terry “grandfather” clock at a fair profit, and had bargained for -and secured several very beautiful pieces of Waterford glass which she -had long coveted. A succession of heavy showers had cleared her shop, -and she had found time to open a long roll which the expressman had -delivered in the morning, when the shop door admitted a person to whom -she turned an eager face. - -“Oh, I’m glad it’s you!” she said. “Come and see what I have _now_!” - -“Nothing doing,” replied R. P. Burns, M.D., with, however, a smile -which belied his words. “I want a present for a sick baby I’m going -to fix up in the morning. One of those painted Russian things of -yours--the last boy went crazy over ’em. No time for antiques.” - -“This isn’t an antique--it’s the last word from the front, and _you’ll_ -go crazy over _it_,” replied Miss Ray. Nevertheless she left the roll -and went to a corner in the back of the shop given over to all sorts -of foreign made and fascinating wooden toys. She selected a bear with -a wide smile and feet which walked, and a gay-hued parrot on a stick, -and took them to the big man who was waiting, like Mercury, poised on -an impatient foot. While he counted out the change she slipped over -to her roll of heavy papers, took out one, and when he looked up again -it was straight into a great French war poster held at the length of -Jane’s extended arms. He stared hard at it, and well he might, for it -was by one of the most famous of French artists, whose imagination had -been flaming with the vision of the desperate day. - -“Well, by Joe!” Burns ejaculated, his hurry forgot. “I say----” - -The poster’s owner waited quietly, lost to view behind the big sheet. -Burns studied every detail of the picture, losing no suggestion -indicated by the clever lines of the inspired pencil. It was only a -rough sketch, impressionistic to the last degree, yet holding unspoken -volumes in each bold outline. Then he drew a deep breath. - -“Where did you get it?” he asked, as Jane lowered the poster. His eye -went back to the roll lying half opened on a mahogany table near by. - -“They were sent over by an officer I know--straight from Paris. That -isn’t the most wonderful one by half, but I want you to see the rest -when you’re not so rushed for time.” - -“I’m not particularly rushed,” replied Burns, with a grin. “At least, -I can stop if you’ve any more like this. I have to tear in and out of -your place, you know, because there’s always some idiot lurking behind -one of your screens to leap out and ask me searching questions about -patients. If you’ll bar your doors to the public some day, I’ll come -and spend an hour gazing at your stuff. Let’s see the posters, please.” - -Jane spread them out, one after another, till half the shop was -covered. Burns walked from poster to poster, intent, frowning with -interest, his quick intelligence recognizing the extraordinary -impressions he was getting, his own imagination firing under the -stimulus of an art at its marvellous best. Before one of the smaller -posters he lingered longest--a wash drawing in colour of a poilu -holding his child in his arms, with its mother looking into his face. - -“He’s just a kid, that fellow,” he said, in a smothered tone, “just a -kid, but he’s giving ’em both up. He won’t come back--somehow you know -that. And--it doesn’t seem to matter, if he helps save his country. -See here--you ought to do something with these. If the people of this -town could see them, a few more of them might wake up to the idea that -there’s a war on somewhere.” - -“As soon as some English ones come I’ve sent for I intend to have an -exhibition, here in my shop, and sell them--for the benefit of French -and Belgian orphans. I expect to get all kinds of prices. Will you -auction them off for me?” - -“You bet I will--if I can do it explosively enough. I’d do anything on -earth for a little chap like that.” He indicated a wistful Belgian baby -at the edge of a group of children. “Here are our youngsters, fed up -within an inch of their lives, and these poor little duffers living on -scraps, and too few of those. Oh, what a contrast! As for ourselves--we -come around and buy antiques to make our homes more stunning!” - -He looked her in the eye, and she looked steadily back. Then she went -over to an impressive Georgian desk, opened a drawer and took out a -black-bound book. Returning, she silently held it out to him. It was a -text book on nursing, one of those required in a regulation hospital -course. - -“Eh? What?” he ejaculated, taking the book. “Studying, are you--all -by yourself? How far are you?” He flipped the pages. “I see. Are you -serious?--You, a successful business woman? What do you want to do it -for?” - -“Absolutely serious. This country will go into the war some day--it -must, or I can’t respect it any more. And when it does--well, keeping -an antique shop will be the deadest thing there is. I’ll nail up the -door and go ‘over there.’” - -“And not to collect curios this time?” His bright hazel eyes were -studying her intently. - -“Hardly. To be of use, if I can. I thought the more I knew of -nursing----” - -“You can’t get very far alone, you know.” - -“I can get far enough so that when I do manage to take a course I can -rush it--can’t I?” - -“Don’t know--hard to cut any red tape. But all preparation counts, of -course. Well--I’ll give you a question to answer that’ll show up what -you do know.” - -He proceeded to do this, considering for a minute, and then firing at -her not one but a series of interrogations. These were not unkindly -technical, but designed to test her practical knowledge of the -pages--which according to the marker he had found--she had evidently -lately finished. The answers she gave him appeared to satisfy him, -though he did not say so. Instead, closing the book with a snap, he -said: - -“When you sail my wife and I will be on the same ship. We’d be there -now if we had our way--it’s all we talk about. Well----” - -And he was about to say that he must hurry like mad now to make up for -time well lost, when the shop door opened to admit out of a sharp dash -of rain a customer who was trying to shelter a flat package beneath -his coat. For the second time that day Robert Black was bringing -pictures to be framed; in fact, they were the rest of the pile which he -had not ventured to bring the first time, lest Miss Ray’s prices be too -high for him. - -Red gave him one look, and would have fled, but Black did not make for -the big doctor with outstretched hand--in fact, he did not seem to see -him. At the very front of the shop stood a particularly distinguished -looking Hepplewhite sideboard, its serpentine front exquisitely inlaid -with satinwood, its location one to catch the eye. It caught Black’s -eye--but not because of any cunning design of maker or shopkeeper. -Having filled the available space in the rear of the shop with her -war posters, Jane had worked toward the front, and the last and most -splendid of them she had propped upon the sideboard. In front of -it Black now came to a standstill, and Red, intending to leave the -place in haste at sight of the minister he was in no hurry to meet, -involuntarily paused to note the effect upon the “Kid”--as he persisted -in calling him--of the poster’s touchingly convincing appeal. - -It was a drawing in black and white of a French mother taking leave -of her son, that subject which has employed so many clever pens -and brushes since the war began, but than which there is none more -universally powerful in its importunity. The indomitable courage in the -face of the Frenchwoman had in it a touch beyond that of the ordinary -artist to convey--one could not analyze it, but it gripped the heart -none the less, as Red himself could testify. He now watched it grip -Black. - -Without taking his eyes from the picture Black propped his umbrella -against a chair, laid his hat and his package upon it, and stood still -before the Frenchwoman and her boy, unconscious of anything else. And -as he stood there, slowly his hands, hanging at his sides, became fists -which clenched themselves. Red, observing, his own hand upon the big -wrought-iron latch of the door, paused still a moment longer. The “Kid” -cared, did he? How much did he care, then? Red found himself rather -wanting to know. - -Black looked up at last, saw the other man, saw that he was the quarry -he was so anxious to run down, but only said, as his gaze returned to -the poster, “And she’s only one of thousands, all with a spirit like -that!” - -“Only one,” Red agreed. “They’re astonishing, those Frenchwomen.” Then -he went on out and closed the door behind him. - -After he had gone he admitted to himself that since his wife was a -member of this man’s church, and Black probably knew that fact, he -himself might have stayed long enough to shake hands. At close range -his eyesight, trained to observe, had not been able to avoid noting -that Black was no boy, after all. There had been that in the face he -had momentarily turned toward Red to show plainly that he was in the -full first maturity of manhood. It may be significant that from this -moment, in whatever terms Red spoke of the minister at home when he -was forced by the exigencies of conversation to mention him at all, he -ceased to call him “the Kid.” So, though Black did not know it, he had -passed at least one barrier to getting to know the man he meant to make -his friend. - - - - -CHAPTER III - -NO ANÆSTHETIC - - -Of course the day came, as it inevitably must, when Black and Red -actually met, face to face, with no way out but to shake hands, look -each other in the eye, and consider their acquaintance made? No, -that day of proper introduction never came. But the day did come on -which they looked each other in the eye without shaking hands--and -another day, a long time after, they did shake hands. As to their -friendship--but that’s what this story is about. - -The day on which they looked each other in the eye first was on a -Sunday morning, rather early. Black had done a perfectly foolhardy -thing. It was a late June day, and the cherries in a certain tree just -outside his bathroom window were blood-red ripe and tempting. Fresh -from his cold tub--clad in shirt and trousers, unshaven--his mouth -watering at the thought of eating cherries before breakfast, he climbed -out of the window upon the sloping roof of the side porch, and let -himself down to the edge to reach the cherries. He never knew how the -fool thing happened, really; the only thing he did know was that he -slipped suddenly upon the edge of the roof, wet with an early morning -shower, and fell heavily to the ground below, striking on his right -shoulder. And then, presently, he was sitting at the telephone in his -study, addressing R. P. Burns, M.D., in terms which strove to be -casual, inviting him to make a morning call at the manse. - -“I’d come over myself,” he explained, “but I’m ashamed to say I’m a -trifle shaky.” - -“Naturally,” replied the crisp voice at the other end of the wire. “Go -and lie down till I get there.” - -“Please have your breakfast first,” requested Black, struggling hard to -master a growing faintness. Whatever he had done to his shoulder, it -hurt rather badly, though he didn’t mind that so much as the idea of -disgracing himself in Burns’ eyes by going white and flabby over what -was probably a trivial injury. To be sure he couldn’t use his arm, but -it didn’t occur to him that he had actually dislocated that shoulder by -so trifling a means as a slip from the manse roof. The manse roof, of -all places! It wasn’t built for incumbent ministers to go upon, between -a bath and a shave, and tumble from like a little boy--and on a Sunday -morning, too! - -The answer Red gave to Black’s suggestion that he have breakfast before -coming resembled a grunt more than anything else. Black couldn’t -determine whether the red-headed doctor meant to do it or not. The -question was settled within five minutes by the arrival of Red, who -came straight in at the open manse door, followed the call Black gave, -“In here, please--at your left,” and appeared in the study doorway, -surgical bag in his hand, and a somewhat grim expression--with which -Black had already become familiar at a distance--upon his lips. Black -sat in his red-cushioned wooden rocker, that most incongruous piece of -furniture in the midst of the black walnut dignity of the manse study, -and in it his appearance suggested that of a sick boy who has taken -refuge in his mother’s arms. Indeed, it may have been with somewhat -of that feeling that he had chosen it as the place in which to wait -the coming of aid. Anyhow, his face, under its unshaven blur of beard, -looked rather white, though his voice was steady. - -“Mighty sorry to bother you at this hour, Doctor Burns,” he began, but -was interrupted. - -“Didn’t I tell you to lie down? What’s the use of sitting up and -getting faint?” - -“I’m all right.” - -“Yes, I see! All alone here? Thought you had a housekeeper.” Red was -opening up his bag and laying out supplies as he spoke. - -“I have. She’s gone home for over Sunday.” - -“They usually have--when anything happens. Well, come over here on this -couch, if you can walk, and we’ll see what the trouble is.” - -Black demonstrated that he could walk, though it was with considerable -effort. Through all his undeniable faintness he was thinking with some -exultation that this was a perfectly good chance to meet Red--and on -his own ground, too. What luck! - -Red made a brief examination. - -“You’ve fixed that shoulder, all right,” he announced. “No -matter--we’ll have you under a whiff of ether, and reduce it in a -jiffy.” - -“Thanks--no ether, please. You mean I’ve dislocated it?” inquired the -patient, speaking with some difficulty. - -“Good and proper. Here you are----” And without loss of time a -peculiarly shaped article, made of wire and gauze and smelling -abominably, came over Black’s face. It was instantly removed. - -“I believe I said no ether, if you please!” remarked an extraordinarily -obstinate voice. - -“Nonsense, man! I’m only going to give you enough to relax you. I see -some good stiff muscles there that may give me trouble.” - -“Ether’ll make me sick, and I’ve got to preach this morning.” - -“Preach--nothing!” - -“It may be nothing,” agreed the patient, “but I’m going to preach it, -just the same. And I won’t have an anæsthetic, thank you just as much, -Doctor.” - -Red said no more. No surgeon but is astute enough to tell whether -a patient is bluffing or whether he means it. Unquestionably, -though Black’s face was the colour of ashes, he meant it. Therefore -Red proceeded to reduce the dislocation, without the advantage to -himself--or to the patient--of the relaxing aid of the anæsthetic. It -was a bad dislocation, and it took the doctor’s own sturdy muscles and -all his professional skill to do the trick in a few quick, efficient -moves and one tremendous pull. But it was all over in less time that it -takes to tell it, and only one low groan had escaped Black’s tightly -pressed lips. Nevertheless his forehead was wet and cold when he lay -limp at the end of that bad sixty seconds. - -A strong arm came under his shoulders, and a glass was held to his -lips. “Drink this--you’ll be all right in a minute,” said a rather -far-away voice, and Black obediently swallowed something which he -didn’t much like--and which he probably would have refused to take -if he had suspected that it was going to help buck him up the way it -did. He had an absurd idea of not allowing himself to be bucked up by -anything but his own will--not in the presence of Red, anyhow. - -“Some nerve--for a preacher,” presently said the voice which sounded -nearer now. - -“Why--a preacher?” inquired Black, as belligerently as a man can who -is stretched upon his back with his coat off, his arm being bandaged -to his side, and a twenty-four hours’ growth of beard on his somewhat -aggressive chin. - -“Never mind,” Red commanded. “We won’t have it out now. I don’t blame -you--that was hitting a man when he’s down.” - -“I’m not down.” Black attempted to sit up. A vigorous arm detained him -where he was. - -“Just keep quiet a few minutes, and you’ll be the gainer in the end. By -the way--can you shave with your left hand?” - -“I never tried it.” Black’s left hand took account of his cheek and -chin. “I was just going to shave when those--fool--cherries caught my -eye.” - -“Where’s your shaving stuff?” - -Black looked up, startled. “Oh, I can’t let you----” - -“Who’s going to do it? If you must preach, you don’t want to go to it -looking like a pugilist, do you? Though I’m not so sure----” Red left -the sentence unfinished, while a wicked smile played round his lips. - -“I’ll do it myself--or send for a barber.” - -“Oh, come on, Black! I’m perfectly competent to do the job, and now -I’ve got my hand in on you I’d like to leave you looking the part you -wouldn’t insist on playing if you weren’t pretty game. I’m not so sure -I ought to let you----” - -“I’d like to see you help it,” declared Black, and now he was smiling, -too, and feeling distinctly better. - -So it ended by Red’s going upstairs after the shaving materials, -and then shaving Black, and doing it with decidedly less finish of -style than might have been expected of a crack surgeon with a large -reputation. He cut his victim once, and Black, putting up a hand -and getting it all blood and lather, grinned up into Red’s face, who -grinned back and expressed his regret at the slip. This does not mean -that they had become friends--not from Red’s standpoint, at least, who -would have befriended a sick dog and then shot him without compunction -because he didn’t want him around. But it does mean that at last the -two had met, on a man-to-man basis, and that Red’s respect for the -man he had been in no hurry to meet had been considerably augmented. -Black was pretty sure of this, and it helped to brace him more than the -stimulant had done. - -Two hours later Red cut a call on a rich patient much shorter than was -politic, in order to get to the Stone Church in time to slip into a -back pew. Before going in he gave young Perkins instructions not to -call him out before the sermon ended for anything short of murder on -the church doorstep, surprising that lively usher very much, since -it was the first time such a thing had ever happened. In making this -effort Red had Black in mind as a patient rather than a minister. A -severe dislocation must naturally cause a certain amount of nervous -shock which might prove disastrous to a man attempting to carry -through a long service and spend most of the period upon his feet, -within two hours after the accident occurred. Game though Black might -be--well--Red admitted to himself that he rather wanted to see how -the fellow whom he could no longer call “the Kid” would see the thing -through. - -Reactions are curious things. In this case, though it was true that -Black had to steady himself more than once to keep his congregation -from whirling dizzily and disconcertingly before his eyes, had to set -his teeth and summon every ounce of will he possessed to keep on -through the first three quarters of his service, after all it was Red -who got the most of the reaction. For the sermon which Black preached -contained a bomb thrown straight at the heads of a parish which, with -half the world at war, was in its majority distinctly pacifist--as was -many another church during the year of 1916. Black, before his sermon -was done, had taken an out-and-out, unflinching stand for the place -of the Church in times of war, and had declared that it must be on -the side of the sword, when the sword was the only weapon which could -thrust its way to peace. - -Red, listening closely, forgetting that the man before him was his -patient, found himself involuntarily admitting that whatever else he -was, Robert McPherson Black was fearless in his speech. And there was -probably no use in denying that the fellow had a way of putting things -that, as James Macauley had asserted, effectually prevented the man in -the pew from becoming absorbed in reveries of his own. It had been by -no means unusual for R. P. Burns, surgeon, expecting to do a critical -operation on Monday morning, to perform that operation in detail on -Sunday morning, while sitting with folded arms and intent expression -before a man who was endeavouring to interest him in spiritual affairs. -On the present occasion, however, though the coming Monday’s clinical -schedule was full to the hatches, Red was unable to detach himself for -a moment from the subject being handled so vigorously by Black. Thus, -listening through to the closing words, he discovered himself to be -aflame with fires which another hand had kindled, and that hand, most -marvellously, a preacher’s. - -Young Perkins, hovering close to the rear seat into which Red had -stolen upon coming in just before the sermon, considered the embargo -raised with the closing words of Black, and had his whispered summons -ready precisely as Black began his brief closing prayer. The scowl with -which Red motioned him away surprised Perkins very much, causing him to -retreat to the outer door, where in due season he delivered his message -to the leisurely departing doctor--departing leisurely because he was -eavesdropping. - -“Well, I don’t know about that,” he had overheard one man of prominence -saying to another in the vestibule. “Strikes me that’s going pretty -strong. What’s the use of stirring up trouble? That sort of talk’s -going to offend. Pulpit’s not called upon to go into matters of -state--particularly now, when public sentiment’s so divided. Somebody -better put a flea in his ear, eh?” - -The other man nodded. “I believe a good deal as he does myself,” he -admitted, cautiously, “but I don’t hold with offending people who have -as good a right to their opinions as he has. I saw Johnstone wriggling -more than once, toward the last--and he’s about the last man we want to -make mad.” - -R. P. Burns laid a heavy hand on the speaker’s arm. Turning, the other -man looked into a pair of contemptuous hazel eyes, with whose glance, -both friendly and fiery, he had been long familiar. “Oh, _rot_!” said a -low voice in his ear. - -“What do you mean?” - -“Just that. Think it out.” And Burns was gone, in the press, with the -quickness now of one accustomed to get where he would go, no matter how -many were in the way. - -He marched around to the vestry door, where he found Black standing, -his gown off, his face gone rather white, though it had been full of -colour when Red saw it last. - -“Faint?” he asked. - -“No--thanks, I’m all right. Just thought I’d like a whiff of fresh air.” - -“Take a few deep breaths. I’ll give you a pick-up, if you say so.” - -Black shook his head. “I’m all right,” he repeated. - -“Shoulder ache?” - -“Not much. I’m all right, I tell you, Doctor. Can’t you get over the -idea that a preacher is a man of straw? Why, I--will you try a wrestle -with me, sometime--when my shoulder’s fit again?” - -Red laughed. “Down you in two minutes and fifteen seconds,” he -prophesied. - -“Try it, and see.” And Black walked back into the church, his cheek -losing its pallor in a hurry. - - * * * * * - -On that Sunday the Lockharts, his first entertainers, insisted that he -come to dinner. Though he had kept his slung shoulder and arm under -his gown, the facts showed plainly, and the congregation was full of -sympathy. With his housekeeper away, Black could find no way out, -though he would have much preferred remaining quietly in his study, -with four cups of coffee of his own amateur making, and whatever he -could find in his larder left over from Saturday. - -So he went to the Lockharts’, and there he met a person who had been -in his congregation that morning, but whom he had not noted. She had -seen that he had not noted her, but she had made up her mind that -such blindness should not long continue. Her appearance was one well -calculated to arrest the eye of man, and Black’s eye, though it was -accustomed to dwell longer upon man than upon woman, was not one -calculated by Nature to be altogether and indefinitely undiscerning. - -With Annette Lockhart, daughter of the house, the guest, Miss Frances -Fitch, a former school friend, held a brief consultation just before -Black’s arrival. - -“Think he’s the sort to fall for chaste severity, or feminine -frivolity, when it comes to dress, Nanny?” - -Miss Lockhart looked her friend over. “You’re just the same old -plotter, aren’t you, Fanny Fitch?” she observed, frankly. “Well, it -will take all you can do, and then some, if you expect to interest Mr. -Black. But--if you want my advice--I should say chaste severity was -your line.” - -“There’s where you show your unintelligence,” declared Miss Fitch. “I -shall be as frilly as I can, because you yourself are a model of smooth -and tailored fitness, and he will want a relief for his eyes. He shall -find it in me. Really, wasn’t he awfully game to preach, with that -shoulder?” - -“He’s a Scot,” said Nan Lockhart. “Of course he would, if it killed -him.” - -The result of this exchange of views was that Miss Fitch appeared -looking like a fascinating young saint in a sheer white frock. -Had she a white heart? Well, anyhow, she looked the embodiment of -ingenuousness, for her masses of fair hair were too curly to be -entirely subdued, no matter how confined, and her deep blue eyes -beneath the blonde locks might have been those of a beautiful child. - -“Oh, I say!” ejaculated Tom Lockhart, when she first came downstairs, -the transformation from her dark smoothness of church garb to this -spring-like outburst of whiteness hitting him full in his vulnerable -young heart--as usual. - -“Well--like me, Tommy dear?” asked Fanny Fitch, letting her fingers -rest for the fraction of a second on his dark-blue coat-sleeve. - -“Like you!” breathed Tom. “I say--why did I bring him home to dinner? -Now you’ll just fascinate him--and forget me!” - -“Forget _you_? Why, Tom!” And Miss Fitch gave him an enchanting glance -which made his heart turn over. Then she went on into the big living -room, where Robert McPherson Black, damaged shoulder and arm in a fine -black silk sling, the colour now wholly restored to his interesting -face, rose courteously to be presented to her. Of course he did -not know it, but it was at that moment that he encountered a quite -remarkable combination of the world, the flesh, and the devil. Up to -now he had met each of these tremendous forces separately, but never -before all together in one slim girl’s form. And yet, right here, it -must be definitely asserted and thoroughly assimilated, that Fanny -Fitch was what is known as an entirely “nice” girl, and in her heart -at that hour was nothing which could be called an evil intent. The -worst that could be said of her was that she was ruthless in exacting -tribute--even as Cæsar. And when her eye had fallen upon the minister, -with his right arm out of commission but the rest of him exceedingly -assertive of power, she had coveted him. To her, the rest seemed easy. - -As to Black--he was not “easy.” In his very young manhood he had loved -very much the pretty daughter of his Southern employer, but she had -been as far out of his reach as the furthermost star in the bright -constellations which nightly met his eye in the skies above him. When -she had married he had firmly and definitely put the thought of woman -out of his head, and had formulated a code concerning the whole sex -intended to hold throughout his ministry. During his entire first -pastorate he had been a model of discretion--as a young minister in a -country community must be, if he would not have his plans for service -tumbling about his ears. Fortunately for him he was, by temperament and -by training, not over susceptible to any ordinary feminine environment -or approach. He had a hearty and wholesome liking for the comradeship -of men, greatly preferring it to the frequent and unavoidable -association with women necessary in the workings of church affairs. -Even when his eye first rested upon the really enchanting beauty of -Miss Fanny Fitch, if he could have exchanged her, as his companion at -the Lockhart dinner table, for R. P. Burns, M.D., he would have done it -in the twinkling of an eye. For had not Red shaved him that morning, -and wasn’t another barrier most probably well down? It was of that he -was thinking, and not, just then, of her. - -But she forced him to think of her--it was an art in which she was a -finished performer. She did it by cutting up for him that portion of a -crown roast of spring lamb which Mr. Samuel Lockhart sent to him upon -his plate. Up to that moment, throughout the earlier courses, he had -been engaged with the rest in a general discussion of the subject of -the war, quite naturally brought up by the sermon of the morning. But -when it came to regarding helplessly the food which now appeared before -him unmanageable by either fork or spoon, he found himself for the -first time talking with Miss Fitch alone, while the conversation of the -others went ahead upon a new tack. - -“Oh, but this makes me think of how many poor fellows have to have -their food cut up for them, over there,” she was saying, as her -pretty, ringless fingers expertly prepared the tender meat for his -consumption. “While you were speaking this morning I was wishing, as -I’ve been wishing ever since this terrible war began, that I could be -really helping, on the other side. If it hadn’t been for my mother, who -is quite an invalid, I should have gone long ago. You made it all so -_real_----” - -A man may tell himself that he doesn’t like flattery, but if it is -cleverly administered--and if, though he is modest enough, he can’t -help knowing himself that he has done a good thing in a fine way--how -can he quite help being human enough to feel a glow of pleasure? If -it’s not overdone--and Miss Fitch knew much better than that--much can -thus be accomplished in breaking down a masculine wall of reserve. -Black’s wall didn’t break that Sunday--oh, not at all--but it -undeniably did crumble a little bit along the upper edges. - -After dinner was over, however, as if he were somehow subtly aware that -the wall was undergoing an attack, Black withdrew with the other men to -the further end of the living room to continue to talk things over. He -was at some pains to seat himself so that he was facing these men, and -had no view down the long room to the other end, where the women were -gathered. - -Miss Fitch, looking his way from a corner of a great divan, sent a -smile and a wave toward Tom, who, torn between allegiance to Fanny -and his new and absorbing devotion to Black, had for the time being -followed the men. Then she said negligently to Nan Lockhart: - -“Your minister certainly has a stunning profile. Look at it there -against that dark-blue curtain.” - -Nan looked for an instant, then back at her guest. “Oh, Fanny!” she -murmured, rebukingly, “don’t you ever get tired of that game?” - -“What game, my dear?” - -“Oh--playing for every last one of them!” answered Annette Lockhart, -with some impatience. She was a dark-eyed young woman with what might -be called a strong face, by no means unattractive in its clean-cut -lines. She had a personality all her own; she had been a leader -always; people liked Nan Lockhart, and believed in her thoroughly. Her -friendship for Fanny Fitch was a matter of old college ties--Fanny -was nobody’s fool, and she was clever enough to keep a certain hold -upon Nan through the exercise of a rather remarkable dramatic talent. -Nan had written plays, and Fanny had acted them; and now that college -days were over they had plans for the future which meant a continued -partnership in the specialty of each. - -“Interested in him yourself, I judge,” Miss Fitch replied teasingly. -“Don’t worry! The chances are all with you. He’s horribly sober -minded--he’ll fall for your sort sooner than for mine.” - -But a certain gleam in her eyes said something else--that she was quite -satisfied with the beginning she had made. Another man might have taken -a seat where he could look at her; that Black deliberately looked the -other way this astute young person considered proof positive that he -found her unexpectedly distracting to his thoughts. - -When, at the end of an hour, Black turned around, ready to take his -farewell, Miss Fitch was absent from the room. He glanced about for -her, found her not, told himself that he was glad, and went out. As the -door of the living room closed behind him, she came down the stairs, -a white hat on her head, a white parasol in her hand. They passed out -of the house door together. At the street Miss Fitch turned in the -direction of the manse, two blocks away. Black paused and removed his -hat--with his left hand he did it rather awkwardly. - -“It’s been very pleasant to meet you,” he said. “Is your stay to be -long?” - -“Several weeks, I believe. Are you really going that way, Mr. Black--or -don’t you venture to walk down the street with any members of your -congregation except men?” - -He smiled. “I am really going this way, Miss Fitch--thank you! Would -you care to know where?” - -“To Doctor Burns--with your arm, I suppose. Is it very painful?” - -“It’s doing very well. Isn’t this a magnificent day? I hope you’ll have -a pleasant walk.” - -“I can hardly help it, thank you--I’m so fond of walking--which Nan -Lockhart isn’t--hard luck for me! Good-bye--and I shall not soon forget -what I heard this morning.” - -Her parting smile was one to remember--not a bit of pique that he -hadn’t responded to her obvious invitation--no coquetry in it either, -just charming friendliness, exceedingly disarming. As he turned away, -striding off in the opposite direction from that which he naturally -would have taken, he was frowning a little and saying to himself that -it was going to be rather more difficult to keep the old guard up in -a place like this than it had been in his country parish. His good -Scottish conscience told him that though in deciding on the instant -to make Doctor Burns a visit he had committed himself to something he -didn’t want to do at all--go and bother the difficult doctor with his -shoulder when it wasn’t necessary--he must do it now just the same, to -square the thing. Heavens and earth--why shouldn’t he walk down the -street with a beautiful young woman in white if she happened to be -going his way, instead of putting himself out to go where he hated to, -just to avoid her? Not that he cared to walk with her--he didn’t--he -preferred not to. And the doctor would think him a weakling, after all, -if he came to him complaining, as was the truth, that his shoulder was -aching abominably, and his head to match, and that his pulse seemed to -be jumping along unpleasantly. Well---- - -Just then R. P. Burns went by in his car at a terrific and wholly -inexcusable speed, evidently rushing out of town. Black, recognizing -him, breathed a sigh of relief. But he went around seven blocks to get -back to the Manse without a chance of meeting anybody in white. At a -very distant sight of anybody clothed all in white he turned up the -first street, and this naturally lengthened his trip. So that when he -was finally within the Manse’s sheltering walls he was very glad to -give up bluffing for the day, and to stretch himself upon the leather -couch in the study where that morning he had doggedly refused an -anæsthetic. He rather wished he had one now! Confound it--he felt that -he had been a fool more than once that day. Why should ministers have -to act differently from other men, in any situation whatever? He made -up his mind that the next time he climbed out on a slippery roof on a -Sunday morning--well, he would do it if he wanted to! But the next time -he turned up a side street to avoid anybody--or changed his direction -because anybody was going the same way---- - -When he woke an hour later it was because his shoulder really was -extremely sore and painful. But he wouldn’t have called Burns if he -had known that that skillful surgeon could take away every last twinge. -Anyhow--Burns had shaved him that morning! There was that that was -good to remember about the day. Sometime--he would come closer to the -red-headed doctor than that! - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -NOBODY TO SAY A PRAYER - - -Mrs. Hodder, housekeeper at the manse, breathed a heavy sigh as she -poured the minister’s breakfast coffee. He looked up, as she had known -he would; his ear seemed to be sensitive to sighs. - -“It’s queer, how things go for some people,” she said. “I can’t get -over feeling that a body should have Christian burial, no matter what -the circumstances is.” - -“Tell me about it,” said Black promptly. Mrs. Hodder was not a -talker--he did not think she was a gossip. She had been selected for -him by his good friend Mrs. Lockhart, who had had in mind the necessity -of finding the minister a housekeeper built on these desirable lines. -Mrs. Hodder came as near such lines as seemed humanly possible, though -she had her faults. So had the minister, as he was accustomed to remind -himself, whenever he discovered a new one in his housekeeper. - -So Mrs. Hodder told him, and as he listened a peculiar frown appeared -between his eyebrows. The thing she told him was of the sort to touch -him to the quick. The moment he had finished his breakfast--which he -did in a hurry--he went into the study, closed the door, and called -up a certain undertaker, whom--as is the case with the men of Black’s -profession--he had come to know almost before he knew the leading men -of his church. - -“Oh, that’s nothing that need interest you, Mr. Black,” replied the -man of gloomy affairs, in the cheerful tone he employed out of working -hours. “It’s out in a community where there isn’t any church--folks are -dead against the church, at that. Nobody expects any service--there -won’t be but a handful there, anyhow. There’s only the girl’s -grandmother for relatives--and the thing’s best kept quiet. See?” - -“I see. What time are you to leave the house?” - -“Ten o’clock. But you----” - -“There wouldn’t be any actual objection to my coming, would there, Mr. -Munson?” - -“Why--I suppose not. They simply don’t expect it--not used to it. And -in this case--if you understand----” - -“I do understand--and I very much want to come. The trolley runs within -two miles, I believe.” - -“Why--yes. But I can send for you, if you insist--only--you know -they’re poor as poverty----” - -“I want the walk, and I’ll catch the trolley--thank you. If I should be -a bit late----” - -“Oh, I’ll hold the thing for you--and--well, it’s certainly very good -of you, Mr. Black. I admit I like to see such things done right myself.” - -The conversation ended here, and Black ran for his trolley, with only -time to snatch a small, well-worn black leather handbook from his desk. -He had no time for a change of clothes--which he wouldn’t have made -in any case, though he was not accustomed to dress in clerical style -upon the street, except in so far as a dark plainness of attire might -suggest his profession rather than emphasize it. - -He had two minutes to spare on a street corner, waiting for his car. -On that corner was a florist’s shop. Catching sight of a window full -of splendid roses he rushed in, gave an order which made the girl in -charge work fast, and managed to speed up the whole transaction so -successfully that when he swung on to the moving step he had a slim -box under his arm. Only a dozen pink rosebuds--Black had never bought -florist’s roses in armfuls--but somehow he had felt he must take -them. How account for this impulse--since the Scotch are not notably -impulsive? But--right here it will have to be confessed that Black had -in his veins decidedly more than a trace of Irish blood. And now it’s -out--and his future history may be better understood for the admission. - -Some time after Black had caught his trolley, R. P. Burns, M.D., -brought his car to a hurried standstill in front of Jane Ray’s shop -in the side street, and all but ran inside. The shop was empty at the -moment, and Jane came forward at his call. He put a quick question: - -“Have you heard anything of Sadie Dunstan lately?” - -“Nothing--for a long time. I can’t even find out where she has gone.” - -“I can tell you--but it will startle you. There’s no time to break it -gently, or I would. She got into trouble, and--came home to--die.” - -Jane was looking him straight in the face as he spoke, and he saw the -news shock her, as he had known it would. Sadie Dunstan was a little, -fair-haired girl who had been Jane’s helper in the shop for a year, and -in whom Jane had taken great interest. Then she had gone away--West -somewhere--had written once or twice--had failed to write--Jane had -unwillingly lost track of her. And now--here was Burns and his news. - -“Where is she? Is she--still living?” Jane’s usually steady voice was -unsteady. - -“No. She’s to be buried--within the hour. I just found it out--and -came for you. I thought you might like to go.” - -“I’ll be ready in three minutes. I’ll lock the shop----” - -Thus it was that two more people were shortly on their way to the -place where little Sadie Dunstan, unhonoured and unmourned--except for -one--lay waiting for the last offices earth could give her. But she was -to have greater dignity shown her than she could have hoped. - -“I did try to make a real woman of her,” said Jane, in a smothered -voice, when Red had told her what he knew of the pitiful story. Passing -the small house that morning he had seen the sign upon the door, -and remembering Jane Ray’s lost protégée, had stopped to inquire. A -neighbour had given him the tragic little history; the old grandmother, -deaf and half blind in her chimney corner, had added a harsh comment or -two; and only a young girl who said she was Sadie’s sister and had but -an hour before suddenly appeared from the unknown, had shown that she -cared what had happened to Sadie. - -“You did a lot for her,” asserted Burns. “I think the girl meant to -be straight. This was one of those under-promise-of-marriage affairs -which get the weak ones now and then. Poor little girl--she wouldn’t -have wanted you to know--or me. She didn’t give me a chance--though -there probably wasn’t one, anyway, by the time she got back here. I’ve -had her under my care many a time in her girlhood, you know--she was a -frail little thing, but mighty appealing. This younger sister is a good -deal like her, as she looked when you took her first.” - -“I knew she had a sister, but thought she was far away somewhere.” - -“In an orphanage till this last year. She’s only sixteen--a flower -of a girl--and crying her heart out for Sadie. The grandmother’s a -brute--the child can’t stay with her.” - -“She’ll not have to. I can make it up to Sadie--and I will.” - -Burns looked at the face in profile beside him. Jane Ray had a profile -which might have been characterized as sturdily sweet; the lines were -extremely attractive. Jane’s quiet dress, the simple hat upon her head, -were the last word in expensive, well-conceived fashion, but Burns -did not know this. He only knew that Miss Ray always looked precisely -as she ought to look--very nice, and a little distinguished, so that -one noticed her approvingly, and people who did not know her usually -wondered who she was. He was thinking as he glanced at her now that -if she meant to make it up to Sadie by taking her young sister under -her care, that sister would have an even better chance than Sadie had -had--and lost. - -“I wish we had brought some flowers,” Jane said suddenly, as the car -flew past the last houses of the main highway and began to climb the -hills into the country backroads. “This is such a benighted little spot -we’re going to--they may not have any at all.” - -“Doubt it. But there wasn’t time to hunt up flowers if we wanted to get -there. Munson’s in all kinds of a hurry to get this thing over. It’s -his busy day--as usual, when it happens to be a poor case. We’ll do -well if we make it now. Not much use in coming--there’ll be no service. -But we can at least see the box go down!” - -He spoke grimly. But Jane had caught sight of a rose-bush in a dooryard -crowded with white roses, and cried out imperiously: - -“Stop one minute, please, Doctor Burns. I’ll buy those roses or steal -them. Please!” - -The brakes ground, and Jane was out before the car stopped, pulling out -a plump little purse as she ran. A countrywoman hurrying to her door -to protest angrily at the spectacle of a girl filling her arms with -white roses was met with the call: “I’m going to give you a dollar for -them--please don’t stop me. It’s for a funeral, and we’re late now!” - -“Highway robbery,” commented Burns, as Jane sprang in beside him. “But -she’d have sold you her soul for a dollar--and dear at that.” - -“Oh, don’t talk about souls, up here,” Jane protested. “If your fine -new man at the Stone Church wanted a job worth while he’d leave the -smug people in the high-priced pews and come up here to look after -barbarians who’ll bury a poor girl without a prayer. Don’t I know, -without your telling me, that there’ll be no prayer?--unless you make -one?” She looked at him with sudden challenge. “I dare you to!” she -said, under her breath. - -Burns’ hazel glance, with a kindling fire in it, met hers. “I take the -dare,” he answered, without hesitation. “I know the Lord’s Prayer--and -the Twenty Third Psalm. I’m not afraid to say them--for Sadie Dunstan.” - -The cynicism in Jane’s beautifully cut lips melted unexpectedly into a -quiver, and she was silent after that, till the car dashed up the last -steep hill. They came out at the top almost in the dooryard of a small, -weather-beaten cottage in front of which stood an undertaker’s wagon, -two men, and half a dozen women. These people were just about to go -into the house, but stood back to let Doctor Burns--whom all of them -knew--and Miss Ray--whom one of them knew--go in ahead. - -As she went up the steps Jane braced herself for what she must see. -Little fair-haired Sadie--come to this so early--so tragically--and -nobody to care--nobody to say a prayer--except a red-headed doctor, -whose business it was not. At least--she had an armful of white roses. -She wanted to take one look at Sadie--and then lay the roses so that -they would cover her from the sight of the hard eyes all about her. -She would do that--just that. Why not? What better could she do? She -drew her breath deep, and set her lips, and walked into the poor little -room.... - -The thing she saw first was a glowing handful of wonderful pink -rosebuds upon the top of the cheap black box--one could not dignify it -by any other word than Burns had used--which held the chief position -in the room. And then, at the foot of the box, she saw a tall figure -with an open book in his hand come to do Sadie Dunstan honour. Jane Ray -caught back the sob of relief which had all but leaped to her lips. -She had not known, until that moment, how much she had wanted that -prayer--she, who did not pray--or thought she did not. - -Mr. Munson, in a hurry, watch in hand, allowed the few neighbours who -had come barely time to crowd into the small room before he signalled -the minister to go ahead and get it over. He was not an unfeeling man, -but he had two more services on for the day--costly affairs--and both -his assistants were ill, worse luck!, and he had had to look after this -country backwoods burial himself. He had noted with some surprise the -appearance of Doctor Burns and Miss Ray, though there was no use in -ever being surprised at anything the erratic doctor might do. As for -Miss Ray--he admired her very much, both for her charming personality -and her business ability, which compelled everybody’s respect. He -wondered what on earth brought her here--what brought all three of -them here, slowing things up when the body might have been committed -to the dust with the throwing of a few clods by his own competent -fingers--and everybody in this heathen community better satisfied than -the Stone Church man was likely to make them with his ritual. Thus -thought Mr. Munson in his own heart, and all but showed it in his face. - -But Black, though he held his book in his hand, gave them no -ritual--not here in the house. He had meant to read the usual service, -abbreviating and modifying it as he must. But somehow, as he had noted -one face after the other--the impassive faces of the few men and women, -the surlily stoic one of the old grandmother, the tear-wet one of the -wretched young sister in her shabby short frock--and then had glanced -just once at the set jaw of R. P. Burns and the desperate pity in the -dark eyes of Jane Ray, he had felt impelled to change his plan. - -Red, listening, now heard Black pray, as a man prays whose heart is -very full, but whose mind and lips can do his bidding under stress. It -was a very simple prayer--it could not be otherwise because Black was -praying with just one desire in his heart, to reach and be understood -by the one real mourner there before him. It is quite possible that -he remembered less the One to whom he spoke than this little one by -whom he wanted to be heard. It was for the little sobbing sister that -he formulated each direct, heart-touching phrase, that she might know -that after all there was Someone--a very great and pitiful Someone--who -knew and cared because she had lost all she had in a hard and unpitiful -world. And speaking thus, for her alone, Black quite forgot that Red -was listening--and Red, somehow, knew that he forgot. - -Jane Ray listened, too--it was not possible to do anything else. -Jane had never heard any one pray like that; she had not known it was -ever done. It was at that moment that she first knew that the man who -was speaking was a real man; such words could have been so spoken -by no man who was not real, no matter how clever an actor he might -be. Something in Jane’s heart which had been hard toward any man of -Black’s profession--because she had known one or two whom she could -not respect, and had trusted none of them on that account--softened a -little while Black prayed. At least--this man was real. And she was -glad--oh, glad--that he was saying words like these over the fair, -still head of Sadie Dunstan, and that the little sister, who looked so -like her that the sight of her shook Jane’s heart, could hear. - -Jane still held her roses when, after a while, the whole small group -stood in the barren, ill-kept burial place which was all this poor -community had in which to bestow its dead. It was only across the road -and over the hill by a few rods, and when Mr. Munson had been about to -send Sadie in his wagon, Black had whispered a word in his ear, and -then had taken his place at one side of the black box with its glowing -roses on the top. Red, discerning his intention, had taken two strides -to the other side, displacing a shambling figure of a man who was -slowly approaching for this duty. Mr. Munson, now seeing a revealing -light, waved the unwilling bearer aside, and himself took the other -end of the box. Together the three, looking like very fine gentlemen -all--in contrast to those who followed--bore Sadie in decorum to her -last resting place. - -Now came the ritual indeed--every word of it--brief and beautiful, with -its great phrases. When Mr. Munson, clods in hand, cast them at the -moment--“_ashes to ashes, dust to dust_,”--Jane flung her white roses -so swiftly down after them that the little sister never saw the dark -earth fall. Then she turned and took the trembling young figure in her -own warm arms--and looking up, over Sue’s head, Jane’s eyes, dark with -tears, met full the understanding, joyfully approving eyes of Robert -Black.... - -Striding down the hill, presently, having refused the offer of Mr. -Munson to take him back in his own small car, Black was passed by Red -and Jane, with a shabby little figure between them. At the foot of the -hill the car stopped, and waited for Black to catch up. He came to its -side, hat in hand, his eyes friendlily on Sue Dunstan, who looked up at -him shyly through red lids. - -“Will you ride on the running board--at least till we get to the -trolley?” offered Red. “I thought you had gone with Munson. What’s the -matter? Was he in too much of a hurry to look after the minister?” - -“No, he asked me. But I want to walk, thank you. I’m pretty fond of the -country, and don’t often get so far out.” - -“It was very good of you to come,” said Jane Ray, gravely. “It--made -all the difference. Mr. Munson told us he didn’t ask you--you offered. -But it’s impossible not to wonder how you knew.” - -“My housekeeper came from somewhere near this region--she told me. It -was very easy to come--easier than to stay away, after knowing. What -a day this is--and what a view! Don’t let me keep you--good-bye.” And -he turned away even before Red, always in a hurry though he was, would -have suggestively speeded his throbbing motor--a device by which he was -accustomed to make a get-away from a passer-by who had held him up. As -he went on Red put out an arm and waved a parting salute to the man -behind him, at which Black, seeing the friendly signal, smiled at the -landscape in general, addressing it thus: - -“You wouldn’t do that, Red-Head, if you weren’t beginning to like me -just a bit--now would you?” - -The car was barely out of sight when he heard a shriek behind him, and -turning, found himself pursued by one of the women who had been in the -cottage. She was waving a parcel at him--a small parcel done up in a -ragged piece of newspaper, as he saw when he had returned to meet her. -She explained that it contained some few belongings of Sue Dunstan -which the girl had forgotten. - -“They ain’t much, but she might want ’em. She won’t be comin’ back, I -guess--not if that Miss Ray keeps her that kept Sade before. She better -keep a lookout on Sue--she’s the same blood, an’ it ain’t no good.” - -“Thank you--I’ll take this to her,” Black agreed. His hat was off, as -if she had been a lady, this unkempt woman who regarded him curiously. -He was saying to himself that here was a place to which he must come -again, it was so near--and yet so very, very far. - -She would have stayed him to gossip about both Sadie and Sue, but he -would have none of that, turned the talk his own way, and presently got -away as adroitly as ever Red had done, leaving her looking after him -with an expression of mingled wonder and admiration. Somehow he had -given her the impression of his friendliness, and his democracy--and -yet of the difference between herself and him. There was, once, a Man, -beside a wayside well, who had given that same impression. - -Until late evening he was busy; calls--a manse wedding--a committee -meeting--an hour’s study--so the rest of the June day went. But just as -dusk was falling he tucked the newspaper parcel under his arm and went -down Jane Ray’s side street. He did not know at all if she could be -found at this hour, but he had an idea that Jane lived above her shop, -and that if she were at home a bell which he had seen beside the door -would bring her. - -The shop was softly lighted with many candles, though no one seemed -to be inside. When he tried the door, however, it was locked, and he -rang the bell. A minute later he saw Jane coming through the shop from -the back, and the suggestion of the hostess moving through attractive -apartments was more vivid than ever. The door opened. Black held out -his parcel. - -“I’m sorry to bother you at this hour, Miss Ray, but I believe it’s -something the little girl left behind, and I thought she might want it -to-night. I couldn’t get here earlier.” - -“Oh, thank you! Won’t you come in a minute and see Sue? I’d like you -to see how different--and how dear--she looks. She’s just back in the -garden.” Jane’s expression was eager--not at all businesslike. She -might have been a young mother offering to show her child. - -“Garden?” questioned Black, following Jane through the candle-lighted -shop. - -“Actually a garden. You wouldn’t think it, would you? But there is -one--a very tiny one--and it’s the joy of my life.” - -At the back of the shop she opened a door into one of the most inviting -little rooms Black ever had seen--or dreamed of. Not crowded with -antiques or curios--just a simple home room, furnished and hung with -the most exquisite taste--a very jewel of a room, and lighted with -a low lamp which threw into relief the dark polished surface of a -table upon which stood a long row of finely bound books. But he was -led quickly through this--though he wanted to linger and look about -him--through an outer door of glass which opened directly upon the -garden. _Well!_ - -“It’s not very much,” said Jane, “as gardens go--but I’m terribly proud -of it, just the same.” - -“It’s wonderful!” Black exclaimed. “What a spot--among all these old -brick buildings! Why--it looks like an English garden; every bit of -space used--and all those trim walks--and the seat under the trees. -Great!” And his eye dwelt delightedly on the box borders filled with -flowers, on the tall rows of blue delphiniums and hollyhocks against -the walls, on the one great elm tree at the back of it all beneath -which stood a rustic seat. - -“But here’s something better yet,” said Jane’s voice quietly, beside -him, and she brought him out upon the narrow, vine-hung porch which -ran all across the back of the house. Here, on a footstool beside a -big chair, sat Sue Dunstan, a little figure all in white, with hair in -shining fair order as if it had just been washed and brushed, and shy -eyes no longer red with tears. And Sue looked--yes, she looked as if -she had forgotten everything in the world--except to love Jane Ray! - -And then--she recognized the man who had stood at her sister’s feet -that morning and said strange words which had somehow comforted her. -A flood of colour rushed into her cheeks--she crouched upon the -footstool, not daring to look up again. Black sat down in the chair -beside her--he knew Jane had been sitting there before him. He said -Miss Ray had let him come out for just a minute to see the garden, and -wasn’t it a beautiful garden? He had known a garden something like that -once, he said, and never another since, and he wondered if he could -make one like it behind his house. Sue wasn’t sure--she shook her -head--she seemed to think no one but Miss Ray could make such a garden. - -Black didn’t stay long--he knew he wasn’t expected to. But he had made -friends with Sue before he went--poor child, who had no friends. And he -almost thought he had made friends with Jane Ray, too. Somehow he found -himself wanting to do that--he didn’t quite know why. Perhaps it was -because she was very evidently a friend of Red. Yes--he thought that -must be the reason why she interested him so much. - -As they came back through the shop Jane paused to snuff a flaming -candle with an old pair of brass snuffers--her face was full of colour -in the rosy light--and remarked, “I’m going to have an exhibition of -war posters some evening before long, Mr. Black--for the benefit of -French and Belgian orphans. Would you care to speak of it among your -friends? I think you saw some of the first posters I received. I have -more and very wonderful ones now--many of them quite rare already. I -want to attract the people with plenty of money--and some interest in -things over there.” - -“I’ll be delighted to mention it in church next Sunday,” Black offered -promptly. - -“Oh--really?” - -“Why not?” - -“_I_ don’t know why not. I supposed you would. Your church people--they -don’t like----” - -“Don’t they?--I’ll be all the more delighted to mention the war -posters, then. Thank you for giving me the chance. And for showing -me the garden--and Sue. She’s a lucky girl--and so are you, aren’t -you?--to have such a chance. You’ll make the most of it. Miss Ray, -I think Sue never heard of--Somebody she ought to know. She needs -Him--even more than she needs you. Teach her the story of Him--will -you? You don’t mind my saying it? You couldn’t mind--you care for her! -Good-night!” - -Jane Ray looked after the tall figure, striding swiftly away up the -side street through the June twilight. - -“You certainly aren’t afraid,” she thought, “to say exactly what you -think. I like you for that, anyhow.” - - - - -CHAPTER V - -PLAIN AS A PIKESTAFF - - -Robert Black was dressing for a dinner--a men’s dinner, to which Samuel -Lockhart had invited him, and Tom Lockhart had commanded him. - -“You see, I’ve got to be there,” Tom had explained. “And Dad always -asks a lot of ponderous old personages who bore you to death--or -else make you red with rage at some of their fossil ideas. The only -thing that saves the case for me to-night is that you’re coming. I’ve -stipulated that I sit near you--see? Mother wouldn’t hear of my being -next you--that honour is reserved for one of your trustees.” - -“I assure you I’m immensely flattered,” Black had replied, with a real -sense of warmth about the heart. He had grown steadily fonder of this -interesting boy who was all but a man. “But isn’t your good friend -Doctor Burns to be there? Surely he’d save anybody from boredom.” - -“There!” Tom’s tone was mocking. “Yes, he’ll be there--after he -comes--and before he goes. He’ll come in just in time for the salad--no -evening dress, just good old homespun, because he’s had no time to -change. Then he’ll be called out before the coffee and the smokes--but -he’ll ask for a cup, just the same, and swallow it standing. Then he’ll -go out--and all the lights’ll go out for me with him--except, that -you’re there to keep the brain fires burning.” - -Black had laughed at this dismal picture and had told the youngster -that he would endeavour to save his life in the crisis. But now, as he -dressed, he was not looking forward to the event. To tell the truth, -although he had been present at many college and fraternity banquets, -this was actually his first experience at a formal dinner in a private -home. He was even experiencing a few doubts as to how to dress. - -Good judgment, however, assured him that the one safe decision for -a clerical diner-out was clerical dress. Having satisfied himself -that every hair was in place, but having found one of his accessories -missing, he went in search of Mrs. Hodder. - -“I don’t seem to find a handkerchief in my drawer, Mrs. Hodder,” -he announced, standing in the doorway of the kitchen and glancing -suggestively toward a basketful of unironed clothes below the table at -which his housekeeper sat. - -“You don’t, Mr. Black?” Mrs. Hodder exclaimed. “Mercy me--I’ll iron -you one in a jiffy. If I may make so bold as to say so, sir, it’s not -my fault. You use handkerchiefs rather lavish for one who--who owns so -few.” - -“Haven’t I enough? I’ll get some more at once. Do I--do you mind -telling me if I look as if I were going out to dinner?” - -The housekeeper turned and surveyed him. Approval lighted her -previously sombre eye. “You look as if you were just going to get -married,” she observed. - -An explosion of unclerical-like laughter answered her. “But I’m dressed -no differently from the way I am on Sundays,” he reminded her. - -“You have your gown on in the pulpit. And the minute you come home -you’re out of that long coat and into the short one. I’ve never seen -you stay looking the way you do now five minutes, Mr. Black.” - -“That must be why I’m so unhappy now. I’ve got to stay in this coat for -an entire evening. Pity me, Mrs. Hodder! And don’t wait up, please. I -may be rather late.” - -He marched away, followed by the adoring gaze of his housekeeper. Mrs. -Hodder’s austerity of countenance belied her softness of heart. If the -minister had guessed how like a mother she felt toward him he might -have been both touched and alarmed. - -Arrived at the Lockharts’, he found himself welcomed first by Tom, who -met him, as if accidentally, at the very door. - -“The heavy-weights are all here,” announced the boy under his breath, -his arm linked in Black’s, as he led his friend upstairs. “Bald--half -of ’em are bald! And the rest look as solemn as if this were a funeral -instead of a dinner. Maybe they feel that way. I’m sure I do. I -say--don’t you wish we could jump into my car and burn it down the road -about fifty miles into the moonlight? There’s a gorgeous moon to-night.” - -“Ask me after the dinner is over, and I’ll go.” - -“What? Will you? You won’t--no such luck!” - -“Try me and see.” - -“You bet I will. See here--you promise? It’ll be late, I warn you. -Father’s dinners drag on till kingdom come.” - -“Any time before morning.” And Black looked into the laughing, -incredulous eyes of the youth before him. - -“You’re no minister,” Tom chuckled. “You’re a dead game sport.” Then he -drew back suddenly at the flash in the black eyes. - -“Don’t make a mistake about that,” suggested Black, quietly. - -“Oh--I guess you are a minister, all right,” admitted Tom, -respectfully. “And I guess perhaps I want you to be.” - -“I’m very sure you do.” Black smiled again. “Did you think I couldn’t -take a late spin in your car without compromising my profession?” - -“I just thought--for a minute,” whispered the boy, “I saw a bit of a -reckless devil look out of your eyes. I thought--you wanted to get -away, like me, from this heavy dinner business--and go to--just any old -place!” - -“Perhaps I do. But I don’t intend to think about moonlight drives till -I’ve done my part here. Come on, Tom--let’s be ‘dead game sports’ -and help make things go. Afterward--we’ll take the trail with good -consciences.” - -“Anything to please you. I was going to bolt whenever R. P. Burns got -called out; but I’ll wait for you.” - -“You seem to be sure he’ll be called out. Perhaps he won’t, for once.” - -“Not a chance. Wait and see,” prophesied Tom; and together they -descended the stairs. - -Tom stood off at one side, after that, with the apparent deference -of youth. His eyes were sharp with interest in Black, whose presence -relieved for him the tedium of the affair. He saw the minister -shaking hands, making acquaintances, joining groups, with a certain -straightforwardness of manner which pleased the critical youth -immensely. Like most young men, he despised what is easily recognized -in any company as that peculiar clerical atmosphere which surrounds -so many men of Black’s profession. He didn’t want a minister to bow -a little lower, hold the proffered hand a little longer, speak in a -little more unctuous tone than other men. He wanted his minister to -hold his head high, to make no attempts to ingratiate himself into -his companions’ good graces by saying things too patently calculated -to please them; he didn’t want him to agree with everybody--he wanted -him to differ with them healthily often. As he watched Black’s way -of looking a new acquaintance straight in the eye, as if to discover -what manner of man he was, and then of letting the other man take the -lead in conversation instead of instantly and skillfully assuming the -lead, as if he considered himself a born dictator of the thoughts -and words of others--well--Tom said to himself once more that he was -jolly glad Robert McPherson Black had come to this parish. Since it -always devolved upon the Lockhart family to show first friendliness to -new incumbents of that parish, it mattered much to Tom that he could -heartily like this man. He was even beginning to think of him as his -friend--his special friend. And as, from time to time, his eyes met -Black’s across the room, he had a warm consciousness that Black had not -forgotten but was looking forward to the hour that should release them -both for that fast drive down the empty, moonlit road. Reward enough -for a dull evening, that would be, to take the black-eyed Scotsman for -such a whirl across country as he probably had never known! - -But first--the dinner! And Red hadn’t come--of course he hadn’t--when -the party moved out to the dining-room and took their places at the -big table with its impressive centrepiece of lights and flowers, its -rather gorgeous layout of silver and glass, and its waiting attendants. -Red hadn’t arrived when the soup and fish had come and gone; when the -roast fowl was served; it wasn’t till Tom had begun to give him up that -the big doctor suddenly put his red head in at the door and stood -there looking silently in upon the company. Tom sprang up joyfully, and -rushed across the room. Red came forward, shook hands with his host, -and took his place--opposite Black, as it happened. - -And instantly--to two people at least--the room was another place. -It’s Stevenson, isn’t it?--who mentions that phenomenon we have all so -many times observed--that the entrance of some certain person into a -room makes it seem “as if another candle had been lighted!” Wonderful -phrase that--and blessed people of whom it can be said! Of such people, -certainly R. P. Burns, M.D., was a remarkable type. Nobody like him for -turning on not only one but fifty candlepower. - -Yet all he did was to sit down--in his customary gray suit, quite as -Tom had said he would, having had no time to change--grin round the -table, and say, “Going to feed me up from the beginning, Lockhart? -Oh, never mind. A good plateful of whatever fowl you’ve had, and a -cup of coffee will suit me down to the ground. Coffee not served yet, -Parker?” He turned to the manservant at his elbow. “But you see”--with -an appealing glance at his host--“I’ve had no lunch to-day--and it’s -nearly ten. I’m just about ready for that coffee.” Then he surveyed -again the hitherto serious gentlemen about him, who were now looking -suddenly genial, and remarked, “You fellows don’t know what it is to be -hungry. No one here but me has done an honest day’s work.” - -“Do you mind telling us what time yours began, Doctor Burns?” asked -Black, across the table. - -The hazel eyes encountered the black ones for the second time. Black -had been the first man Red looked at as he sat down--his greeting grin -had therefore started with Black. - -“Twelve-five A. M. No thanks to me. I gave the fellow blue blazes for -calling me, but he was one of those persistent chaps, and rang me up -every ten minutes till I gave in and went.... Excuse the shop.... What -were you all talking about? Keep it up, please, while I employ myself.” - -Somebody told him they had been talking about the Great War in -Europe--and received a quick, rather cynical glance from the hazel -eyes. Somebody else observed that it was to be hoped we’d keep our -heads and not get into it--and had a fiery glance shot at him, -decidedly disdainful. Then a third man said sadly that he had a son who -was giving him trouble, wanting to go and enlist with the Canadians, -and he wished he knew how to talk sense into the boy. - -“Better thank the Lord you’ve bred such a lad!” ejaculated Red, between -two gulps of coffee. - -“Of course I am proud of his spirit,” admitted the unhappy father. “But -there’s no possible reason why he should do such a wild thing. His -mother is nearly out of her mind with fear that if we keep on opposing -him he’ll run away.” - -“If he does, you’ll wish you had sent him willingly, won’t you?” -suggested Black. “Why not let him go?” - -William Jennings, treasurer of Black’s church, turned on his minister -an astonished eye. “You don’t mean to say _you_ say that?” - -“Why not? I have three young nephews over there, in the Scottish ranks. -They need all the help they can have from us. If we don’t get in as a -country pretty soon now--more than your boy will run away. Look at the -fellows who’ve already gone from our colleges, and more going all the -time.” - -“Mr. Black,”--a solemn voice spoke from down the table--“I’ve been -given to understand you are in sympathy with war. I can hardly believe -it.” - -Black looked at the speaker, and his eyes sparkled with a sudden fire. -“That’s rather a strange way of putting it,” he said. “Perhaps you -might rather say I am in sympathy with those who have had war thrust -upon them. What else is there to do but to make war back--to end it?” - -“There are other ways--there must be. A great Christian nation must use -those ways--not throw itself blindly into the horrible carnage. Our -part is to teach the world the lesson of peace as Christ did.” - -“How did He teach it?” The question came back, like a shot. - -The man who had spoken delayed a little, finding it difficult to -formulate his answer. “Why, by His life, His example, His precepts--” -he said. “He was the Man of Peace--He told us to turn the other -cheek----” - -Red’s keen eyes were on Black now. He had opened his own lips, in his -own impulsive way--and had closed them as quickly. “What’s in you?” his -eyes said to Black. “Have you got it in you to down this fool? Or must -I?” And he forgot how hungry he was. - -When Black spoke, every other eye was on him as well. He spoke quietly -enough, yet his words rang with conviction. “My Christ,” he said, “if -He were on earth now, and the enemy were threatening Mary, His mother, -or the other Mary, or the little children He had called to Him, would -seize the sword in His own hand, to defend them.” - -Red sat back. Over his face swept a flame of relief. Tom breathed -quickly. Samuel Lockhart glanced about him, and saw on some faces -startled approval and on others astonishment and anger. - -Then the talk raged--of course. This was in those days, already -difficult to recall, when men differed about the part America should -take in the conflict; when dread of involvement called forth strange -arguments, unsound logic; when personal fear for their sons made -fathers stultify themselves by advocating a course which should keep -the boys out of danger. Several of the guests at Mr. Lockhart’s table -were fathers of sons in college--substantial business or professional -men alive with fear that the war sentiment flaming at the great -centres of education would catch the tow and tinder of the young men’s -imagination, and that before long, whether America should declare -war or not, instead of isolated enlistments the whole flower of the -country’s youth would be off for the scene of the great disaster. - -Suddenly Red brought his fist down on the table. - -“You’re afraid,” he cried, “of the personal issue, you fellows! Forget -that you have sons--let the sons forget that they have fathers. What’s -America’s plain duty? Good God--it’s as plain as a pikestaff! She’s got -to get in--to keep her own self-respect.” - -“And to save her own soul,” added Black; and again the eyes of the two -men met across the table. - -It was at this instant that Tom Lockhart took fire. Up to these last -words of Red and Black he had been merely intensely interested and -excited; now, suddenly, he was aglow with eagerness to show where he -stood, he of the class who in all wars are first to offer themselves. -Almost before he knew it he had spoken, breaking the silence which had -succeeded upon Black’s grave words. - -“I’m ready to go,” he said, and a great flush spread over his fair -young face to the roots of his thick, sandy hair. - -Then, indeed, the table was in an uproar--a subdued uproar, to be -sure, but none the less throbbing with contrary opinion. As for Samuel -Lockhart himself, he could only stare incredulously at his boy, but -the other men, with the exception of the doctor and the minister, were -instantly upon Tom with hurried words of disapproval. William Jennings, -who sat next him, turned and laid a remonstrating hand on Tom’s arm. - -“My boy,” he said, fiercely--it was he whose son was likely to enlist -with Canada--“you don’t know what you’re talking about. For Heaven’s -sake, don’t lose your head like my George! There isn’t any call for you -youngsters to take this thing seriously--leave it to the ones who are -of military age, at least. They’ve got enough men over there, anyway, -to see this war through; if we send money and munitions, the way we are -doing, that’s our part, and a big part it is, too.” - -Well, Tom found himself wishing in a way that he hadn’t spoken up, -since it had brought all the heavy-weights down on his undeniably -boyish self. And yet, somehow, when he had glanced just once at Red -and Black, he couldn’t be entirely sorry. Both had given him a look -which he would have done much to earn, and neither had said a word of -remonstrance. - -Yet, after the dinner, his impression that they were both eager to have -him carry his expression of willingness into that of a fixed purpose, -suffered an unexpected change. As they rose from the table, at a late -hour, Red--who had not been called out yet after all--slipped his arm -through Tom’s, and spoke in his ear. - -“I’m proud of you, lad,” he said, “but I want you to think this -thing through to the end. Duty sometimes takes one form and sometimes -another. I’ve been watching your father, and--you see--you dealt him -a pretty heavy blow to-night, and he hasn’t been quite the same man -since. Go slow--that’s only fair to him. You’re not twenty-one yet, are -you?” - -“Pretty near. Next January.” - -“Keep cool till then. We may be in it as a country by then--I hope so. -If we are--perhaps you and I----” - -Tom thrilled. “Will you go, Doctor?” - -“You bet I will! I’d have been off long ago if---- But I can’t tell you -the reason just now. Some day, perhaps. Meanwhile----” - -He looked at Tom, and Tom looked at him. Then, both of them, for some -unexplainable reason, turned and looked toward Black, whose eyes were -following them. - -“Do you suppose he’ll go if we do declare war?” whispered Tom. - -A queer expression crossed Red’s face. “They mostly don’t--his class,” -he said, rather contemptuously. - -“Do you think--” Tom hesitated--“he’s--just like his class?” - -“Not--just like those I’ve known,” admitted Red, grudgingly. “That -is--on the surface. Can’t tell how deep the difference goes, yet.” - -“I _like_ him!” avowed Tom, honestly. - -Red laughed. “Good for you!” he commented. “I’m--trying rather hard not -to like him.” - -Tom stared. “Oh--why not?” he questioned, eagerly. - -But he didn’t hear the explanation of this extraordinary statement, for -one of the older men came up and hauled him away by the arm, and he -had a bad time of it, mostly, for the rest of the evening. He was only -restrained from making a bolt and getting away from the house by the -remembrance of Black’s promise. - -The time came, however, when for a moment he feared it was all up with -that moonlight spin. He had just slipped out upon the porch and assured -himself that the night was continuing to be the finest ever, when he -heard Red inside taking leave. He hurried back, and discovered that the -other men were evidently about to take the cue and go also. He came -around to Black’s elbow in time to hear Red address the minister. - -“Happen to be in the mood for a run of a few miles in my car?” Red -invited, in his careless way which left a man free to accept or refuse -as he chose. “I have to see a patient yet to-night. It was a pretty -fine night when I came in.” - -Tom couldn’t know--how could he?--what, in the circumstances, it cost -Black to reply as he promptly did: - -“Thank you--I’d like nothing better--except what I’m going to have: the -same thing with Tom Lockhart.” - -Now Tom was a gentleman, and he hastened to release Black from his -promise, though his face plainly showed his disappointment. - -“Please go with the Doctor, if you like, Mr. Black. His car can put it -all over mine--and he doesn’t ask anybody very often--as I happen to -know.” - -Black smiled. “I’m engaged to you, Tom,” he said, “and I’m going with -you, if you’ll take me. Mighty sorry I can’t be in two places at the -same time, Doctor Burns.” - -“All right,” answered Red--and wouldn’t have admitted for a farm that -he was disappointed. “As for Tom’s car--it’s a whale,” he added, “and -can show my old Faithful the dust any time. Good-night, then!” - -Whichever was the better car, certain it was that Black, in Tom’s, had -his first sensation of tremendous speed during the hour which followed. -The boy was excited by the events of the evening, he was a skillful -and daring driver, and he was conscious of being able to give an older -man a perfectly new experience. Black had frankly told him that he had -never before taken a night drive in a powerful roadster, with the speed -limit whatever the driver chose to make it. Under this stimulus Tom -chose to make it pretty nearly the extreme of his expensive motor’s -power. The result was that very soon the minister’s hat was in his -hand, and his close-cut black hair taking the stiff breeze, like Tom’s, -as the car gathered herself afresh to fly down each new stretch of -clear road. - -“Like it?” shouted Tom, suddenly, as he slowed down for a sharp curve. - -“It’s great!” - -“Don’t mind how fast we go?” - -“Not while I trust you--as I do.” - -“You do trust me, eh?” The boy’s voice was exultant. - -“To the limit.” - -“Why do you?” - -“Because you know my life is in your hands. You wouldn’t risk cutting -it short.” - -The motor slackened perceptibly. “There’s not the least danger of that.” - -“Of course not--with your hands on the wheel. Go ahead--don’t slow -down. You haven’t shown me yet quite what the car can do, have you?” - -“Well--not quite. Pretty near, though. I knew you were a good sport. -Lots of older men get nervous when we hit--what we were hitting. Not -even R. P. B. drives in quite that notch--and he’s no coward. He says -it’s all right, if you don’t happen to throw a tire. I never expect to -throw one--not at that pace. Never have. Maybe I better not take any -chances with the minister in, though.” - -“Take any that you’d take for yourself,” commanded Black. Tom, -diminishing his pace of necessity for a one-way bridge, glanced quickly -round at his companion, to see what Black’s face might reveal that his -cool speech did not. He saw no trace of fear in the clean-cut profile -outlined against the almost daylight of the vivid night; instead he saw -a man seemingly at ease under conditions which usually, Tom reflected, -rather strung most fellows up, old or young. - -Suddenly Tom spoke his mind: “You _are_ a good sport,” he said, in his -ardent young way. “They mostly aren’t, though, in your business, are -they?--honestly now? _You_ would go to war, though, wouldn’t you?” - -Then he saw a change of expression indeed. Black’s lips tightened, his -chin seemed to protrude more than usual--and, as we have stated before, -it was a frankly aggressive chin at any time. Black’s head came round, -and his eyes seemed to look straight through Tom’s into his cynical -young thoughts. - -“Tom,” he said--waited a bit, and then went on, slowly and with -peculiar emphasis--“there’s just one thing I can never take peaceably -from any man--and I don’t think I have to take it. I have the honour -to belong to a profession which includes thousands of the finest men -in the world--just as your friend Doctor Burns’ profession includes -thousands of fine men. You--and others--never think of hitting at the -profession of medicine and surgery just because you may happen to know -a man here and there who isn’t a particularly worthy member of it. -There are quacks and charlatans in medicine--but the profession isn’t -judged by them. Is it quite fair to judge the ministry by some man you -have known who didn’t seem to measure up?” - -“Why--no, of course not,” admitted Tom. “It’s just that--I -suppose--well--I don’t think there are so many of ’em who--who----” - -“Want to drive seventy miles an hour--at midnight?” - -Tom laughed boyishly. “I don’t expect that, of course. But I don’t like -long prayers, to tell the truth; and most of the sermons find fault -with folks because they don’t happen to come up to the preacher’s mark, -and I get fed up on ’em.” - -“Do you like Doctor Burns’ medicine? He set your leg once, you told me. -Did you like that--especially?” - -“Oh, well--if you want to call sermons medicine----” began Tom, slyly. - -“That’s exactly what many of them are--or should be--and pretty bitter -medicine, too, at that, sometimes. Shouldn’t a man have your respect -who dares to risk your dislike by giving you the medicine he thinks you -need? Is the man who ventures to stand up and tell you the plain truth -about yourself, whether you like it or not, exactly a coward?” - -“You’re certainly no coward,” said Tom, with emphasis. - -“Did you ever happen to know a minister who you thought was a coward?” - -“Not exactly. But--if you want the truth--I don’t think, if this -country should get into war, you’d see an awful lot of preachers going -into it. Why--they don’t believe in it. They----” - -“Wait and see. We shall get into it--sooner or later--I hope sooner. -And when we do--I don’t think the regiments will be lacking chaplains.” - -“Oh!--chaplains!” - -“You think that’s a soft job, do you? Do you happen to have been -reading much about the English and French chaplains over there, since -the war began? And the priests?” - -“Can’t say I have,” admitted Tom. - -“The only difference that I can find,” said Black, in a peculiar -quiet tone which when he knew him better Tom discovered to mean -deadly earnestness--with a bite in it--“between a chaplain’s job and -a fighting man’s, is that the right sort of chaplain goes unarmed -where the soldier goes armed--and takes about as many chances, first -and last. And when it comes to bracing the men’s courage before the -fight--and after--well, I think I covet the chaplain’s chance even more -than I do the captain’s.” - -They drove in silence after that for exactly three and three quarter -miles, which, at Tom’s now modified pace, took about five minutes. Then -Black said: - -“I didn’t answer the other part of your question, did I, Tom?” - -“About whether you’d go to war?” Tom turned, with a satisfied smile on -his lips. “I’ve been thinking about that. But I guess you answered it, -all right.” - -At one o’clock in the morning Tom set Black down before the manse. For -the last half-hour they had had a jolly talk which had ranged from -guns to girls--and back again to guns. Black seemed to know more about -the guns than the girls, though he had listened with interest to Tom’s -remarks upon both subjects, and had contributed an anecdote or two -which had made Tom shout with glee. When Black stood upon the sidewalk, -a tall, straight figure in the moonlight, he held out his hand, which -Tom gripped eagerly. - -“Thank you for the best hour I’ve had in a month. That blew all the fog -out of my brain, and put a wonderful new idea into my head.” - -“Mind telling me what it is?” Tom asked. - -“If you’ll keep it quiet till I have it under way. Do you think we -can get a group of fellows, friends of yours and others, to come to -my house once a week--say on Monday evenings--to talk over this war -situation--study it up--discuss it freely--and plan what we can do -about it, over here--before we get over there?” - -“Do I think so?” Tom’s tone spoke his pleasure as well as the chuckling -laugh he gave. “Do I think so? Why, the fellows will be crazy to -come--after I tell ’em about this drive and chin of ours. When they -know you burned the road with me at such a clip and never turned a -hair, they’ll fall over one another to get to your house.” - -He enjoyed to the full the laugh he got back from Black at that--a -deep-keyed, whole-souled, delightful laugh, which told of the richness -of the man’s nature. Then-- - -“I’d drive at a hundred, hours on end,” declared Black, “to have you -fall in with my schemes like that. Good-night, Tom, and we’ll organize -that club to-morrow.” - -“To-day, you mean.” Tom reluctantly gave his motor the signal. - -“To-day. At eight o’clock to-night. Be on hand early, will you, Tom--to -help me make things go from the start?” - -“I’ll be sitting on your doorstep at seven thirty.” - -“Good. I’ll open the door at seven twenty-nine. Good-night, Tom.” - -“Good-night, Mr. Black.” - -But so slowly did Tom drive away that he was not out of sight of the -manse when the door closed on his friend the minister. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -HIGH LIGHTS - - -“There!” said Jane Ray, turning on one last golden electric bulb -cunningly concealed. “I’ve used every device I know to make the showing -tell. _Is_ it effective? _Does_ it all count, Mrs. Burns? I’ve studied -it so much I don’t know any more.” - -Mrs. Redfield Pepper Burns stood beside Miss Ray at one end of the long -shop--a shop no longer--and looked down it silently for a full minute -before she spoke. Then: - -“It’s very wonderful,” she said, in her low, pleasant voice. “I -shouldn’t have dreamed that even you could do it. It _is_ effective--it -_does_ count. The appeal, even at the first glance, is--astonishing.” - -“The question is--where has the shop gone?” - -This was Miss Lockhart, who was on Mrs. Burns’ other side. All three -were in semi-evening dress of a quiet sort; and the evening hour was -just before that set for the showing of the posters. Jane Ray had -decided against making a public thing of her exhibition; she had argued -that that would mean a large crowd and little money. A more exclusive -affair, with invitations discreetly extended, ought to fill just -comfortably her limited space, and bring the dollars she coveted for -her Belgians. - -“It isn’t a shop now--it’s a salon,” declared Mrs. Burns. Jane -glowed at this--as well she might. Mrs. Burns, with her wealth, her -experience of the world, her personality of exceeding charm, knew -whereof she spoke. Jane knew well that she could not have found a -patroness of her exhibition whose influence could help her more than -that of the wife of Red Pepper Burns. - -“Yes, that’s the word,” Nan agreed. “Miss Ray has done wonders. The -shop has always been a perfectly charming place--as a shop; but -to-night it’s a colourful spot to solicit not only the eye but the -heart. The pocket-books and purses will fly open--I’m sure of it. And -with Doctor Burns to tell us what we _must_ do---- Oh, no doubt but -every poster will be sold to-night.” - -“I’m not so sure,” Jane said. “They might be, if the prices bid run -low. But I don’t want small prices--I want big ones--oh, very big! If -people will only understand--and care.” - -The shop door opened, and R. P. Burns and Tom Lockhart came in -together, both in evening dress. Tom’s face was exultant. - -“I got him!” he called. “I put out the office lights, chloroformed the -office nurse, hauled him upstairs, drew his bath, and put his clothes -upon him--and for a finishing touch, to make all tight, disconnected -the telephone. First occasion ever known where he was present at any -party before the guests arrived--not to mention being properly dressed!” - -Red was laughing. He loomed above the group, every shining red hair in -place, his eyes sparkling with eagerness for the fray. Not in a long -time had he had a part to play, outside his profession, which suited -him so well. Himself war mad from the beginning, impatient a thousand -times over at the apathy of his fellow-citizens under the constantly -growing needs and demands of the world struggle, he was welcoming the -chance to try his hand and voice at warming the cold hearts, firing -the imaginations, and reaching the pocket-books thus far mostly shoved -deep down in the prosperous pockets. To be here to-night he had worked -like a fiend all day to cover his lists of calls, to tie up every -possible foreseen demand. At the last moment he had cut half a dozen -strings which threatened to bind him, instructed his office to take -no calls for him for the coming three hours, and had fled away with -Tom, determined for once to do his duty as he saw it, and not as any -persistent patient might see it. - -“Jolly, but this is a stunning show!” he commented, gazing round him. -“What lighting! Why, you must have run wires everywhere, Jane! That -fellow in blue on the horse, at the far end, looks as if he were -galloping straight out at us. You must have been on a hanging committee -at some art gallery some time or other.” - -“Never. And Mr. Black is responsible for the first inspiration about -the lighting. He has taken such an interest. Did you know he got -all these Raemakers cartoons down at the end for me? They just came -to-day--he had to wire and wire to have them here in time. They’re so -splendid--and so terrible--I’ve put them all by themselves.” - -Red strode down the room. Nobody joined him while he stared with -intense concentration at the merciless arraignment of a merciless foe -which was in each Raemakers stroke. He came back with a fresh fire in -his eye. - -“What can I say that will sell those? People will turn away in holy -horror, and say the Dutchman lies. He hasn’t told half the truth--it -can’t be told. I want that one last on the line myself. I can’t hang -it, but I can put it away--and get it out, now and then, when my pity -slackens. Oh, lord--how long! Two years and more those people have been -bleeding, and still we stand on the outside and look on, like gamins -at a curbstone fight! Shame on us!” And Red ran his hand through his -thick, coppery locks again and again, till they stood on end above his -frowning brows. - -“Hush, dear! Here come the first people--and you are one of the -receiving hosts. You mustn’t look so savage. Smooth down your hair--and -smile again!” His wife spoke warningly. - -“All right--I’ll try. Where’s the minister? I thought he was going to -stand by to-night? He has a better grip on his feelings than I have. He -keeps his hair where it belongs. I’m too Irish for that.” - -“I’m here.” And Black came up to shake hands, ahead of the guests who -were alighting from a big car outside. “I was after just one more -poster--and got it out of the express office at the last minute. No, -I’m not going to show it yet. I think it comes later.” - -“Now we’re all six here--I’m so glad,” whispered Nan Lockhart. “Do -you know, somehow, I was never so proud in my life of being one of a -receiving group. Nothing ever seemed so worth while. Mr. Black, it’s -fine of you to give so much time to this.” - -“Fine! It’s just an escape valve for me, Miss Lockhart. Besides, what -could be better worth doing than this, just now?” - -“Nothing that I can think of. But it took Jane Ray to conceive it. -Isn’t she looking beautifully distinguished to-night, in that perfectly -ripping smoke-blue gown, and her hair so shiningly smooth and close?” - -“Ripping?” repeated Black, his eyes following Miss Ray as she -went forward to welcome her first guests. “It’s very plain--and -unobtrusive. I shouldn’t have noticed it. She does look distinguished, -as you say, but it isn’t the dress, is it?” - -Nan laughed. “How that would please her! The dress is plain and -unobtrusive--and absolutely perfect in every line! It makes what I’m -wearing look so fussy I want to go home and change it! Jane has a -genius for knowing how to look like a picture. I suppose that’s the -artist in her. Do you know, I think the people who are asked here -to-night feel particularly flattered by an invitation from Jane? Isn’t -that quite an achievement--for a shopkeeper?” - -“That word doesn’t seem to apply to her, somehow,” said Black, and -changed the subject rather abruptly. Two minutes later he had left Miss -Lockhart, to greet one of his elderly parishioners, a rich widow who -bore down upon him in full sail. Nan Lockhart looked after him with an -amused expression about her well-cut mouth. - -“You didn’t like my calling her a shopkeeper. And you don’t intend to -discuss any girl with me or anybody else, do you, Mr. Black?” she said -to herself. “All right--be discreet, like the saint you are supposed -to be--and really are, for the most part, I think. But you’re pretty -human, too. And Fanny Fitch _is_ wearing a frock and hat to-night that -I think even you will be forced to notice.” - -It was not long before she had an opportunity to test the truth of this -prediction. The room filled rapidly, the narrow street outside becoming -choked with cars. Among the early comers were Mr. and Mrs. Samuel -Lockhart and Miss Fitch. As Fanny appeared in the ever lengthening line -of arrivals, Nan found herself waiting with interest for the moment -when she should reach Jane Ray and Robert Black, who, as it chanced -just then, stood near each other. - -No doubt but Miss Fitch was a charmer. Even Nan was forced to admit -that she had never seen Fanny more radiant. As she glanced from Fanny -to Jane and back again the comparison which occurred to her was that -between a gray-blue pigeon and a bird of Paradise! And yet--there was -nothing dull about Jane--and nothing flaunting about Fanny. It was -not a matter of clothes and colour after all, it was an affair of -personality. Jane was beautifully distinguished in appearance--Nan -had chosen the right words to describe her--and Fanny was exquisitely -lovely to look at. And there you were--simply nowhere in estimating -the two, unless you had something more to go by than looks. Nan, with -intimate knowledge of Fanny Fitch and an acquaintance with Jane Ray -which offered one of the most interesting attractions she had ever felt -toward a member of her own sex, found herself wondering how any man -who should chance on this evening to meet them both for the first time -might succeed in characterizing them, afterward, for the benefit, say, -of an invalid mother! - -It was great fun, and as good as a play, she reflected, to see Jane -and Fanny meet. If there was the slightest touch of condescension in -Fanny’s manner as she approached her hostess, it had no choice but to -disappear before Jane’s adorable poise. Nobody could condescend to -Jane. It wasn’t that she didn’t permit it--it simply couldn’t exist -in the presence of that straightforward young individuality of hers. -From the top of her satiny smooth, high-held, dark head, to the toe -of the smart little slipper which matched the blue of her gown, she -was quietly sure of herself. And beside her some of the town’s most -aristocratic matrons and maids looked decidedly less the aristocrat -than Jane! - -Around the edges of the room moved the guests, in low-voiced smiling -orderliness, scanning the posters, large and small, so cunningly -displayed, with every art of concealed lighting to show them off. The -appeal of some was only in the flaming patriotism of the vigorous lines -and brilliant colouring; in others all the cunning of the painter’s -brush had wrought to produce a restrained yet thrilling effect hardly -second to that of a finished picture. The subjects were taken from -everywhere; from the trenches, from No Man’s Land, from civilian homes, -from the cellars of the outcasts and exiles. And as the people whom -Jane had invited to this strange exhibit moved on and on, past one -heart-stirring sketch to another, the smiles on many lips died out, -and now and then one saw more than a hint of rising tears quickly -suppressed. Those who could look at that showing, unmoved, were few. - -And yet, presently when Burns was upon his platform, offering his first -poster for sale, though it went quickly, it was at no high price. -Following this, he took the least appealing; and so on, in due course, -and the bids still ran low. Little by little, however, he forced them -up--considerably more by the tell-tale expression upon his face, when -he was dissatisfied with a bid, than by what he said. As an auctioneer, -Red had begun his effort a little disappointingly to those who expected -his words, backed by his personality, to do great things from the -start. The explanation he gave to Jane Ray, in a minute’s interval, was -undoubtedly the true one. - -“If they were all men, I could bully them into it. Somehow, these -well-dressed women stifle me. I’m not used to facing them, except -professionally. What’s the matter? Shall I let go and fire straight, at -any risk of offending? They ought to be offering five times as much, -you know. They simply aren’t taking this thing seriously, and I don’t -know how to make them.” - -“If you can’t make them, I don’t know who could. Yes, speak -plainly--why not? We ought not to be getting tens and twenties for such -posters as those last three--each one should have brought a hundred at -least. Try this one next, please.” - -Burns stood straight again. He held up the sheet Jane offered him. It -was a bit of wonderful colouring, showing a group of French peasants -staring up at an airplane high overhead--the first British flier on -his way to the Front. The awe, the faith in those watching eyes, was -touching. - -“Give me a hundred for this, won’t you?” he called. “Start the bid -at that, and then send it flying. Never mind whether you want the -poster or not. Some day it will be valuable--if not in money, then in -sentiment. Now, then, who speaks?” - -Nobody spoke. Then: “Oh, come, Doctor,” said one rotund gentleman, -laughing, “you can’t rob us that way. The thing’s a cheap, -machine-coloured print--interesting, certainly, but no more. I’ll give -you ten for it--that’s enough. There’s just one poster in the whole -show that’s worth a hundred dollars--and that’s the man on the horse. -When you offer that I’ll be prepared to see you.” - -“The man on the horse goes for not a cent under five hundred,” declared -Burns, fiercely. “Starts at that--and ends at seven--eight--nine--a -thousand! Meanwhile----” - -But he couldn’t do it. It was a polite, suburban company, no great -wealth in it, just comfortably prosperous people, not particularly -patriotic as yet. The time was to come when they would see things -differently, but at that period of the Great War they were mostly cold -to the needs of the sufferers three thousand miles away. They saw no -reason why Jane Ray should invite them to an exclusive showing of her -really quite entertaining collection, and then expect them to open -their pocket-books into her lap. Each one intended to buy one poster, -of course, out of courtesy to Jane, but--the lower priced the better. -And all the lower-priced ones were sold. The bidding went slack, all -but died. Burns took out his big white handkerchief and wiped his brow, -smiling ruefully down at Jane, who nodded encouragingly back. But even -that encouraging nod couldn’t tell Red how to do it. - -Before this distressing stage in the proceedings had been reached, -Black, with a lightning-like working of the mind, had been making plans -of his own in case they should be needed. He had stood beside Nan -Lockhart, at the back of the room, his arms folded, his eyes watching -closely the scene before him. He did not look at all, as he stood -there, like a man who could take an auctioneer’s place and “get away -with it,” as the modern expressive phrase goes. In his clerical dress, -his dark hair very smooth above his clear brow, his eyes intent, his -lips unconsciously pressed rather firmly together under the influence -of his anxiety for Burns’ success in the difficult task, Black’s -appearance suggested rather that of a restrained onlooker at a race who -watches a favourite jockey, than that of one who longs to leap into the -saddle and dash round the course himself, to win the race. But this was -precisely what he was aching to do. - -Deeply as he admired the clever surgeon, much as he hoped for the -friendship of the highly intelligent man, he was not long in finding -out that Red had not been built for a persuader in public places. If -the red-headed doctor had been confronted with a desperate case of -emergency surgery, he could have flung off his coat, rolled up his -sleeves, commandeered an amateur nurse for an assistant, and achieved a -victory as brilliant as it was spectacular. Doubtless, Black reflected, -if it had been a matter of partisan politics, and an enemy to the good -of the state had met Red in open debate, the doctor could have downed -him in three rounds by sheer force of clean-cut argument and an arm -thrown high in convincing gesture. But--given a roomful of well-to-do -people, not overmuch interested in Belgian orphans, and a man trying to -sell them something they didn’t want for more than they had any idea of -paying for it--well--Red simply couldn’t do it, that was all. And Miss -Ray, in picking him out for the job on account of his popularity and -his well-known fearlessness in telling people what they must do--Miss -Ray had simply missed it, that was all. It was an error in judgment, -and nobody was seeing that more clearly than Jane herself, as Black -discovered by each glance at her. - -She was standing at Red’s elbow, handing him up posters one by one, and -giving the buyer a charming glance of gratitude for each purchase as -she moved forward to hand the poster spoken for. But her usually warm -colour had receded a little, her lips, between the smiles, seemed a -trifle set, and a peculiar sense of her disappointment reached across -the room and impressed itself upon Black as definitely as if she -had signalled to him. Just once he caught her eyes, as if in search -of his, and he found himself giving her back a look of sympathy and -understanding. He was longing to come to her aid. Would it be possible, -in any way, to do that? He was accustomed to facing people, in the -mass, as Red was not, and accustomed to handling them, to reading from -their faces what would influence them; in plain words, to being master -of them, and leading them whither they would not voluntarily go. Would -the moment conceivably come when he could step into the breach and, -without offending Red or seeming presumptuous, take his place? - -At least he could be prepared. And as his mind worked, led by Red’s -very mistakes into seeing what might offset them, a suggestion suddenly -shaped itself. Instantly he acted upon it. He beckoned Tom Lockhart, -took him quietly aside into the half-lighted rear shop where the big -antique pieces removed from the larger room to make space crowded one -another unmercifully, and spoke under his breath: - -“Tom, you have more nerve than any fellow I know. Around the corner, on -Seventh Street, at the Du Bois’s, there’s a Belgian baby--came to-day. -Please go and ask them for it, will you?--and hurry back. Tell them to -pick it out of the cradle just as it is, wrap a shawl around it, and -let you bring it here. They’re French--they’ll understand--I was there -to-day. Quick!” - -With a smothered whoop Tom was off, and Black returned to the larger -room, remaining, however, near the door of the back shop. Ten minutes -later an eager whisper through a crack of that door summoned him and he -slipped out to find Tom gingerly holding a bundle from one end of which -protruded a dark little head. - -“Here he is--poor little cuss! He’s about the most whipped looking -specimen I ever saw. Think he’ll sell a poster? He’s sold one -already--blamed if he hasn’t--at the best price Tommy Boy can afford.” - -“Keep him quiet here for a bit, can you, Tom? I’ll come for him when I -think his chance is ripe. Will he keep still?” - -“Too used to shifting for himself not to keep still, I guess.” Tom -gazed pityingly into the thin little face with its big eyes regarding -him steadily in the dim light of the outer room. “All right, I’ll keep -him quiet. But don’t hold off the crisis too long. R. P.’s about at the -end of his wind. First time in my life I ever saw Doctor in a corner, -but he’s sure in one now.” - -“He’s done nobly; we just aren’t educated up to the idea yet, that’s -all. Baby may not help out, but we’ll try.” - -Black went back. Red turned and gave him a look as he came in which -said, “I wish I were about a million miles away from here. How in -thunder do you do it?” As if the thought were father to the demand he -suddenly beckoned and spoke: - -“Mr. Black, suppose you come up here and tell us about these last--and -best--posters. My oratory has run out. I know you have one poster of -your own you haven’t shown--isn’t it time for that now?” - -Black smiled up at him--a friendly smile which answered: “I’d like -nothing better than to help you out, old fellow!” But aloud he said: -“Rather a telling one has just been brought in by Mr. Thomas Lockhart. -With your permission I’ll be glad to show it to everybody.” - -And with that he was out of the room and back again, and the baby--out -of its wrappings, its thin, tiny frame, pinched face and claw-like -hands showing with a dumb eloquence--was held cosily in the tall -minister’s left arm, and his right hand was gently smoothing back -the curly black locks from the wistful little brow. He took one step -upon the platform Red was about to vacate, and looked down into the -upturned faces. “Don’t go yet, please, Doctor,” he requested, in the -other’s ear. Reluctantly Burns waited, scanning the baby. - -“There isn’t anything I can say, ladies and gentlemen,” Black began, -very quietly, and looking back into the small face as he went on. -“It’s all said by this little chap. He’s just been brought over to -this country, with scores more, by the Committee for Belgian Relief. A -kind-hearted French family near by have offered to care for him until a -home can be found. The father of this family was at the pier when the -ship came in, saw this baby, and brought him home with him. It is for -hundreds of such little forlorn creatures as he that Miss Ray wants to -raise the largest sum we are able to give her. We can’t conceive how -much money is needed, but we can’t possibly make the amount too large.” - -The absolute simplicity of this little speech--for this was all he -said--coupled with the touching appeal of the baby in his arms, was -what did it; Mrs. Burns and Nan and Jane all said so afterward. With -the instinct for the right course at the right moment which is the -peculiar gift of the public speaker, Black divined, at the instant that -he came upon the platform, that the fewer his words the more loudly -would the tiny, silent figure do its own soliciting. And so it proved. - -“Please show the Belgian posters, Doctor Burns,” Black suggested, and -Red, taking them from Jane’s hands, held them up one by one without -comment. And one by one they were bid off, while Black stood and held -the baby and looked on, his eyes eloquent of his interest. Bid off at -sums which ranged higher and higher, as the company, now as ardent in -the cause of the living, breathing baby before them as they had been -apathetic in that of his small compatriots across the sea of whom -they had only heard, vied with each other to prove that they could be -generous when they really saw the reason why. - -“I’d certainly like a picture of Mr. Black and that baby at this -minute,” murmured Fanny Fitch in the ear of Nan Lockhart, as she -returned from a trip to the front of the room, where she had recklessly -emptied a gold mesh-bag to buy that for which she did not care at all. -She had looked up into Robert Black’s face as she stood below him, and -had received one of those strictly impartial smiles which he was now -bestowing upon everybody who asked for them; and she had come away -thoroughly determined to secure for herself, before much more time had -passed, a smile which should be purely personal. - -“He does look dear with the baby,” admitted Nan, heartily. “He holds -him as if he had held babies all his life. Oh, it’s splendid, the way -things are going now. How _was_ he inspired to get that child?” - -“Eye for the dramatic, my dear,” suggested her friend. “All successful -ministers have it. The unsuccessful ones lack it, and go around -wondering why their schemes fail. It’s perfectly legitimate--and it -makes them much more interesting. The Reverend Robert looks as innocent -as the child in his arms, but he’s really a born actor.” - -“Fanny Fitch! How ridiculous!” - -“If he weren’t he would have rushed up there with the baby and -harangued us for fifteen minutes about the needs of the Belgians. But -he has the dramatic sense just to stand there looking like a young -father angel, with those dark brows of his bent on the poor child, and -we fall for him like the idiots we are--as he knew we would. I never -dreamed of spending that last ten dollars. I didn’t spend it for the -Belgians at all. I spent it for Robert Black!” - -“I’m glad you’re frank enough to admit it.” - -“What’s the use in trying to conceal anything from you, Sharp Eyes?” -And Miss Fitch returned to her occupation of observing the events now -transpiring up in front, with a pair of lustrous eyes which missed no -detail. - -Jane’s receptacle for the money handed her was nearly full now. It -was a beautiful big bowl of Sheffield plate, one of the best in her -collection, and it had called forth much admiring comment. Red sold his -last poster--not all were for sale. This last one was the great “man -on the horse,” galloping with sword upraised and mouth shouting--the -most vivid and striking of all, though to the eye of the connoisseur -worth far less than some of quieter and more subtle suggestion. It was -promptly bid in by the rotund gentleman who had challenged Red half an -hour before, and he named so high a figure that he had no contestants. -He received his purchase with a large gesture of triumph and pleasure -with himself, and Jane, accepting his check, written with a flourish, -gave him the expression of gratitude he had coveted. - -She took the baby from Black, then, saying: “Your poster--hasn’t the -time come? Won’t you show it yourself, please?” - -“I want to, if I may. But it’s not for sale.” - -“Oh! Then we have all we are to get to-night.” - -“I’m not sure. Yes--I think we have all we are to get--to-night. -But--perhaps we have something to give.” - -She didn’t understand--how should she? She watched him go back to the -little platform, its boards covered with a fine rug and its backing -a piece of valuable French tapestry above which hung the French and -Belgian flags. Jane had conceived this effective setting for her -auctioneer, but it was none the less effective for the man who had -taken Burns’ place. Standing there he slowly unrolled the poster, and -the people before him ceased their buzzing talk to watch, for something -in his face told them that here was that which they must not miss. - -Ah, but this was an original! How had he procured it? It was a strip -of canvas which Black unrolled and silently held up before the hundred -pairs of gazing eyes. And as they looked, the last whisper gave way to -a stillness which was its own commentary on and tribute to the story -told by an artist who was somehow different from the rest. - -The colouring of the picture--it was a poster like the others--was all -rich blues and browns, with a hint of yellow and one gleam of white. -The background was a dim huddle of ruins and battle smoke. Close in -the foreground were two figures--a stalwart British soldier in khaki -and steel hat supporting a wounded Frenchman in the “horizon blue” of -the French army, his bare head bandaged and drooping upon his chest. -These two figures alone were infinitely touching, but that which gave -the picture its thrilling appeal was that at which the Briton, his hand -at the salute, was gazing over the bent head of his comrade. And of -that, at the extreme left of the picture, all that one saw was a rough -wooden post, and upon it, nailed to it by the rigid feet, two still, -naked limbs. A roadside Calvary--or the suggestion of it--that was all -one saw. But the look in the saluting soldier’s rugged face was one of -awe--and adoration. - -Black held the canvas for a long minute, his own grave face turned -toward it. Not even Fanny Fitch, in her cynical young heart, could -dare to accuse him of “acting” now. The silence over the room was -breathless--it was the hush which tells its story unmistakably. Before -it could be broken, Black lowered the canvas. - -“That’s all,” he said. “It brought it home to me so powerfully what is -happening ‘over there’--I just wanted you to see it, too. That’s where -the gifts you have given to-night are going.” - -“Mr. Black----” It was Mr. Samuel Lockhart, speaking in a low voice -from the front--“is that--to be bought?” - -“It is mine, Mr. Lockhart. It is not for sale.” - -“It is wonderful,” said the elder man, with reverence. - -Black rolled the canvas, and crossing the room put it out of sight. -When he came back a little crowd surrounded the Belgian baby, in Jane’s -arms. - -The assemblage took its leave with apparent reluctance. In the suburban -town there had been nothing just like this evening in the memory of the -oldest present. Those who carried posters with them held them rather -ostentatiously; those who had none were explaining, some of them, that -they had not been able to secure the ones they wanted, but that they -had been happy to contribute something to so worthy a fund. - -“Quite unique, and certainly very delightfully managed,” one stout -matron said to Jane as she extended a cordial hand. “You had courage, -my dear, to attempt this here. You must have raised more than you could -have expected.” - -“I haven’t counted it,” Jane answered. “It’s been a happy thing to try -to do it--I’m very grateful to you all.” - -When the last had gone, except the five who had been her helpers, she -sat down with the Sheffield bowl in her lap, and Red took his place -beside her, to help her count. Tom, having run home with the baby, was -back again, eagerly hanging over Red’s shoulder as he put bills of the -same denomination together, and sorted silver. The other three looked -on, eagerly awaiting the result. - -Red announced the sum total--it was a goodly sum, running well into the -hundreds. He looked up at Black. - -“Three fourths of that came in after you brought up that blamed little -beggar,” he said. “And the things you didn’t say were what turned -the trick! By George, you taught me a lesson to-night. Speech may be -silver, but a silence like that of yours sure was golden. I didn’t know -any man of your profession understood it so well. Hanged if I don’t -keep my tongue between my teeth, after this!” - -A burst of appreciatively skeptical laughter from those who knew him -answered this. But Black, though he smiled too, answered soberly: -“There’s a time for everything. You plowed--and the baby harrowed, that -was all. The Belgian fund reaps. I know we’re all mighty happy about -it.” - -When he left, a few minutes later, Jane Ray gave him the sort -of handshake, with her firm young hand closing with his in full -reciprocity, which one man gives to another. - -“I can’t thank you,” she said. “It was wonderfully done. But--do you -mind telling?--you must have held many babies!” - -How Black himself laughed then, his head thrown back, his white teeth -gleaming. “Being a woman, that’s what you get out of it,” he said. -“Yes--I’ve held every one I could ever get hold of. I like them a bit -bigger than that--a regular armful. Poor ‘blamed little beggar’--as the -Doctor called him! But he’ll be an armful some day. We’ll see to that.” - -“You bet we will,” declared Tom, who had been lingering to get away -with Black. “Night, Miss Ray. I’ll be around in the morning to help you -move things back. Don’t you touch a darned thing till I come. Promise! -I say, aren’t you grateful to me? I borrowed that baby, and brought him -here, too. The attention I attracted was awful. I had about ten dozen -street kids with me all the way. Maybe that wasn’t just as useful a -stunt as standing up and saying things, under the Belgian flag--eh?” - -She sent him her most adorable look. “Mr. Tom, you’re a trump. You have -my deepest appreciation--and good-night!” - - * * * * * - -“I say,” said Tom, a minute later, when they were well away, “I call -her some girl. She’s--she’s--well, she’s a regular fellow--and you know -how I mean that, don’t you?” - -“Yes,” replied Black, looking fixedly up the street, as if he saw there -something which interested him very much. “I know how you mean that. -I think you are--right. Tom, would you object to telling me what all -those women meant about my holding that baby? How on earth did I hold -it differently from the way any man would hold it?” - -“Young Mrs. Germain told me,” said Tom, chuckling with glee, “that you -held it in your left arm. They said nobody except an old hand would -do that. To have your right free to do other things--see? I never -understood about that before. I carried the kid on my right arm.” - -“After this,” declared Robert McPherson Black, firmly, “if I ever have -occasion to hold an infant in public, I shall do it with _my_ right -arm!” - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -RATHER A BIG THING - - -Black was standing in the vestibule of a train which was bringing him -back, at a late hour, from the city where he had spent the day at a -conference of clergymen. He was somewhat weary, for the day had been -filled with long debate over a certain question which had seemed to him -vital indeed but not debatable. He had not hesitated to say so, and had -been delayed after the evening session was over by men who still wanted -to talk it out interminably with him. He had missed his trolley and had -therefore taken the train. - -As the train drew in Black found himself crowded next to a young man -who seemed to be suffering from an excessive nervousness. He was tall -and thin, rather handsome of face, but with eyes so deeply shadowed -that they suggested extreme and recent illness. His manner was so -shaky, as he went down the steps ahead of Black, and he set down his -bag upon the platform with such a gesture of supreme fatigue, that -Black stopped to find out if he were indeed ill, and if he needed -help. At the same moment the stranger looked round at him, and put a -question in a quick, breathless voice which indicated both anxiety and -difficulty at self-control. - -“Can you tell me,” he jerked out, “where Miss Ray’s shop is--antique -shop--Jane Ray? I ought to know--forgotten the street.” - -Black hesitated. Send this unknown and unnatural young man to Jane at -this late hour? He looked both dissipated and irresponsible, and Black -thought he caught the odour of alcohol upon his breath. - -“It’s late. The shop will be closed,” Black suggested. “Hadn’t you -better go to a hotel to-night, and look it up in the morning?” - -The stranger frowned, and answered irritably--almost angrily: - -“I should say not. Miss Ray’s my sister. Will you tell me where the -shop is, or have I got to find somebody who will?” - -Black made a quick decision. “I’ll show you the way. It’s not far out -of my course.” - -His eyes searched the stranger’s face, to find there confirmation -of the statement which otherwise he would not have been inclined to -believe. The resemblance, taking into account the difference between -Jane’s look of vitality and radiant energy, and this young man’s whole -aspect of broken health and overwrought nerves, was very apparent. And -as the stranger looked down the platform, and his profile was presented -to Black’s scrutiny, he saw that the same definite outlines of beauty -and distinction were there, not to be mistaken. On this basis he could -have no hesitation in guiding the markedly feeble footsteps to her -door, though he was wondering, rather anxiously, just what his arrival, -evidently unexpected by her, would mean to her. Black had never heard -anybody mention her having a brother--he had understood she was quite -alone in the world. - -The two set out down the street. The young man walked so falteringly -that after a minute Black took his well-worn leather bag away from him, -saying pleasantly: “Let me carry it. You’re not quite fit, I’m sure.” - -The other glowered. “Not fit! What do you mean by that? I’m fit -enough--I’m just worn out, that’s all. Overwork--illness--nerves--I’m -all in. But if you mean to imply----” - -“I don’t mean to imply anything, Mr. Ray--if that is your name. I can -see you have been ill. Let me put my hand under your arm, won’t you? -I’d call a cab if there were any to be had--I’m afraid there aren’t.” - -“Don’t want a cab--can walk. Walk faster, that’s all. I’m liable to go -to pieces pretty soon--haven’t eaten a mouthful to-day--couldn’t look -at it. These confounded nerves----” - -There was no doubt but his nerves were confounded, and badly, at that. -As they walked the few squares necessary to get to Jane’s little -street, Black felt his companion becoming more and more desperately -shaken in body and mind. Several times he said something which struck -Black as all but irrational. More than once he would have wavered far -away from the straight course if Black’s arm had not held him steady. A -policeman looked sharply at the pair as they passed under the light at -a corner, and Black was aware that but one inference was likely--one he -was not at all sure was untrue. - -The shop was dark when they reached it, and Black rang the bell. Just -as a light appeared, and he saw Jane coming through from her rooms in -the rear, the stranger suddenly sank against Black’s shoulder, and he -was forced to drop the bag and hold him supported in both arms. So when -Jane opened the door, it was to this singular and somewhat startling -apparition. - -“Don’t be frightened, Miss Ray,” said Black’s quietly assured voice. -“He’s only faint, I think. This is--your brother? He’s been ill, and -wasn’t quite strong enough to make the journey. We’ll get him lying -down as fast as we can.” - -“Oh, Cary!” Jane was out of the door in an instant, and her strong -young arm was around her brother from the opposite side. “Can you walk, -dear?” - -He hardly had to walk, so nearly did they carry him. They had him -through the shop and into the little living room in no time at all, -and Jane had run for a stimulant. The glass she held to his lips and -the prostrate position revived him quickly. He made a wry face at the -tumbler she had set down upon a table. - -“Can’t you do better than that?” he questioned, weakly. “For God’s -sake give me the real thing--I need it. I’m dying for it--yes, dying -literally, if you want to know.” - -Jane shook her head. “No, dear--I haven’t any--and I’m sure you don’t -need it. I’ll make you some strong tea. Oh, I’m so glad you came, Cary!” - -The young man seemed to try to smile--but the smile looked more like -tears. He held up a shaking hand. - -“Nerves--Jane--nerves. I’m all in--I’m a wreck. I’m----” His look -wavered around at Black, who stood above and behind him. “We’ll excuse -you, sir,” he said, with an effort at dignity. “I’m very much obliged -to you--and now--please go!” - -Jane looked up at Black with a face into which the quick and lovely -colour poured in a flood. “My brother isn’t himself,” she said under -her breath. “Do forgive him. I’m so grateful to you. I can get on with -him nicely now.” - -“I can surely be of service to you yet, Miss Ray,” Black said with -decision. “Your brother needs care, and I can help you make him -comfortable.” - -She shook her head. “I can do all he needs,” she said, “and it’s late. -I can’t----” - -And then Cary Ray decided things for himself by sitting up and pointing -with a shaking finger and a voice of fright toward a shadowy corner. -“What’s that!” he whispered. “What’s that? You haven’t got ’em here, -too, have you? I thought _you_ wouldn’t have ’em--not _you_!” - -There was nothing in the corner. Black laid young Ray gently but firmly -down upon the couch again. “No, you’re mistaken,” he said quietly. “We -haven’t got them here--and we’re not going to have them. Trust me for -that--I know all about it.” - -Across the dark head, again fallen weakly upon the couch pillow, -Black’s eyes met Jane’s. “Please let me stay awhile?” he urged. - -She knew then that he knew, and that it was of no use to try to hide -the pitiful, shameful thing from him. She nodded and turned away, and -he saw her clench one hand tight as she went to Cary’s bag and opened -it. He saw her search through the bag, and take from it something which -he did not see, because she went out of the room with it. She was gone -some time. While she was away, he occupied himself with keeping Cary’s -attention from concentrating on that corner of which his suspicions -became now and then acute. - -When she returned, her brother was talking fast and disconnectedly. - -“I haven’t slept--” he was saying, in a tone that was half a wail--“I -haven’t slept for a week--haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in months. -I---- How can you expect--I tell you a fellow can’t keep going--work’s -all gone to pot----” - -Jane came close to him. “You shall stay here and rest up, Cary,” -she said gently, with her hand on his hot head. “And I’ll feed you -wonderfully and get you strong again. Could you take just a little -something now?--A glass of milk--a tiny sandwich----” - -He shook his head, with a gesture of distaste. “Don’t say food to -me--don’t bring any in my sight. There’s just one thing I want--and -I know you won’t give it to me. Jane----” he caught at her hand--“it -would make me sleep, and God knows I need that--I shall die without -it. I--that thing in the corner--oh, I didn’t think it would track me -here----” - -“It isn’t here. Forget it!” Black spoke sternly. “You’re going to -bed, and to sleep--I’m going to see to that. Miss Ray--you’ll let me -get your brother into his bed, won’t you? Once there, I’ll put him to -sleep--I know I can--and that’s what he needs more than anything.” - -“I’ll go and make his room ready,” said Jane Ray. She had to yield. She -knew Cary needed a man’s hand, a man’s will. Strong and resourceful -though she was, she understood that at this pass no woman could control -the disordered nerves as a man could. She could only be thankful that -she had this man at her service at this hour, though perhaps he was the -last man she would have picked out, or have been willing to have know -of her unhappy situation. But he knew it now, and somehow, as her eyes -met his, she could not be quite sorry, after all, that it was he who -was to help her. At least, whether he could deal with Cary or not, she -could be absolutely sure that she could trust him. And this was not -because of his profession--rather, to Jane, it was in spite of it. - -So, presently, Black found himself putting Cary Ray to bed--in a room -he didn’t in the least deserve to have, for it was unquestionably -Jane’s own. Every detail of its furnishing told him that, though he -did not allow himself to study it much from this point of view. It was -rather a large room, and as simply outfitted as could be imagined, -and yet somehow its whole aspect gave the impression of character and -charm. And Black had never in his life hated to see a man installed in -a place which didn’t belong to him as he hated to see Cary Ray made -comfortable in this exquisitely chaste room of Jane’s. Yet he couldn’t -very well protest. He knew as well as if he had been told that it was -the only room of adequate size and comfort which she had to put at her -brother’s service, and that, since he was ill and in need, she wouldn’t -dream of tucking him up on a couch somewhere as a substitute. For one -bad moment Black was astonished to discover that he was longing to -pitch this dissipated young man out of the house, and tell his sister -to keep her white sheets clean from his contaminated body. - -But then, of course, he settled to his task, sternly putting such -thoughts away from him. Having got Cary stretched between those same -sheets, the lights extinguished--except that from an amber-shaded -reading light beside the bed--instead of taking a chair he sat down -on the foot of the bed in a friendly sort of way, and remarked in the -most matter-of-fact tone in the world--“This reminds me of a night I -spent once down in Virginia----” And from that he was off, by degrees, -and not at all as if he had set himself to entertain his patient, into -a recital that presently captured Cary’s hitherto fitful attention -and held it until the sense of strangeness in the whole situation had -somewhat gone by for the invalid--if not for the nurse. - -The night was not spent, however, in telling stories. It is true that -Cary himself told one or two--and lurid tales they were, with more -than a suspicion of nightmare in them, the nightmare of drugs or of a -disordered brain. There were intervals--though few of them--when the -young man sank into a brief sleep, as if from profound exhaustion, but -he invariably awoke with a start and a cry to a condition which became, -as the hours went on, more and more difficult to control. Black did -succeed in controlling it, by sheer force of will; he seemed to have a -peculiar power to do this. His hand upon Cary’s, his voice in his ear, -and time and again the strained nerves and muscles would relax, and the -crisis would pass. But more than once, so wild was the almost delirium -of the sufferer, that it took all Black’s physical strength to keep -command. - -Jane was there only a part of the time. It was during the periods of -repose and half slumber that she would slip noiselessly into the room, -stand watching her brother silently, or sit down upon the foot of the -bed opposite Black, to look at the thin face on the pillow with her -unhappy heart in her eyes. Black had never seen much of Jane’s heart -before; he couldn’t help seeing something of it now. It was beyond -his power to refrain, now and then, as the two sat in the hush of the -night, so strangely thrown together in a situation which neither could -ever have foreseen, from looking across at Jane’s clear-cut profile -in the subdued light, and studying it as if he had never seen it -before. His pity for her grew as the hours went by, and with his pity -a tenderness grew also, until, quite suddenly, he was startled by a -consciousness that he wanted to go around to her and take her hands in -his and tell her--that he would stand by her to the last limit of his -power. - -On one of her trips into the room, when Cary happened to be quiet for -a little, Jane whispered to Black that she would take his place and he -must go downstairs and eat the lunch she had prepared for him. When he -told her that he didn’t need it she only pointed, quite imperiously, to -the door, and he obediently left the room and went to do her bidding. -It was as he was finishing the delicious viands he found on the table -in the room below that his ear, alert for any signs of trouble above, -caught the sinister sound he was listening for. He ran up, three steps -at a time, to find Jane struggling in the grip of her half-crazed -brother, who was demanding in language so profane that it seemed to -burn the air, the instant production of the one thing in the world he -wanted. - -“You’ve got it--you’re hiding it--you little fool! Do you want to -see me dead before morning--you----” Then came the oaths, this time -but half uttered before a strong, smothering hand descended upon the -twisting mouth, and a stern voice said commandingly: “Not another word -like that, Ray, or I’ll choke you till you’re still!” At the same -moment a jerk of Black’s head toward the door and his fiery glance at -Jane told her that he wanted her out of the room and out of hearing as -fast as she could get away. - -It was a long tussle this time, but it was over at last, and once -more, worn out by the violence of his own efforts, Cary lay quiet for -a little. Confident that though not asleep he would not at once find -strength to fight again, Black stole out of the room. In the narrow -hall outside he found Jane, sitting on the top stair, her head buried -in her arms. - -Thus far he had known Jane only as a finely practical young business -woman, as independent as she was capable. He had seen that adorable -head of hers, with its smooth crown of chestnut hair, always held -high, with a suggestion of indomitable courage. Now--it looked as if -it had been brought low--incredibly low. She had long before exchanged -the dress in which she had spent the day in the shop for a plain white -skirt and blouse such as nurses wear, and in this costume she looked -much younger and more girlish than in the more conventional dress. Her -white-shod feet were crossed as a girl crosses them; and altogether, in -the dim light from the half-open door, she seemed to Black more like -Cary’s dependent young sister than one older than himself to whom he -had come as to a refuge. He didn’t know, as yet, that after all it was -Cary who was the older. - -At the sound of the light footstep, however, Jane instantly lifted -her head, and then rose quickly to her feet, and he saw her smile--an -undoubtedly forced little smile, but full of pluck. - -“You must be desperately tired,” she whispered. “But I don’t know what -I should have done without you this night.” - -“You couldn’t have done without me. I can’t tell you how glad I am to -be here. And I’m not half as tired as you are. Won’t you go now and lie -down? You can’t do a bit of good by staying on guard here, and you’ll -need your strength to-morrow. This isn’t going to be a short siege, I’m -afraid.” - -“I know it’s not. But I’ve been through it all before. I shall call -Doctor Burns to-morrow. I tried to to-night, so I could release you, -but he was away for the night. And--I didn’t want to call anybody else. -Nobody else--here--knows, and--I can’t have them know.” - -“Nobody knows you have a brother?” - -“Oh, they’ve seen Cary--but only when he was--himself. He is--Cary is -a genius, Mr. Black; he just has--the defects of his temperament. He--I -can show you----” - -And then, quite suddenly and unexpectedly, the tears leaped into her -eyes. Like a small boy, abashed at having shown emotion, she threw back -her head, smiling again, and drawing the back of her hand across the -tell-tale eyes. “Oh, I’m ashamed of myself,” she breathed. “Believe me, -I’m not so weak as this looks.” - -“You’re not in the least weak. And it’s three o’clock in the morning, -the hour when things take hold. See here----” And he looked her -straight in the eyes. “Jane Ray,” he said, not too gently, but as a man -might say it to a man, though he spoke low, on account of that open -door--“I want you to know that, whatever comes, I’ll see you through. -I won’t add--‘if you’ll let me’--for you’re going to let me. You can’t -help it--after to-night.” And he held out his hand. “Shall we make a -pledge of it?” he added, smiling gravely. - -She looked straight back at him. “You can’t--see me through,” she said. -“You--I’ve no claim on you. You have your church----” - -“I have. Is that a reason why I can’t stand by you? If it is--it’s not -the church I gave myself to. And--I think you need another brother. -I’m sure Cary does.” His hand was waiting. He looked down at it. “Are -you going to make me take it back?” he asked. “That would--feel very -strange. I didn’t offer it--to take back.” - -She put her own into it then. He gave it a long, strong clasp and let -it go. Without looking at him she turned and ran downstairs, and he -went back into the room where Cary was beginning to stir restlessly -again. - -He was conscious, in every fibre, that something had happened to him. -He had not had the least idea, when he had begun his vigils that night, -that before morning he should be thrilled as he never had been thrilled -before, by a simple handclasp, and a few spoken words, offering only -what he had offered many a man or woman in trouble before now, his -sympathy and help. But somehow--this had been different. He was acutely -aware that the wish to see Jane Ray through whatever difficulties and -problems might lie before her in connection with this brother of hers -was a mighty different sort of wish from any that he had experienced -before. And the fact that she had tacitly accepted his help--proud -Jane--for he knew she was proud--gave him a satisfaction out of all -proportion to any ordinary significance attached to so obvious and -natural a suggestion. There was now a bond between them--that was the -thing that took hold of him; a bond which made possible--well, what -did it make possible? What did he want it to make possible? He didn’t -try to go into that. One thing was sure: he had, by an accident, come -into her life in a way he had never dreamed of, and once in--he wanted -to stay. This touch of intimate comradeship had been something new in -his experience. It might never happen again; certainly he could not -continue to take care of Cary Ray through nights such as this one had -been. Doubtless Doctor Burns, once called, would take care of that; -Black knew that under the proper treatment the following night might -be one of comparative calm. But he could come to see him often; could -cultivate his friendship--gain as much influence over him as possible. -And if others found out about it, criticized him for giving time -and thought to people outside his parish--well--they might. Black’s -decision on this head was one which brooked no interference. Where he -could help he would help, in his parish or out of it.... - -It was at five o’clock in the morning that he fell asleep. He had not -meant to go to sleep, and had been caught unawares. For an hour Cary -had been quiet. Black, sitting on the edge of his bed, had found a -new way to keep hold of his man--and that was by keeping hold of him -literally. In a moment of desperation he had seized the thin, restless -fingers and forced them to remain still in his own. The firm contact -had produced a remarkable effect. After a little Cary’s hand had laid -hold of Black’s and clung to it, while the invalid himself had sunk -almost immediately away into something more resembling real slumber -than anything in the past night. Finding this expedient so successful -Black had allowed it to continue, for each time he tried to release -himself Cary took a fresh grip, like a child who will not let go his -hold upon his mother, even in unconsciousness. Finally, Black had made -himself as comfortable as he could by slipping down upon the floor, -where he could rest his head upon the bed without withdrawing his hand. -And in this posture, one eloquent of his own fatigue from the long -vigil, he went soundly to sleep. - -So when, with the approach of daylight, Jane came in to tell her -assistant that he must go home now, while the streets were empty of -observant eyes, she found what she had not expected. She stood looking -at the two figures the one stretched so comfortably in the bed, the -other propped in so strained an attitude outside of it. As she looked -something very womanly and beautiful came into her eyes. - -“Is it possible--” this was her thought--“that _you_ have done -this--for _me_? I didn’t know men of your profession ever did things -like this. But if I had known any of them ever did, I should have known -it would be you!” - -He looked like a tall and fine-featured boy as he slept in his twisted -position, did Robert McPherson Black. He had taken off his coat while -he wrestled with Cary, and the white shirt-sleeves rolled to the -elbows, showing a sinewy forearm, added to the boyish effect. Suddenly -Jane’s eyes caught sight of something on one bare arm which made her -stoop lower, and then flush with chagrin. It was the unmistakable -mark upon the fair flesh of gripping fingers with nails which had -torn--already turning dark, as such deep bruises do. It was a little -thing enough--Jane knew already how her new friend would make light of -it if she mentioned it--and yet somehow it was rather a big thing, too. -It gave emphasis to the service he had done her; how could she have -dealt, alone, with wild brutality like that? - -Then, as she looked, Cary roused, turned, opened his eyes, withdrew his -hand with a jerk, and Black woke also. And Cary was sane again, and -very weak, and spoke querulously: - -“What the devil----” he began. “Who are you--and what are you doing -here?” Then, to Jane,--“Is this a cheap lodging house, and do you take -in every vagrant that comes along?” - -“I took you in, dear,” said Jane, quietly. “And Mr. Black has stayed by -you all night. He must be very tired.” - -Black laughed. “I’ve had quite a sleep, anyhow,” he said, attempting -with considerable difficulty to get upon his feet. “Certain areas seem -to have been more asleep than others, though. My arm--” and he began -to pinch and pound it--“looks to be all here, but it feels rather -absent.” It was absent indeed, and hanging by his side, quite numb. - -Cary’s eyes widened. “You don’t mean--why, you’re the chap -that--that----” His weak voice took on a tension. - -“Never mind about the identification. I’m glad you’re feeling better -this morning.” - -“I don’t feel better. I feet like the devil. But I--I’m certainly -obliged to you. I--have you been here all--night?” - -“Of course. Oh, thank you, Miss Ray--it’ll come back in a minute,” for -Jane had come up and was applying a vigorous massage with her own hands -to the inert arm. - -“Well, I’ll be----” but Cary left the exclamation unfinished, and began -another. “I say--I’m not worth it!” he groaned, and buried his head in -the crumpled white pillow. - -Downstairs, presently, Black, ready to go, spoke authoritatively. -“Please promise me you will call the Doctor early.” - -“I will,” Jane agreed. “He has seen Cary before. If I could only have -had him last night, and spared you--I shouldn’t feel so guilty this -morning. Why----” and at this moment, for the first time, a recognition -came to her. It left her a little stunned. “Mr. Black,” she said, -unhappily, “I’m just realizing what day this is. It’s----” - -“Yes, it’s Sunday,” admitted Black, smiling, “And none the worse for -that, is it?” - -“But--you have to preach--and you’ve been up all night!” - -“I suppose it’s because I’m a Scot, but--I’ve seldom left my sermons -till Saturday and Sunday to prepare. I’m all armed and equipped, Miss -Ray--you’ve nothing to regret.” - -“But you haven’t slept--you’re frightfully tired----” - -“Do I look as haggard as that? If I do, it’s only because I need a -clean shave. Come--if you weren’t tied up I’d challenge you to go to -church and see if I can’t hit from the shoulder, in spite of my lusty -right arm’s getting numb for ten minutes in your service. Good-by, for -the present, Miss Ray. I shall call you up, later, to learn if the -Doctor’s been here. And I shall--make friends with your brother the -very best I know how.” - -He looked straight down into her uplifted eyes as he shook hands--with -no lingering or extra pressure this time, just the hard, comradely -grasp it was his nature to give. Then he was gone, out into the early -morning twilight, without a glance to right or left to see if any saw -him go. - -An hour later Red came in, looked the situation over, and commented -brusquely: - -“You must have had a--an Inferno--of a night with him.” - -“I didn’t--because I wasn’t alone. Mr. Black stayed all night and took -care of him.” - -“What?” The quick question spoke incredulity. Red stared at her. - -“He brought Cary from the station, and then stayed--because--he thought -he was needed. I don’t know quite what I should have done without him.” - -Red whistled. “You bet you don’t. Well, well--the minister certainly is -game. Didn’t worry about what some old lady of the parish might think, -eh?” - -Jane drew herself up. “You don’t mean that, Doctor Burns.” - -He laughed. “No, I don’t mean that. There was every reason why he -should ignore any such possibility--I understand the situation -exactly. But I think it was rather game of him, just the same. A -case like Cary’s isn’t exactly a joke to take care of, and the -average outsider gets out from under--and sends flowers to show his -sympathy--or a bottle of whisky, according to his lights. Well--to go -back to this precious brother of yours----” - -“That is the right adjective,” said Jane Ray, steadily. “You know -perfectly well, Doctor Burns, he’s all I have.” - -“Yes, I know.” He returned the look. “And I’ll do my best to put him -on his feet again. But he needs something neither you nor I can give -him. I’m inclined to think--and this is something of a concession for -me to make, Jane--I’m inclined to think Robert Black could. Cary’s a -dreamer--and a weak one. Bob Black’s a dreamer--but a strong one. If he -could get Cary to--well--to dream the right sort of dream---- You see, -it’s a case where a knowledge of psychology might take a hand where a -knowledge of pathology falls down. Do you get me?” - -“I think I do. You want me to--encourage an acquaintance between them?” - -“That’s exactly what I mean. I know you’re no church-goer, my dear--and -I admit I’ve never been much of a one myself. I feel a bit differently -of late--perhaps you can guess why. If you could get Cary under the -influence of this man Black--a friendship between them might do the -trick. Anyhow, don’t lay any stones in the way out of fear of putting -yourself under obligations to Black. I’ve discovered that he’s happiest -when he’s doing some absolutely impossible thing for somebody to -whom he’s under no obligation to do it. People take advantage of a -disposition like that--but he can’t exactly be trampled on, either--so -you’re pretty safe. Now--to come down to brass tacks----” And he fell -to giving her precise directions as to the line of treatment he wished -carried out. - -“He’ll sleep to-night,” he prophesied. “He’s got to. I’ll come around -this evening and put him under for you. Good-bye for now, and remember -I’m on the job.” - -She was feeling, as she went back to her difficult task, more hopeful -about Cary than she had ever felt hitherto. Well she might. She had now -enlisted in his behalf the whole power of a reconstructing force of -which until now she had hardly recognized the existence. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -SPENDTHRIFTS - - -Robert Black was dressing for the day. This procedure, simple and -commonplace enough in the schedule of the ordinary man, was for him -usually a somewhat complicated process. The reason for this was that -he was apt to be, as to-day, attempting at the same time to finish the -reading from some left-over chapter of the book he had been devouring -the last thing before he went to bed. Of course he could neither take -his cold tub nor shave his always darkening chin while perusing the -latest addition to his rapidly growing library. But the moment these -activities were over, he could and did don his attire for the day while -engaged in scanning the printed page propped upon the chest of drawers -before him. The result of this economy of time was that he seldom -actually heard the bell ring to summon him to his breakfast, and was -accustomed to appear in the dining-room doorway, book in one hand, -morning paper just gathered in from the doorstep in the other, and to -find there Mrs. Hodder awaiting him in a grieved silence. He would then -offer her a smiling apology, upon which she would shake her head over -the incomprehensible ways of men who thought more of the feeding of -brains than body, and proceed devotedly to serve him with food kept hot -for his coming. - -On this particular morning Black, strolling in as usual, book under -his arm, newspaper stretched before him, eagerly snatching at the -headlines always big with war news these days, paused to finish a long -paragraph, at the same time saying cheerfully, “Good morning, Mrs. -Hodder. Late again, am I? Sorry! Afraid I’m hopeless. But--listen -to this:” The paragraph finished, he looked up, emphatic comment on -his lips. It died there even as it was born, for the room was empty, -the table unset, the curtains at the windows undrawn. In brief, no -breakfast was awaiting the minister this morning, and there was no -possible explanation visible. - -Black may have been an incorrigible student; he was also unquestionably -a man of action. He threw book and paper upon the table and ascended -the back stairs in long leaps. Had Mrs. Hodder overslept? It was -inconceivable. The only other logical supposition then was that she was -ill. If she were ill--and alone--of course he couldn’t get to her too -soon--hence the leaps. She must be very ill indeed to keep her from -preparing the breakfast which, he had discovered, was to her, in the -manse, nothing less than a rite. - -He knocked upon her door. An unhappy voice instantly replied: “Open the -door--just a crack--Mr. Black, and I’ll tell you----” - -He opened the door the required crack, and the explanation issued, in -unmistakable accents of suffering: - -“I tried my best to get down, I did indeed, Mr. Black. But the truth -is I can’t move. No--no--” at an exclamation from outside the door -denoting sympathy and alarm--“I haven’t got a stroke nor anything like -that. It’s nothing more nor less than the lumbago, and I’m humiliated -to death to think I got such a thing. I’m subject to it, and that’s the -truth, and I never know when it’ll ketch me, but I haven’t had a touch -of it since I’ve been with you. I begun to think there was something -about the manse--and doing for a minister, maybe--that kept it away. -But--it’s caught me good this time, and I don’t know what you’ll do for -your breakfast. I think maybe you’d better go over to the----” - -But here Black interrupted her. “I’ll get my own breakfast,” he -announced firmly, “and yours, too. Stay perfectly quiet till I bring -you up a tray. After that we’ll have the doctor in to see you----” - -He was interrupted in his turn. “I don’t want any doctor. Doctors can’t -do a thing for lumbago--except tell you you got chilled or something, -and to keep still and rest up. When the pain goes it goes, and you -can’t tell when. Maybe ’long about noon I can get downstairs. I don’t -want any breakfast, and if you’ll go over to the----” - -“I’m not going to the hotel, Mrs. Hodder--and you’re not going without -your breakfast. I will----” - -“You can’t cook!” - -“I can cook enough to keep us from starving. Now, lie still and -I’ll----” - -“You don’t know where a thing is----” - -“I can find out.” - -A groan issued from the hidden bed. “I never knew a man that could. -Listen here, Mr. Black. Now the coffee’s in the closet up above the -kitchen table, the third door from the right. It’s in the same can -it comes in, but it ain’t ground, and the grinder’s in the pantry, -fastened to the wall. There may be some basins piled in front of it--I -don’t remember--likely they is. The cream’s in the ice-chest--and -_don’t_ skim the first pan you come to, because that’s night’s milk. -You want to skim yesterday morning’s pan, and that’s pushed back -farther. Now the bread-box----” - -“I know where that is----” - -“The oatmeal’s in the double-boiler--all you have to do is to set it -front of the stove, and make sure the water ain’t all boiled away. -Lucky I always cook _that_ the night before. I suppose you don’t know -how to light the gas in the broiler, so you can toast your bread. It’s -the third knob to the left----” - -Black got away at last, further instructions following him by the air -line, in spite of his shouted assurance that he could find everything -and do everything, and that his housekeeper should rest comfortably -and stop worrying. It must be confessed, however, that he was worrying -a bit himself, for his first thought that he would make a breakfast -of oatmeal--since that was already cooked--and let it go at that, was -instantly followed by the recollection that Mrs. Hodder didn’t eat -oatmeal herself, but relied principally upon the toast and coffee and -boiled egg he himself was accustomed to take with her. Unquestionably -she must have these, and it was up to him to prepare them. - -He removed his coat, rolled up his shirt-sleeves, and went at it. He -lighted the gas and moved the double-boiler forward, thus assuring -himself of one staple article upon the breakfast schedule. He then -began a search for the coffee, congratulating himself upon remembering -that the filtered beverage with which he was accustomed to be served -took time to make. Thus began the tragic hour which followed.... - -Three quarters of an hour later young Tom Lockwood came to the manse -door and rang the bell. Black paused, halfway between stove and pantry, -then turned back to the stove, because his sense of smell told him -unmistakably that something fatally wrong was occurring there. He -tried to diagnose the case in a hurry, failed, and hastened unwillingly -through the house to the door, wondering just how flushed and upset he -looked. He felt both to an extreme degree. Absolutely nothing seemed to -be going right with that breakfast. - -Tom came in, in his customary breezy way. “Morning! Thought I’d drop -in and see if you didn’t want to run up on the hills to-day, same as -you said a while back, when we both had a morning to spare.” He paused, -surveying his host with an observant eye. “Anything the matter, Mr. -Black? Haven’t had--bad news, or anything?” - -Black smiled. “Do I look as despondent as that? No, no--everything’s -all right, thank you. But I’m afraid I can’t get away this morning to -go with you. My housekeeper’s not very well. I----” - -“Look here.” Tom eyed a black mark on the minister’s forehead, -and noted the rolled-up shirt-sleeves. “You’re not--trying to get -breakfast, are you? I say--I’ll bet that’s what you’re doing. If you -are, let me help. I can make dandy coffee.” Suddenly he sniffed the -air. “Something’s burning!” - -The two ran back to the kitchen, making a race of it. Black won, his -nostrils full now of a metallic odour. He dashed up to the stove where -a double-boiler was protesting that its lower section had long since -boiled dry and was being ruined, and hastily removed it. He gazed at it -ruefully. - -“She told me to look out for it,” he admitted. - -“Some little cook, you are!” Tom, hands in pockets, surveyed a saucepan -in which two eggs were boiling violently, fragments of white issuing -from cracked shells. “Busted ’em when you put ’em in, didn’t you? How -long have they been at it--or isn’t there any time limit to the way you -like your eggs?” - -Black snatched the saucepan off. “I think I must have put them on some -twenty minutes ago. You see, the toast distracted my mind.” He set -down the saucepan and hurriedly wrenched open the door of the broiler. -“Oh--thunder!” he exploded. Blackened ruins were all that met the eye. - -Tom leaned against a table, exploding joyously. “Want me to say it for -you?” he offered. - -“Thanks.” Black’s jaw was now set grimly. “I wonder if there’s any fool -thing I haven’t done--or failed to do. Anyhow, the coffee----” - -Tom got ahead of him at that, lifted the pot, turned up the lid, -estimated the contents of the upper container, and shook his head. “The -brew will be somewhat pale, methinks,” was his comment. “I say, Mr. -Black, you’re no camper, are you?” - -“Never had the chance. And never spent an hour learning to cook. -I’m awfully humiliated, but that doesn’t help it any. It did seem -simple--to boil an egg and make a slice of toast.” - -“It isn’t--it’s darned complicated. Oatmeal and coffee make the scheme -horribly intricate, too. I know all about it. I’ve leaped around -between two campfires and frizzled my bacon to death while I rescued -my coffee, and knocked over my coffee pot while I fished up the little -scraps of bacon from the bottom of the frying-pan. Here--I’ll fix the -coffee. Start some more toast, and we’ll hash up that hard-boiled-egg -effect to lay on top, and pretend we meant it that way from the first. -Along towards noon we’ll have that tray ready for the lady upstairs.” - -“Tom, you’re a man and a brother. But I’m going to send you off and -see this thing through alone if it takes all day.” And Black pushed him -gently but firmly toward the door. Tom, laughing, found it no use to -resist. He paused to lay an appraising hand on the bare forearm which -was showing such unexpected strength. - -“Some muscle, I’ll say. Nobody’d guess it under that clerical -coat-sleeve. Look here--you’ll come over to dinner to-night, and get a -square meal? Mother’ll be----” - -“Tom, if you so much as mention the situation here I’ll make you pay -dearly--see if I don’t! We’re all right. I’ll never make these same -mistakes again. If Mrs. Hodder isn’t down by night I’ll buy a tin of -baked beans. Promise you won’t give me away.” - -“Oh, all right, all right. You can trust me. But I don’t see why----” - -“I do--and that’s enough. Good-bye, Tom.” - -They went through the hall arm in arm, parted at the door, and Tom ran -back to his car. “You’re some Scotchman, Robert Black,” he said to -himself. “But I wish you’d let me make that coffee.” - -It was nine-thirty by the kitchen clock when Mrs. Hodder received -her breakfast tray. She had managed, smotheredly groaning, to don a -wrapper, and to comb her iron-gray locks, so that according to her -ideas of propriety she might decently admit her employer to her rigidly -neat apartment. - -“I’m terrible sorry to make you all this trouble, Mr. Black,” she said. -“My, it’s wonderful how you’ve done all this.” And she eyed the little -tray with its cup of steaming coffee, now a deep black in hue, its two -slices of curling but unburned toast, and its opened egg. - -“I think it’s rather wonderful myself,” the minister conceded. Moisture -stood upon his brow; his right wrist showed a red mark as of a burn; -but his look was triumphant. “I hope you’ll enjoy it. And I’ve asked -Doctor Burns to look in, on his rounds, and fix you up. If he says you -should have a nurse we’ll have one.” - -“I don’t want the doctor, and I won’t have a nurse--for the lumbago; -I’d feel like a fool. All that worries me is how you’ll manage till I -can get round. You ain’t used to doin’ for yourself.” - -“I’ve done for myself in most ways ever since I came over from -Scotland, a boy of sixteen. Come, eat your egg, Mrs. Hodder. I’ll be -back for the tray soon. Let me put another pillow behind your back----” - -He would wait on her, she couldn’t help it, and it must be admitted -she rather enjoyed it, in spite of the pain that caught her afresh -with every smallest move. It was like having a nice son to look after -her, she thought. She submitted to his edict that she was to trust him -to run the house in her absence from the kitchen, and if she had her -doubts as to how he would accomplish this, they gave way before the -decision in his tone. - -It was three days after this that Red, coming in at five in the -afternoon, to take a look at Mrs. Hodder, whom he had been obliged -to neglect since his first visit in a pressure of work for sicker -patients, discovered Black in the midst of his new activities. The -minister was hurriedly sweeping and dusting his study, having rushed -home from a round of calls at the recollection that a committee -meeting, which included three women, was to be held there that evening. -Mrs. Hodder was accustomed to keep the room in careful order; he -himself had been throwing things about it for three days now,--and -undusted black walnut desks and other dark furniture certainly do show -neglect in a fashion peculiarly unreserved. - -“Well, well!” Red paused in the study door. “I knew you were a man of -action, but I didn’t know it extended this far. Can’t anybody be found -to bridge the chasm?” - -“I don’t want anybody, thanks. A little exercise won’t hurt me. Will -you stop a minute? I’ll dust that leather chair for you.” - -To his surprise Red moved over to the chair and sat down on the arm of -it. “You look a trifle weary,” he observed. - -“That’s the dirt on my face. I swept the room with violence--it needed -it. Most of the dust settled on me.” - -“They should equip the manse with a vacuum cleaner. Been rather busy -to-day?” - -“Somewhat. Have you?” Black’s glance said that in both cases the fact -went without saying. - -“I heard of you in a place or two--been on your trail more or less all -day, as it happens.” - -“I presume so. This is my day for calling at the hospital. It struck me -I was on _your_ trail, Doctor.” - -“A sort of vicious circle? If you feel as vicious as I do after it, -you’re ready for anything. What do you say to a camp supper in the -woods to-night--instead of tinned beans?” - -There were two items in this speech which arrested Black’s attention. -He stopped dusting. “What do you know about tinned beans?” he inquired, -suspiciously. - -“Tom has no use for ’em,” was the innocent reply. “Never mind--he -didn’t tell anybody but me. I’ve been having things rather thick myself -lately, and just now--well, I feel like taking to the tall timber. Want -to go with me? The woods are rather nice--on a dry winter night like -this.” - -“You don’t mean it literally--a camp supper?” - -“Good Lord, man, where were you brought up? I thought you were a -country boy?” - -“I am--of the South country--Scotland first--the States second. But I -never went camping in my life. I never had time.” - -“Till this week?” Red’s eyes twinkled enjoyingly. “You can make coffee -by now, I’ll wager. But you can’t touch me at making it. Put on your -collar and come along. I’ll treat you to a new experience, and by the -look of you, you need it. So do I--we’ll clear out together.” - -“I can’t leave Mrs. Hodder without her supper--and I have a committee -meeting at eight. I’m mighty sorry, Doctor----” - -“You needn’t be. I’ll fix the whole thing, and have you back in time -for the bunch. Come--take orders from me, for once.” - -Of course Black never had wanted to do anything in his life as he -wanted to accept this extraordinary and most unprecedented invitation -from the red-headed doctor whom he could not yet call his friend. The -high barriers were down between them, there could be no doubt of that. -Red no longer avoided the minister; he came to church now and then; -the two met here and there with entire friendliness, and had more than -once consulted each other on matters of mutual interest. But Red, -except as he had taken Black into his car when passing him upon the -road, had never directly sought him out on what looked like a basis of -real pleasure in his society. And now, when Red, running upstairs to -see Mrs. Hodder, and coming down to announce that all she wanted for -supper was a little tea and bread and butter, and that it was up to -Black to fix up a tray in a hurry and be ready when he, Red, should -get back--in about fifteen minutes--well, Black was pretty glad to give -in, cast his broom and dust cloth into the kitchen closet, wash his -hands, and put a little water to boil in the bottom of the kettle over -a gas flame turned up so high that it was warranted to have the water -bubbling in a jiffy! - -“Now, you just go along with the doctor and rest up,” commanded Mrs. -Hodder, when the tray appeared. “He told me he was going to take you -out to dinner--and I guess you need it--living on canned stuff, so. He -thinks I can get down to-morrow, and I certainly do hope so. You look -about beat out--and no wonder.” - -With this cordial send-off Black ran downstairs like a boy let out -of school, his weariness already lessening under the stimulus of the -coming adventure. Tired? Just to amuse himself, late last evening, he -had made a list of the things he had done, the people he had seen, -the letters he had written, the telephone calls he had answered--and -all the rest of it. It had been a formidable list. And living on -tinned beans, and crackers and cheese, had not been---- Oh, well--what -did it matter, so he had got his work done, slighted nothing and -nobody--though he could be by no means sure of that! What minister ever -could? - -He dressed as Red had ordered--heavy shoes, sweater under his overcoat, -cap instead of hat--he felt indeed like a boy off on a lark, only -that his busy, self-supporting life had not furnished him with many -comparisons in the way of larks. As he ran down the manse steps he -realized that it was a perfect winter night. There had been little snow -of late; the air was dry and not too cold; the stars were out. And he -was going camping in the woods with Red Pepper Burns--and it was not up -to him to do the cooking! - -The car slid up to the curb, a big basket in the place where Black -was to put his feet; he had to straddle it. There was not too much -time to spare--only a little over two hours. The car leaped away down -the street, and in no time was off over the macadamized road on which -speed could be made. And then, a mile away from that road, with rough -going for that mile--but who cared?--they came to a clump of woods -lying on a hillside, and the two were out and scrambling up it in the -dark, Red evidently following a trail with accuracy, for Black found no -difficulty in keeping up with him. - -Upon the top of the hill was a bare, stony space, sheltered from the -sides but open to the stars. And here, in astonishingly little time, -were made two leaping fires the basis for which had been a small -basket of materials brought in the car, upon which hot foundation the -gathered sticks of the wood had no choice but to burn. Rustling fuel -with energy, Black soon found himself ready to discard his overcoat, -and by the time the thick steak Red was manipulating had reached its -rich perfection, as only that master of camp cookery could make it, -Black was thinking that, big as it was, he could devour the whole of it -himself. - -Coffee--what coffee! Had he ever known the taste of it before, Black -wondered, as he sniffed the delicious fragrance? Red had worked so -swiftly--in entire silence--that the hands of Black’s watch pointed to -a bare seven o’clock when he set his teeth into the first hot, juicy -morsel of meat, feeling like a starved hound who has been fed upon -scraps for a month. - -“Oh, jolly!” he ejaculated. “I never tasted anything so good in my -life. Or was so warm on a winter night--outdoors!” - -“You bet you never tasted anything so good--nor were so warm outdoors. -Why, man, you’ve missed the best fun in life, if this is your first -experience. How does it happen?” - -“I’ve never done anything but work, and my work never took me into -the woods, that’s all. I’ve looked at them longingly many a time, -but--there was always something else to do. What a place this is! Of -all places on earth to come to to-night this seems the best. It’s an -old favourite camping spot of yours?” - -“One of many. This is nearest--I can run to it when I haven’t time to -get farther. Even so--I don’t manage it very often.” - -“I’m sure you don’t!” Black’s eyes, in the firelight, looked across -into Red’s. The moment the cookery was done Red had replenished both -fires, and the two men now sat on two facing logs between them. “Your -time is fuller than that of any man I ever knew,” Black added. - -“Lots of busy men in the world.” - -“I know. But your hours are fuller than their full hours because of -what you do--your profession.” - -“I do only what I have to do. But you--I wonder if you know it, -Black--you’re a spendthrift!” - -“What?” The explosive tone spoke amazement. - -Red nodded. “I’ve been wanting to tell you for some time. Do you know -you probably weigh about fifteen pounds less than you did when you came -here? Keep that up, and you’ll be down to rock bottom.” - -Black laughed. He held up one arm, the hand clenched. “Do you remember -the challenge I gave you last summer, Doctor, to a wrestle, any time -you might take me up? If we weren’t both stuffed, just now, I’d have it -out with you, here and now.” - -“Very likely you could put it all over me--though I’m not so sure of -that.” Red was eyeing his companion with the professional eye still. -“But--go on as you are doing, and a year from now it’ll be different. -You’re wasting nervous energy--and you can’t afford to. It’s as I -say--you’re a spendthrift. What’s the use?” - -“I’m a Scotsman--and that’s equivalent to saying I spend only what’s -necessary. It’s a contradiction in terms----” - -“It is not--excuse me. I’ve been reading about one of your Scottish -regiments over there--cut to pieces--and they knew they were going to -be when they went into it. Call them thrifty--of their lives?” - -“Ah, that’s different. They were glorious. As for that, Doctor--to -right-about-face with my defense--why shouldn’t one be a spendthrift -with his life? You’re one yourself.” - -“Not I. I practice my profession, and mine only. You practice--about -four. Last week I caught you playing nurse to a family of small -children while their mother went shopping.” Red held up a silencing -hand at Black’s laughter. “Yes, I know she hadn’t been out for a month. -That same night you made a speech somewhere--and sat up the rest of the -night with Cary Ray---- Oh, yes--I know he’s improved a lot lately, but -he got restless that night and you stuck by. Next day----” - -“Doctor Burns----” - -“Wait a minute. Next day you----” - -“How do you come to be keeping tab on me?” Black stood up, fire in his -eye. “See here! Last week you did seven operations on patients who -couldn’t afford to pay you a cent--and they weren’t in charity wards, -either. Day before yesterday----” - -But he had to stop, having but fairly begun. Red’s expression said he -wouldn’t stand for it. The two regarded each other in the light of -the fires, and both faces were glowing ruddily. They suggested two -antagonists about to spring. - -“If I’m a spendthrift, so are you!” Black challenged. “Why shouldn’t -we be, at that? Who gets anything out of life--not to mention giving -anything--who isn’t a spendthrift? ‘_He who saveth his life shall lose -it_’--and nobody knows that better than you, Doctor Burns!” - -“But you waste yours, you know,” said Burns, with emphasis. - -“No more than you do.” - -“I do it to save life.” - -“And what do I do it for?” The question came back like a shot, with -stinging emphasis and challenge. - -The two pairs of eyes continued to meet clashingly, and for a minute -neither would give way. Then Red said, with a rather grudging -admission, “I know you think you have to do all these extras, and -you do them with intent and purpose, and willingly, at that. But I -don’t back down on my proposition--that you’re working harder at it -than is necessary. I’ll admit I want you to do what you can for Cary -Ray--for his sister’s sake. But when it comes to the DuBoises, and -the Corrigans, and the Andersons--why should you spend yourself on -them--ungrateful beggars?” - -“I can only ask you, Doctor, why you spend yourself on the Wellands and -the Kalanskys, and the Kellys?” - -Suddenly Red’s attitude changed, with one of those characteristic quick -shifts which made him such delightful company. He looked at his watch -and sat down on the log again. “Six minutes to stay, and then back to -that blamed committee meeting for yours, and back to my office for -me--I can see ten people sitting there now, in my mind’s eye. Hang -it--why can’t a fellow stay in the open when it’s there he can be at -his best, physically and mentally?” - -“It seems to make you a bit pugilistic!” - -Red looked up, laughing. “How about you? For a parson it strikes me you -can fight back with both fists.” - -“Doctor--let’s have that wrestle now! I’d like it to remember.” - -“You would, would you? Hold on--don’t take off your coat. I know better -than to play tricks with my digestion like that, if you don’t. You’re -younger than I--you might get away with it. But--I’ll give you that -tussle some day you’re so anxious for.” - -“Meanwhile--I wish you’d give me something else.” - -“What’s that?” Red was instantly on his guard--Black could see that -clearly. He had expected it. But it did not deter him from saying the -thing he wanted to say. - -“Shake hands with me. Did you know you never have?” - -“Never have!” - -“Not the way I want you to. I’m asking you now to shake hands with my -profession. I’m tired of having you against it. I ask you to give it -fair play in your mind. You admit that it’s worth while for you to -spend the last drop you have for human life. But it’s wasting good -red blood for a man to spend his for human souls. Do you mean it? Ah, -Doctor Burns, you don’t. Tell me so--the way I want you to.” - -The suspicion dropped out of Red’s eyes, but into them came something -else--the showing of a dogged human will. He stood looking into the -fire, his hands in his pockets--where they had been for some time. He -made no motion to withdraw them. Black’s hands were clasped behind -him--he made no motion to extend them. A long silence succeeded--or -long it seemed to Black, at least. Had he lost his case? He had never -thought to state it thus to Red--but when the moment came it had seemed -to him he could do no otherwise.... His heart beat rather heavily.... -How was Red going to take it? - -The red-headed surgeon looked up at last. “Do you mean you want me to -shake hands with your entire profession--all the men in it?” - -“Are there no charlatans in medicine? But _you_--are the real thing. I -wouldn’t deny you a handshake--if you wanted it.” - -Slowly Red drew his right hand out of his pocket. “You want this -tribute--to you, as a minister?” - -Then Black’s eyes flamed. He took a step backward. “I want no -‘tribute,’ Doctor,--my heaven!--you don’t think that! All I want is--to -know that--as a minister you can shake hands with me and believe--that -I’m as real as I know you to be. If you can’t do that----” he turned -aside. “Oh, never mind! I didn’t mean to try to force it from you. -Let’s be off. It must be high time, and it’s more than high time if----” - -A hand fell on his shoulder and stayed there. Another hand found his -and gripped it tight. “Oh, come along. Bob Black!” said a gruff voice -with yet a ring in it. “You’re the realest chap I know. And I’ve -tried my darned best not to like you--and I can’t get away with it. -_Now_--are you satisfied?” - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -“BURN, FIRE, BURN!” - - -“Sis, I’ll stump you to go to church with me this morning!” - -It may have been rather a peculiar form of invitation to attend upon -the service of the sanctuary, but that was not the reason for the -startled expression on Jane Ray’s face. She simply couldn’t believe -that it was her brother Cary who was making the proposal. Church!--when -had Cary ever gone to any church whatever?--unless it might have been -for the purpose of gathering material for some brilliant, ironic -article with which to do his share in that old fight of the world -against the forms of religion. As for herself--it had long been her -custom to employ her Sunday mornings in making up her business accounts -for the week. - -Her reply was a parry. “What church would you suggest going to?” - -Cary’s glance at her was both sharp and whimsical. “Is there more than -one? According to what I hear, the ‘Stone Church,’ as they call it, is -the one where the town is flocking to hear our friend, the fighting -parson, say things that stop the breath. I understand his trustees are -mostly pacifists. It must grind ’em like fun to hear their Scotsman -firing his machine-gun, regardless. I admit I want to be in on it. I -think this country’s going to get into it before long, and when it -does I expect to see Robert Black off like a shot for some place where -pacifists are unpopular.” - -“He has never asked us to come to his church,” Jane temporized. - -“No. That’s why I want to go. I’ve been waiting all this while to have -him ask me, so I could turn him down. But he never has, so, being quite -human, I’m piqued into going on my own motion. Come along, Sis. I’ll -guarantee if an old sinner like me can stand the gaff, a young saint -like you will be in her element.” - -Jane gave him a sparkling smile. “Very well, Cary Ray. It will be your -fault if we feel like fish very much out of water and don’t know how to -act. I haven’t been in a church in at least three years.” - -“The more shame to you. Most of them are mighty comfortable places in -which to sit and pursue your own train of thought, and on that ground -alone you should be a constant attendant. Though I doubt very much if -we are able to pursue any train of thought, within hearing of R. Black, -except the one he chooses to put up to us. The more I’ve seen of him -the more I’ve discovered of his little tendency to keep one occupied -with him exclusively. Well, if you’ll go I’ll have a clean shave and -look up my best gloves. We’ll give him a bit of a surprise. To tell the -truth, I’m beginning to think we owe it to him.” - -There could be small doubt of this. In the three months which had -intervened between Cary Ray’s arrival--for all hope there seemed of -him, both physically and morally down and out--Robert Black had stood -steadily by him. His comradeship had been a direct challenge to Cary’s -better self, and all that was good in the young man--and there was -undoubtedly very much--had rallied to meet the sturdy beckoning of this -new friend. At an early date the two had discovered that, different as -they were in character, they had one thing mightily in common--the -delights and tortures of the creative brain. Jane had called Cary a -genius, and so he was--perhaps in the lesser and more commonly used -meaning of the too much used word. His articles on any theme were -always welcomed in certain of the best newspaper and magazine offices, -and only his lack of dependability and his erratic ways of working had -kept him from rapid advancement in his world. - -Black, discovering almost at once that he had to deal with a brain -which, if it could be freed from the handicap of dissipation, would be -capable of production worth any effort to salvage from the threatened -wreck, had thrown himself, heart and soul, into winning Cary’s -friendship on the ground of their common interest and understanding. -To do this he had used every particle of skill he possessed, and his -reward had been the knowledge of the steadily lengthening periods of -Cary’s reasonableness and his response to the stimulus which will -always be greater than almost any other--the demand of a friend who -cares that we live up to his belief in us. Cary had come to think -of Robert Black as the best friend he had in the world, after his -sister, and to look forward to the hours the two spent together as the -brightest spots in a life which had become dimmed at an age when it -should have known its fullest zest. - -Thus it came about that Robert Black, entering his pulpit that Sunday -morning, and presently taking estimate of his congregation, as a -preacher must do if he is to know how to aim accurately and fire -straight, caught sight of two people whose presence before him gave him -a distinct shock of surprise. He had been sure he would some time get -that shock, but it had been long delayed, and he had rather doggedly -persisted in withholding the direct invitation, reasoning with himself -that he would rather have Jane and Cary come for any other reason than -the paying of the debt he knew they must feel they owed him. - -And now they were there before him--rather near him, too. Young -Perkins, one of the ushers for the middle aisle, had pounced on them -as a pair who would do credit to his natural desire to have all the -best dressed and most distinguished looking strangers placed where they -would do the most good to the personnel of the congregation. He knew -Jane for what he called “a stunner,” thereby paying youthful tribute -to her looks and quiet perfection of dress. As for Cary, one glance of -appraisal had placed him, for Perkins, in the class of the “classy,” -than which there is no greater compliment in the vocabulary of the -Perkinses. Therefore it was that Perkins, leading Jane and Cary down -the middle aisle, had complacently slipped them into the pew of one of -the leading members--to-day out of town, as he knew--and thus had left -them within exceedingly close range of whatever gunfire might be at the -command of the pulpit. Perkins, having hurriedly scanned the headlines -of the morning papers, had a hunch that it was going to be one of those -mornings when the congregation would be likely to leave the church with -its hair a trifle rampant on its brow from excited thrustings--or with -its hats a little askew from agitated noddings or shakings. He had -come to look forward to such Sundays with increasing zest. There was -something else to stake quarters on with the other ushers, these days, -than on how late Doctor Burns was going to be at church, or how short -a time he would be permitted to remain there. Perkins was beginning -to wonder how he had ever endured the dull times of Black’s immediate -predecessor; certainly he was rejoicing that they were over. - -Frances Fitch, in the Lockhart pew, just across the aisle and two -rows behind Jane and Cary, found the pair a particularly interesting -study. Through Tom she had heard much of Cary; she had caught only -unsatisfying glimpses before. As he sat at the end of the pew nearest -the aisle she had a full view of that profile which had first assured -Black that Cary was indeed Jane’s brother, and it now struck Miss -Fitch as one of the most attractive masculine outlines she had ever -seen. Cary was still distinctly pale, but his pallor was becoming -more healthy with each succeeding day of Jane’s skillful feeding, and -his manner had lost its excessive nervousness. To the eye, by now, -he merely looked the interesting convalescent from a possibly severe -illness, with every probability of a complete return to full fitness of -body. As to his mind--one glance at him could hardly help suggesting to -the intelligent observer that here was a young man who possessed brains -trained to the point of acuteness and efficiency in whatever lines they -might be employed. - -To look at either Cary or Jane, moreover, one would hardly have -said that church was to them so unaccustomed a place. Jane, sitting -or rising with the rest, sharing hymn-book or printed leaf of the -responsive service with her brother, appeared the most decorous of -regular communicants. For herself, however, she was experiencing -many curious reactions, the most distinct of which, throughout the -preliminary service, was caused by the sight of Robert McPherson -Black, in his gown, and with the high gravity upon him which she had -never before seen in precisely its present quality. Could this be the -spirited young man who came so often to spend an hour with Cary, his -face and manner full of a winning gayety or of an equally winning -vigour of speech and action? This was another being indeed who -confronted her, a being removed from her as by a great gulf fixed, his -fine eyes by no chance meeting hers, his voice by no means addressed -to her, but to the remotest person in his audience, far back under the -gallery. For the first time Jane Ray was realizing that well as it had -seemed to her that she had come to know the man Black, she actually -knew him hardly at all, for here, in this place to her so unfamiliar, -was his real home! - -And then, very soon came an equally strong reaction from this first -impression of remoteness. For, the moment the anthems and the responses -and the rest of the preliminary service was over, and Black had been -for three minutes upon his feet in his office of preacher, the whole -situation was reversed. No longer did he seem to be sending that -trained and reverent voice of his to every quarter of the large, hushed -audience room; but in a new and arresting way he was addressing Jane -Ray very directly, he was speaking straight to her, and she had quite -forgotten that there was any one else there to hear. If this impression -of hers was precisely like that which reached each person within sound -of his voice who possessed the intelligence to listen, that was nothing -to her--nor to them. The simple fact was that when Robert Black spoke -to an audience as from his very first word he was speaking now, that -audience had no choice but to listen, and it listened as individuals, -with each of whom he was intimately concerned. - -As for Cary Ray--perhaps there was nobody in that whole audience so -well qualified to measure the speaker’s ability and power as he. He had -spent no small portion of his early after-college days in reporting -for a great city daily, and his assignment very often had been the -following up of one noted speaker after another. He had listened to -eloquence of all sorts, spurious and real; had come to be a judge of -quality in human speech in all its ramifications; was by now himself a -literary critic of no inferior sort. His mind, at its best--and it was -not far short of its best on this Sunday morning--was keen and clear. -As he gave himself up to Black as one gives himself up to a friend who -is setting before him a matter of import, he was a hearer of the sort -whom speakers would go far to find. - -Did Black know this? Unquestionably he did. He knew also that Red was -in his audience this morning, and Jane Ray, and Nan Lockhart, and -Fanny Fitch, and many another, and that every last one of them was -listening as almost never before. How could they help but hear, when -he was saying to them that which challenged their attention as he was -challenging it now? - -This was in February, nineteen seventeen. Diplomatic relations with -Germany had been severed; America was on the brink of war. One -tremendous question was engaging the whole country: was it America’s -duty to go into war? Was it her necessity? Was it--and here a few -voices were rising loud and clear--was it not only her necessity and -her duty--was it her privilege? - -No doubt where Robert Black stood. It was America’s privilege, the -acceptance of which had been already too long postponed. In no -uncertain terms he made his conviction clear. The blood baptism which -was purifying the souls of other countries must be ours as well, -or never again could we be clean. To save our souls--to save our -souls--that was his plea! - -“Oh, I wish,” he cried out suddenly toward the end, “I wish I had the -dramatic power to set the thing before you so that you might see it -as you see a convincing play upon a stage. Never a human drama like -this one--and we--are sitting in the boxes! Bathed and clean clothed -and gloved--gloved--we are sitting in the boxes and looking on--and -applauding now and then--as loudly as we may, wearing gloves! And -over there--their hands are torn and bleeding with wounds--while we -delay--and delay--and delay!” - -Down in the pew before him Cary Ray suddenly clenched his fists. His -arms had been folded--_his_ hands were gloved. Gloved hands could -clench then! Into his brain--now afire with Black’s own fire, as it -had been more than once before now as the two talked war together--but -never as now--never as now--there sprang an idea, glowing with life. -His writer’s instinct leaped at it, turned it inside out and back -again, saw it through to its ultimate effort--and never once lost -track of Black’s closing words, or missed a phrase of the brief prayer -that followed, a prayer that seemed to rise visibly from the altar, so -burning were the words of it. Cary rose from his seat, a man illumined -with a purpose. - -Up the aisle he felt Red’s hand upon his arm. Those orders to the -usher not to call the red-headed doctor out for anything but an -emergency had been regularly in force of late. Astonishingly often -was the once absentee now able to make connections with his pew, at -least in time for the sermon. To his friend Macauley, who now and then -let loose jeering comments upon the subject of his change of ways, -he was frank to admit that it did make a difference in the drawing -power of the church whether the man in the pulpit could aim only soft -and futile blows, or whether he could hit straight and fast and hard. -“And whether,” Red added once, bluntly, “you happen to know that he -practises precisely what he preaches.” - -In Cary’s ear Red now said incisively: “What are you betting that -sermon will cost him half his congregation?” - -Cary turned, his dark eyes afire. “If it does, we’ll fill it up with -vagrants like me. My lord, that was hot stuff! And this is the first -time I’ve heard him--more fool I. Why didn’t you let a fellow know?” - -Red laughed rather ruefully. “Cary,” he said, “it’s astonishing how -we do go on entertaining angels unawares. But when we get one with a -flaming sword, like this one, we’re just as liable to cut and run as to -stay by and get our own hands on a hilt somewhere.” - -“I’ve got mine on one, I promise you,” murmured Cary. His one idea now -was to reach home and lay his hand upon it. If, to him, his fountain -pen was the trustiest sword in his arsenal, let none disparage that -mighty weapon. In his hands, if those hands remained steady, it might -in time do some slashing through obstacles. - - * * * * * - -It was just three days later that Jane Ray, coming in from the shop, -saw Cary sling that pen--hurriedly capped for the purpose--clear across -the table, at which for those three days he had been writing almost -steadily. He threw up his arms in a gesture of mingled fatigue and -triumph. - -“Janey,” he said, “I want you to send for Robert Black, and Doctor and -Mrs. Burns, and your friend Miss Lockhart--you told me she wrote plays -at college, didn’t you?--and her friend, Miss Fitch, the raving beauty -who acts--probably acts all the time, but none the worse for that, for -my purpose. Also, Tommy Lockhart. I want ’em all, and I want ’em quick. -I can’t sleep till I’ve had ’em here to listen to what I’ve done. And -now--if I weren’t under your roof, and if I didn’t care such a blamed -lot about not letting Black down--I’d go out and take a drink. Oh, -don’t worry--I won’t--not just yet, anyhow. I’ll go out and take a walk -instead. My head’s on fire and my feet are two chunks from the North -Pole.” - -Happier than she had been for a long time, her hopes for her brother -rising higher than they had yet dared to rise, in spite of all the -encouragement his improvement had given her, Jane made haste to summon -these people whose presence he had demanded. They came on short notice; -even Red, who said at first that he couldn’t make it by any possible -chance, electrified them all and made Cary’s pale cheek glow with -satisfaction when at the last minute he appeared. - -“Confound you, who are you to interfere with my schedule?” Red growled, -as he shook hands. “I was due at a Medical Society Meeting, where I was -booked as leader of a discussion. They’ll discuss the thing to tatters -without me, while I could have rounded ’em up and driven ’em into the -corral with one big discovery that they’re not onto yet.” - -“Mighty sorry, Doctor. But, you see, I had to have you.” Cary grinned -at him impudently. “I’ve been raving crazy for three days and nights, -and if I can’t call in medical aid on the strength of that---- Oh, -I know I’m mighty presumptuous, but--well--listen, and I’ll try to -justify myself.” - -They listened for an hour. They could hardly help it. As a -down-and-outer Cary Ray had been an object of solicitude and sympathy; -as a clever, forceful, intensely yet restrainedly dramatic playwright, -he was a person to astonish and take his new acquaintances off their -feet. Stirred as he had been, gripped by the big idea Black had -unknowingly put into his head, he had gone at this task as he had -time and again gone at a difficult piece of newspaper work. With -every faculty alert, every sense of the dramatic possibilities of the -conception stringing him to a tension, his thoughts thronging, his -language fluid, his whole being had been sharpened into an instrument -which his brain, the master, might command to powerful purpose. Thus -had he written the one-act war play which was to fire the imagination, -enlist the sympathies, capture the hearts of thousands of those who -later saw it put upon the vaudeville circuit, where its influence, -cumulative as the fame of it spread and the press comments grew in -wonder and praise, was accountable for many a patriotic word and act -which otherwise never had been born. - -But now--he was reading it for the first time to this little audience -of chosen people, “trying it out on them,” as the phrase ran in his -own mind. He had no possible doubt of its reception. His own judgment, -trained to pass upon his own performance with as critical a sureness -as upon that of any other man, told him that he had done a remarkable -piece of work. To him it was ancient history that when he could write -as he had written now, with neither let nor hindrance to the full use -of his powers, it followed as the night the day that his editors would -put down the sheets with that grim smile with which they were wont to -accept the best a man could do, nod at him, possibly say: “Great stuff, -Ray,”--and brag about it afterward where he could not hear. - -To-night, when he laid down the last sheet and got up to stroll over -to a shadowy corner and get rid of his own overwrought emotion as best -he might, he understood that the silence which succeeded the reading -was his listeners’ first and deepest tribute to his art. His climax -had been tremendous, led up to by every least word and indicated -action that had gone before, the finished product of a nearly perfect -craftsmanship. Small wonder that for a long minute nobody found voice -to express the moved and shaken condition in which each found himself. - -But when it did come, there was nothing wanting. If they were glad -beyond measure, these people, that they could honestly approve the work -of this brother of Jane’s, this was but a small part of the feeling -which now had its strong hold upon them. Wonder, delight, eagerness to -see the little drama glow like a jewel upon the stage--these were what -brought words to the tongue at length. And then--plans! - -“We can’t get it on too quick,” was Red’s instant decision. “It must -be done here first, and then turned loose on the circuit. We can -handle it. Nan Lockhart can help you get it up, Cary--and take the -part of the Englishwoman, too. Of course Miss Fitch must do the French -actress--she’s cut out for that. I’m inclined to think my wife would -make the best Belgian mother. Tom can be the wounded young poilu, and -you, Ray--will be the French officer to the life. As for the rest--we -have plenty of decidedly clever young actors who will be equal to the -minor parts.” - -There was a general laugh. “I seem to see the footlights turned on -already,” Cary declared. “But that’s not a bad assignment. Would -you--” he turned to Black--“I wonder if you would take the part of the -American surgeon.” - -Now this was a great part, if a small one as to actual lines. Every -eye turned to the minister. Fit the part--with that fine, candid face, -those intent eyes? No doubt that he did. But he shook his head with -decision. - -“I’d do much for you, Ray,” he said, “but not that. It’s not possible -for me to take a part. I’ve a real reason,” as Cary’s lips opened, -“so don’t try to persuade me. But I’ll help in every way I can. And as -for the surgeon--why not take the one at hand?” And he indicated Burns -himself. - -“I’ll _do_ it!” announced Red, most unexpectedly. - -They spent a fascinated hour discussing the characters and who could -do them full justice. There was nobody to see, but if there had been a -disinterested onlooker, he might have said to himself that here was a -group of people who of themselves were playing out a little drama of -their own, each quite unconsciously taking a significant part. There -was R. P. Burns, M.D.--his red head and vigorous personality more or -less dominating the scene. There was Ellen Burns, his wife--dark-eyed, -serene, highly intelligent in the occasional suggestions she made, but -mostly allowing others to talk while she listened with that effect of -deep interest which made her so charming to everyone. There was Nan -Lockhart, quick of wit and eager to bring all her past training to bear -on the situation, her bright smile or her quizzical frown registering -approval or criticism. There was Fanny Fitch, radiant with delight in -the prospects opening before her, her eyes starry, her face repeating -the rose-leaf hues of the scarf she wore within her sumptuous dark cape -of fur--somehow Miss Fitch’s skillful dressing always gave a point of -light and colour for the eye to rest gratifiedly upon. Then there was -Robert Black, rather quiet to-night, but none the less a person to be -decidedly taken into account, as was quite unconsciously proved by the -eyes which turned his way whenever he broke his silence with question -or suggestion. There was Tom Lockhart, somehow reminding one of a -well-trained puppy endeavouring to maintain his dignity while bursting -to make mischief; his impish glance resting on one face after another, -his gay young speech occasionally causing everybody’s gravity to break -down--as when he solemnly declared that unless he himself were allowed -to play some austerely exalted part yet to be written into the play he -would go home and never come back. There was Jane Ray, who sat next -Tom, and who somehow looked to-night as young as he--younger, even, -than Miss Fitch, whose elegance of attire contrasted curiously with -Jane’s plain little dark-blue frock. Jane’s brunette beauty was deeply -enhanced to-night by her warm colour and her brilliant smile; her -sparkling eyes as she watched her brother gave everybody the impression -that she was gloriously happy--as indeed she was. For was not Cary---- - -Cary himself was probably the figure in the room which, if this little -scene had been actually part of a drama, would have become the focus of -the audience’s absorption. Interesting as they were, the other actors -only contributed to his success--he was the centre of the stage. Dark, -lithe, his excitement showing only in his flashing eyes, his manner -cool, controlled--he was the picture of an actor himself. He was keenly -aware that the tables had suddenly been turned, and that from being -a mysterious sort of invalid, Jane’s ne’er-do-well brother, he had -emerged in an hour. He had gathered a wreath of laurels and set it -upon his own brow, and was now challenging them all to say if he had -not a place in the world after all, could not claim it by right of his -amazing ability, could not ask to be forgiven all his sins in view of -his dazzling exhibition of an art nobody had realized he possessed. -Undeniably this was Cary’s hour, and Jane, being only human, and loving -him very much, was daring to believe once again that her brother was -redeemed to her. It may not be wondered at that now and again her -eyes rested gratefully upon the two men who had done this thing for -Cary--and for her. She knew that they must be rejoicing, too. - -It was, therefore, something of a shock to her when from Robert Black, -before they left, she had a low-toned warning. “Miss Ray--” Black had -chosen his opportunity carefully; for the moment the two were well -apart from the rest--“I don’t dare not tell you to look out for him -to-night. After we are gone, and he is alone, there will come an hour -of--well--he will be more vulnerable than he has been for a month. -Don’t let him slip away--see him safely relaxed and asleep.” - -Jane’s expression was incredulous. “Oh, not to-night, when he is so -proud and happy--so glad to have you all his friends, and to show you -at last that he is your equal in--so many ways.” - -He nodded gravely: “Believe me, I know what I’m saying. It’s a bit of -an intoxication in itself, this reaction from his long languor of mind. -He’s done a magnificent thing, and he’s now in very great danger. Don’t -allow yourself to minimize it.” - -“Oh, you’re very good!” Jane’s tone was a little impatient, in spite -of herself. “But you do misjudge him--to-night. Why, he’s just his old -self--as you’ve never known him. Of course, I’ll stay by him--and I -understand. But--his temptation has always been when he was blue and -unhappy, not when he was on the top wave of joy, as he is to-night--as -he deserves to be----” Her voice broke a little, she turned away. -She herself was keyed higher than she knew; she simply couldn’t bear -to have Robert Black, or anybody else, distrust Cary to-night--dear, -wonderful Cary, with his shining eyes and his adorable smile, her -beloved brother and his genius both restored to her. - -Black’s low voice came after her: “I’m sorry--I didn’t mean to hurt -your happiness to-night, of all nights. I only--want you to take care -of him as----” - -But she was off, back to her guests, cutting him short, with only a -nod and half smile back at him, which showed him that she thought him -wrong--and a little cruel, too. - -She was surer than ever that he had been mistaken when they were all -gone, their congratulations on Cary’s work still ringing in her ears. -He threw himself upon the couch with a long laughing breath and a -prolonged stretch of the arms. “Smoke and ashes, but I’m tired!” he -declared. “I’ll stop and chin with you about ten minutes, and then it’s -me for bed.” - -He seemed hardly to listen while she told him how she felt about his -work and the evening, how she knew they all felt. She could see that -he was all at once very sleepy and exhausted, and when, before the ten -minutes were barely up, he rose and stumbled across the room, declaring -that he couldn’t hold out another second, she smiled to herself as she -put her arm on his shoulder and insisted on his good-night kiss. He had -to cut a yawn in two to give it to her. This tired boy in any danger? -Hardly! If he had still been excited and overstrung she might have had -fears for him, but now--why, he would be asleep before he could get his -clothes off--that was what was most likely to happen, after these three -days and nights of consuming labour. She would look in, by and by, and -make sure that, as in his boyish days, he had not thrown himself across -the bed without undressing at all, and gone off into a deep slumber -from which her sisterly ministrations would not wake him. - -She never knew what actually happened that night. She was a long -time herself in making ready for bed, and so busy were her thoughts -that for an hour she quite forgot her resolve to make sure of Cary’s -safety. Then, just to prove that Black was unreasonable in his fears, -she went to Cary’s door, opened it very gently, and saw in the bed his -motionless figure, evidently in as deep a sleep as any one could wish. -She went back to her own room with a curious sense of injury upon her. -Why had the minister tried to alarm her when there was so little need? -Hadn’t she had anxious hours enough? - -Within a quarter of an hour the door of the shop very softly opened, -and Cary Ray let himself out into the silent little street. His -coat-collar was up, his hat pulled over his eyes; he stole away on -noiseless feet. If Jane could have seen then the eyes beneath that -sheltering hat-brim she would have understood. Sleep? They had never -been farther from it, so glitteringly sleepless were they. - -But Robert Black saw those eyes--and he had already understood. As Cary -slipped round the corner he ran straight into a tall figure coming his -way. With a low exclamation of dismay he would have rushed by and away, -but Black wheeled and was at his side, walking with him. - -“Out for a walk, Ray?” said the low, friendly voice he had come to know -so well. “I know how that is--I’ve often done it myself. Nothing like -the crisp night air for taking that boiling blood out of a fellow’s -brain and sending it over his body, where it belongs. May I walk with -you? I’m still abnormally keyed-up myself over that play of yours. No -wonder you can’t settle to sleep.” - -Well, Cary couldn’t get away, and he knew he couldn’t. As well try to -escape an officer’s handcuff if he had been caught stealing as that -kind, inexorable offer of comradeship through his temptation. He -knew Black well enough by now to know that his standing by meant that -he simply wouldn’t let Cary’s temptation have a chance--it might as -well slink away and leave him, for it couldn’t get to him past Robert -Black’s defense. - -Quite possibly neither of these two ever could have told how many miles -they walked that icy winter’s night, but walk they did till every drop -of Cary’s hot blood was rushing healthily through his weary body, and -the fires in his brain had died the death they must inevitably die -under such treatment. They walked in silence for the most part. Cary -wasn’t angry, even at the first--he was ashamed, disappointed--but not -angry. How could he be really angry with a man who loved him enough for -this? And, deep down in his heart, presently he was glad--glad to be -saved from himself. Was it for the man who had written that splendid -play to take it out in the old degradation; was it for him who had made -Truth shine in an embodiment of loveliness to drag its creator in the -mire on this same night that his friends had looked upon his work and -declared that it was good? When at last he stumbled wearily along the -little street again, with a stumbling that was no feigning this time -but the genuine sign of a fatigue so overpowering that sleep was almost -on its heels, he was thankful to this strange and comprehending friend -as he had never been thankful to him before. - -“Good-night, Ray,” said Robert Black, at the shop door, and under the -street-light Cary saw the smile that had come to mean more to him -to-night than it ever had before--and it had meant much already. - -“Do you trust me now?” Cary met the dark eyes straightforwardly at last. - -“Absolutely. I trusted _you_ before. It was the over-strained nerves -and brain I was anxious for, because I’ve had them many a time myself. -They’re hard to manage. Taking them to walk is just good medicine, -that’s all. You’ll sleep like a top, now.” - -“And you’re sure I won’t slide out, when you’re gone?” - -Black’s hand gripped Cary’s. “I’d stake my life on it.” - -Cary choked a little as he returned the grip. “You don’t need to. I’d -prefer to stake mine.” Then he bolted, and the shop door closed behind -him. - -Black looked up at the wide-open window over the shop he knew was -Jane’s. “Sleep well, my friend,” he was thinking. “I told you I’d stand -by you--to the limit.” - - - - -CHAPTER X - -A SHIFTING OF HONOURS - - -Tom Lockhart emerged from the stage dressing-room in the uniform of -a French soldier, his face made up with paint and powder and crayon -to indicate that he was in the final stages of suffering from gunshot -wounds. His head was bandaged, his clothes were torn, but he gave the -lie to these signs of disaster by dashing up the stairs and into the -wings of the stage with the lusty action of perfect health and a great -zest for his part. - -Behind the big curtain he found all the actors in Cary’s play -assembled--except one. The star--everybody had taken to calling Fanny -Fitch the star throughout the rehearsals--was still missing, quite -after the manner of stars. It was yet early, and the audience in front -was but half assembled, but Cary had laid great stress upon everybody’s -being ready and in the wings before the curtain should rise. He had -small faith in amateur call boys and prompters, and the action of the -play was to take place so rapidly that nobody could be permitted to -linger in a dressing-room once the piece was on. - -Cary greeted Tom as a laggard. Cary himself was a French officer--and -looked the part to the life; but he was also a stage manager of -martinet qualities. - -“About time, you boy! Where’s Miss Fitch? Go back and get her. Hustle!” -The whisper hissed above the tuning of the orchestra. - -Tom sped back downstairs. Red Pepper Burns, in the dress of an -operating surgeon soiled and gory, his face made up to show lines of -fatigue, commented in Nan Lockhart’s ear: “Trust Fanny to play the part -off stage as well as on. Presume she’s reckoning on holding everything -up till she gets here?” - -Nan frowned. “You never do her justice, Doctor Burns. Fanny’s a born -actress, why shouldn’t she have the little sins of one? But she’s going -to surprise you to-night. She really can act, you know. She’s been only -walking through rehearsals.” - -“All right--but she’ll have to get a lot more punch into her work than -I can believe her capable of. Speaking of punch--I haven’t much left -myself to-night,” growled Red. The fatigue suggested by the lines upon -his face had been easy to lay on, by the make-up man downstairs, who -had had only to intensify those already there. As might easily have -been prophesied by those who knew his life intimately, Red had just -had a week of infernally hard work in the operating room, and was much -fitter for a good night’s sleep than for playing the part of a first -line surgeon on the French front. - -Robert Black, in the wings, was keeping in order a little group -of children who were representing Belgian orphans--protégés of an -Englishwoman who had come to France to help look after the refugees. -Nan Lockhart had this part; it fitted her beautifully. Jane Ray was -the Red Cross nurse in charge at the clearing station; her white -uniform and glowing red veil brought out her dusky beauty of colouring -strikingly. Three young American ambulance drivers--of whom Harry -Perkins, the young usher at the Stone Church, was one--stood together -in the wings, commenting favourably upon Miss Ray. Altogether, no -body was really doing anything but waiting when Tom Lockhart, grinning -joyously through his queerly contrasting pallid make-up, at last -followed Fanny Fitch upon the stage. - -She had refused to dress for the dress rehearsal of the preceding -evening, explaining that her costume was as yet in the making. She had, -quite as Nan had said, “walked through” her part and rather languidly, -at that, in the street attire in which she had come to the little -theatre which was the suburban town’s pride. So now, quite suddenly -and startlingly, appeared to the view of her fellow actors the French -actress of music-hall fame whom Fanny was to represent in the part -which Cary, the moment he had set eyes upon her--and, he might have -added, found her eyes upon him--had declared would fit her like a -glove. As Red and Ellen and Cary Ray and Robert Black now beheld the -dazzling figure before them, there could be no question in their minds -that if Miss Fitch could act the part as she now looked it, there would -be nothing left to be desired. As for young Tommy Lockhart, he was -clearly quite out of his head with a crazy admiration which he did not -even attempt to disguise. What was the use? And must not all men be one -with him in adoring this radiant creature? - -Fanny was a vision--there’s no use denying it. All that fairness of -feature and provocation of eye enhanced by the cleverest art of the -make-up box, and set off by daring line and colour of gown, could do -to make her wondrous to look upon, had been achieved. All that a deep -excitement, a complete confidence in what her mirror had told her, a -surety of at least a measure of real histrionic power, could give in -aid of the finished effect, was there. But as she came very quietly -upon the stage there was nothing at all in her bearing to indicate -that she thought herself a form of delight, rather did she suggest that -she was dreading her difficult rôle, and not at all confident that she -could hope even to please the eye. Tom, indeed, could have sworn that -this was so. Had he not held a brief but satisfying dialogue with her -on the way upstairs? - -“Oh, Tom!” she had called, “is it really time to go on? I’m so -frightened! Do you suppose I can ever do it as Mr. Ray wants it done?” - -Tom, gazing his eyes out at her lovely shoulders, as she preceded -him along the narrow corridor to the stairs, keeping her scarlet -silken skirts well away from the walls--he helped her solicitously in -that--answered in eager assurance: “Why, of course you can! And--my -word!--looking at you would be enough, if you couldn’t act at all. My -word! I never _saw_ you----” - -“Oh, but Tom, _looking_ a part is nothing--and I’m not even sure I can -do that. But _acting_ it! That’s another story. And you’re so wonderful -in yours----” - -“Me? Why, I just have to die! That’s easy!” - -“But you do it so realistically--you’re absolutely true to life. When I -bend over you--yes, I do feel that you’re actually my brother, and my -heart---- Well, if that can help, you do help me. And I’ll do my best. -But--I’m simply scared to pieces. Feel my hand, it’s freezing!” She -stretched back one bare arm, and Tom willingly caught her hand in his. -His own was so cold it is doubtful if he could have detected chill in -hers, but he held it fast, chafing it in both his own, and murmuring -tenderly: “You’ll be all right, I know you will. Why, you’ll have the -audience from the minute you go on--they can’t get away from you--any -more than I can!” The last was a whisper. - -Fanny turned. They were at the top of the stairway now, with the wings -close at hand. “Tom, tell me! Do you really think I can do it? Will you -just keep thinking about me every minute while you’re lying there?” She -pressed one hand over her heart with a little gesture of fear which -simply finished Tom. “Oh, if it _would_ stop beating so fast----” - -Tom slipped his arm about her shoulders. “Don’t be afraid, dear,” was -what he began to say. But she was away from him in an instant, and he -could only recall with tingling pulses that instant’s touch in which at -least two of his fingers had come into fleeting contact with the satiny -bare arm. The next minute he had rallied and rushed after her upon the -stage, to watch with a jealous pleasure the looks which fell upon her -from all sides. - -At sight of the “star” Cary Ray came forward. All he said was, “I’m -mighty glad you’re here, Miss Fitch. Real actresses never can be -depended upon, you know--and you certainly look temperamental enough -to give your stage manager some trouble!” But his eyes and his smile -said that he was well satisfied with her as a member of his caste, and -that as a girl of his acquaintance he was immensely glad he knew her. -There was promise in Cary’s look as well. All Fanny had to do now was -to play that part as she knew she could play it, and Cary Ray would -fall before her. Going out to take a drink, after the play should be -over--the thing he would naturally want most to do--would pale into -insignificance before the stimulus she could offer him, if she but let -him take her home and come in for an hour’s talk and coffee by the fire. - -But Tom Lockhart and Cary Ray were not the stakes for which Fanny Fitch -meant to play that night. There was a tall figure in the wings of which -she was well aware, and though she did not look toward it she was -very sure that Robert Black was watching her. How, indeed, could he do -anything else? Belgian orphans, ambulance drivers, French officers, -Englishwomen, Red Cross nurses--how could they all be anything but a -background for the lovely “star?” Does not the eye watch the point of -high light in any scene? - -And then they were all in their places. Cary rushed about giving last -warnings, the orchestra music dropped to a low murmur of mystery, and -the curtain rose. Black, with a last word to the waiting children, -slipped out of the wings, down the stairs, up through the orchestra -door, and into a seat held for him by a group of young men who were now -his special friends. It was Cary’s expressed wish that he should see -the play from the front, and then come back, with the falling of the -curtain, to tell the amateur actor-manager how it had gone. - -No need to relate the whole story of the play. It is not with the -stage performance that we are most concerned, but with that other -play, quite out of sight of the audience in the little theatre that -night, which is to us more interesting than the scenes they acted -behind the footlights. The stage play dealt with one of those thrilling -situations with which we have all since then, through printed page and -photograph and drama, become familiar. We know now how those who went -across to help, months--a year--two years--before America came into -the war, felt about us who lagged behind. The young American ambulance -drivers who left their colleges and rushed over because they couldn’t -stand it that we weren’t remembering our debt to France, and who threw -themselves and all they had to give into the breach, angry and proud -and absolutely forgetful of self, just to do their little part--these -had Cary pictured in his play, chafing with impatience because they -couldn’t make all America understand and care. The American girl whose -schooldays had been spent in Paris, who had many friends there, and -who wanted to put aside everything promised her at home and go back to -the country she had learned to love, to nurse the Frenchmen who since -the war began had taught her what true gallantry might be--Cary had -sketched her in his rarest colours, a thing of beauty and of love, her -heart as tender as her spirit was dauntless. - -There was the American surgeon, come over at first because he wanted -to study the methods of the French and English surgeons, but staying -out of sheer pity, and grimly working now to the last limit of his -endurance, unwilling to desert while the need was so great, calling -with every eloquent word he could find time to write back to his -brothers in the profession to come and help him stay the flood of -suffering. Drivers and nurses and doctors--these were the characters -whom Cary had chosen with which to make his appeal to the laggard -nation of us at home. - -The Englishwoman, the Belgian mother with her little starving children, -the French officer, the dying French poilu--these were the foils for -the actress, torn from her stage by a message brought by one of the -American ambulance men to the hospital that her brother was passing. It -was her part to create the scene with which to stir the blood, hers to -cry to the French officer: “Why are the Americans not here to prevent -his dying? Did not our Lafayette and his men go to them at their call? -Does America owe us nothing, then? See, he is only a boy--too young to -die! Could they not have made it impossible?” - -Well, Fanny did it gloriously. All that had gone before led up to her -entrance, her gorgeous fur-lined cloak slipping from her shoulders, -her eyes imploring surgeon and nurses to say that the boy was not yet -gone. When she fell upon her knees beside the cot where lay the limp -figure of the brother she was a figure to draw every eye and thought. -All the colour, all the light of the scene seemed to centre in her, the -bare hospital ward and the people in it turning instantly to a dull -background for her extravagant beauty, her enchanting outlines, her -anguish of spirit, her heroic effort--after that one accusing cry--at -composure. It was impossible not to say that here was amateur acting -of a remarkable and compelling sort. If the pounding heartbeats of the -supposedly dying soldier under his torn uniform might have been taken -as an index of the pulses of the audience, the general average must -have been that of high acceleration under the spell of Cary’s art and -Fanny’s cleverness. - -Could it be called more than cleverness? Robert Black was wondering, as -he watched her from down in front. Of course he watched her, he would -have been hardly human if he had not, or if he had not also come, for -the moment, at least, under her spell. Cleverness or real dramatic -power--it was difficult to judge, as it is always difficult when the -eyes are irresistibly attracted by fascination of face and form. In her -dress Fanny had copied to the life the extravagantly revealing outlines -of a certain daring and popular vaudeville actress. When Nan Lockhart -had suggested that for the conservative American suburb a trifle less -frank a showing might be better taste Fanny had laughed and shrugged -her shoulders, and said she didn’t intend to spoil the part by prudery. -She vowed that Cary Ray was the sort who would be furious with her -if she came to his stage looking like a modest maiden on her day of -graduation from school! “He’s no infant prodigy,” she had added, “he’s -a full-grown man-genius, and I’m going to play up to him. Just watch me -get away with it!” - -She was getting away with it. Even Nan--who had wanted to shake her -from the moment of her first entrance with that effect of being shyly -reluctant to appear at all--had to admit that Fanny had the audience -in the hollow of her pretty hand, not to mention the male portion of -her fellow actors, and, yes, even herself, as well. It was impossible -for Nan not to be fond of Fanny, and to forgive her many of her sins, -because of her personal charm and her originality of speech and action. -Whatever else she was, no doubt but Fanny was always interesting. -Generous Nan was more than glad to have her friend distinguish herself -to-night, and looked on from her own unexacting rôle, with a full pride -in Fanny’s achievement. - -There arrived a moment in the play, however, when to the discerning -there came a sudden shifting of the honours. It was almost at the last, -when the scourging indictment of the French actress had reached its -height. It was then, when the silence following her bitter cry had -continued till it had become painful, that the ambulance drivers and -the surgeon and nurse one by one came forward, till they had surrounded -the weeping Frenchwoman. Then the nurse touched her on the shoulder: - -“Madame,” she said, “see. _We_ are Americans!” - -The actress looked up. The youngest of the drivers was bending a little -toward her--a tall, slim boy, with his left sleeve torn, a long cut -down his cheek. - -“It’s a damned shame!” he said. - -The other drivers clenched their fists, murmuring fierce assent. The -surgeon drew his hand across his tired eyes--one could see that they -were blurred. The nurse, her eyes deep and wonderful with pity, put her -arm about the bare, shaking shoulders: - -“America will come,” she said--and her eyes seemed to look across the -sea. “She _must_ come--and when she does----” - -“Too late--for him!” The actress’s hand pointed accusingly at the still -form on the cot. - -“Yes, too late for him. Too late for much--but not too late for all. -Meanwhile, Madame--_we_ are here--_and we care_!” - -“You bet we do!” It was the youngest driver. - -“Your brother was a peach of a chap,” declared another, and gently the -audience down in front smiled while it wiped its eyes. - -“A peasch?” Fanny’s little puzzled accent was perfect. - -“A hero, Madame--the bravest of the brave,” the nurse explained. - -“Then--I am content!” The gesture was superb. The glittering eyes of -the actress looked out over the audience, then lowered suddenly, to -rest for one instant on Robert Black. It was an error, and a fatal one, -if to nobody but him. Up to that moment she had had him--at that moment -she lost him as an enthralled spectator. The little self-conscious -action broke the spell she had woven. His gaze left her and rested -upon Jane. And there it found--what made him say to himself, suddenly -enraged with his own lack of discrimination: - -“Have I forgotten to watch _you_--in watching _her_? Shame on me! She’s -only acting. You are--_real_!” - -His eyes, through the remaining moments of the play, never again left -Jane. Now that the dazzling light no longer blinded his vision he -could see the beauty which had needed neither over-enhancing make-up -nor ravishing costume to set it forth. In the plain white of the -nurse’s dress, with the nun-like head-veil so trying in its austerity, -her face full of the exquisite compassion which is the hallmark of -the profession, Jane was now for him the central figure. And when the -actress had left the stage, the cot with its still figure had been -removed, and the five Americans had returned for their final scene, -the simple humanness of it somehow “got over,” as the phrase is, so -completely that in its own way it far outshone the splendour of the -tragedy that had preceded it. And this was the sure mark of Cary’s art, -that he had dared to close with this. - -“The thing that gets me”--it was the youngest ambulance driver -again--“is how the devil we’re ever going to make ’em see it back -home--till it’s too late, same as she said.” - -The tired surgeon lifted his head. “I would go home and make some -speeches,” he said, “if I could get away. But if I go--who’ll do my job -here?” - -“It will take ten men,” said the nurse, simply. - -He looked at her, and his grim smile touched his lips. “Twenty nurses -to fill your little shoes,” he retorted. - -“_Little_ shoes?” The second ambulance driver looked down at them. -“They _are_ darned little, but it _would_ take twenty nurses, at that!” - -“America’s _got_ to come!” spoke the third driver--a fair-haired -boy with a fresh, tanned face. “Gee, she’s _got_ to come, or I’ll -turn Frenchman, for one. I can’t stand it any longer. Money and -munitions--and food--that’s what they write--and we ought to be -satisfied. Satisfied! _Men_--why don’t they send _men_? Why don’t they -_come_--millions of ’em! Oh, it’s hell to have to be ashamed of your -own country!” - -“She will come!” It was the nurse. She stood up. Her eyes looked out -again across the seas. “I see her coming.” She stretched out her arms. -Behind her the four men, the tired surgeon and the boyish ambulance -drivers, lifted their heads and stretched out their arms, too. The -girl’s voice rang out: - -“O America!--_Come_--before it is forever too late!” - - * * * * * - -The curtain fell. A murmur came from the audience--the delayed applause -rose, and rose again--then died away. People got up, some triumphant, -some uncertainly smiling, others dark of brow. The young men beside -Black were aflame with the fire of that last challenge; their eyes -looked as if they were seeing new and strange things. When he could -get away from them Black pulled himself together, dived through the -orchestra door and came upon the stage. He went first to Jane Ray. - -“Will you let me take you home when you are ready?” he asked, very low. -“I’ll tell you--then.” - -She nodded and turned away. He had seen her eyes--they plainly showed -that they had been wet with tears. - -He shook hands with Cary Ray, who smiled at him, and spoke rather -deliriously. “We put it over, didn’t we? You don’t have to tell me. -I can read the human countenance. Are you going to start across -to-night--or will morning do?” - -“You gripped us all, Cary. Don’t expect me to talk about it--just yet.” - -“All right--that’s enough. Here’s the girl who did the trick.” And he -put out his hands to Fanny Fitch. - -Only Nan could have told how Fanny had done it, but somehow already -she had managed to get rid of so much of her make-up as was intended -to reach across the footlights, and that which remained was not so -perceptible that it made her look the painted lady. She was a siren -now, was Fanny, and a dangerously happy one. The effect of her had -become that of a radiant girl who enjoys a well-earned triumph, of -which the great masses of orchids and roses she was now carrying were -the fitting sign. - -“You scored a great success,” said Robert Black. He was not afraid now -to look at Fanny at close range; there had been one moment in the play -when he had thought he might well be afraid, realizing acutely that he -was only human, after all, and had no stronger defenses than other men. -His glance met hers coolly. “I congratulate you very heartily.” - -“Oh, I’m glad you liked me,” she answered, and her voice was -thrillingly low. “It means so much to me--to please _you_! I was afraid -I could never do that--your discrimination is so fine. You would -have known if I had not really felt the part. I did--it seemed to me -I simply lived in that French actress’s body. It was a tremendous -experience really. I can never, never forget it.” - -“Wasn’t she glorious?” Cary’s tense voice broke in. He had not moved -away. “I believe I must have written the thing for her without ever -having seen her. But I’ve seen her now!” His fiery gaze devoured her, -his thin cheek flushed more deeply than before. Suddenly Black was -acutely aware of a new source of anxiety for Cary. What would Fanny -Fitch do with him, he wondered. “Listen,” Cary went on hurriedly. “I’m -going to have a bit of a supper over at the hotel--this event has got -to be celebrated somehow. I’ve had Tom telephone over, and they’ll get -a few eats and things together for us in a hurry. Anyhow, we can work -off a little of the high pressure that way--and it’s got to be worked -off, or a maniac like me can’t keep his head till morning. You’ll join -us, of course, Mr. Black?” - -“I’ll go over, and take your sister, but I can’t stay. You won’t need -me--and I haven’t been an actor, so I’m naturally not in on it. Thank -you just the same, Cary.” - -“Sure thing you’re in on it--nobody more so--we won’t let you off. Nail -him for me, will you, Miss Fitch?” and Cary rushed away. - -“Why, it will be no celebration at all without you!” breathed Fanny -Fitch, with a glance which would certainly have turned Tom Lockhart -crazy. Black felt himself proof against it, even though his eyes told -him that it was worth getting if a man had a taste for that sort of -thing. She went on quickly: “You won’t make us--I don’t mind saying you -won’t make me, personally--so unhappy?” - -“I’m sure you won’t be that, Miss Fitch, with all your fellow actors to -tell you how skillful your acting was.” - -“Skillful! Oh, but I don’t like that word!” - -“Why not? All acting means skill, doesn’t it?” - -“But--if you didn’t see more than that in it--I shall be dreadfully -hurt, Mr. Black. I meant to put--my heart into it! It was such a -wonderful play--it deserved no less than that, did it?” - -“No less. And had no less from you all, I think.” - -“Oh, they were all splendid!” agreed Fanny, rallying instantly to this -call. “Miss Ray was perfect, especially. Of course she had the glorious -advantage of the last word--and how effectively she used it! _There_ -was skill for you, indeed. I didn’t know Miss Ray was so clever!” - -“That’s generous of you,” said Black--and if there was only a -half-veiled irony in his tone now, Fanny didn’t recognize it. The -ambulance drivers were hovering close, waiting for their chance. Black -got away at length, and it was with a curious sense of contentment -that he listened to something Mrs. Red Pepper Burns was saying as he -passed her: “Each one took his or her part tellingly, but of course the -honours rest with Miss Ray. She didn’t act, she _was_ that American -girl summoning us all. I can hear that last call yet!” - -“My jolly, so can I!” Red’s lips shut together in a tight line. - -Black now did his best managing. He wasn’t specially good at it, it -being rather a new part for him to play, where women were concerned. -He was much more accustomed to maneuvering to escape a too persistent -encouragement of his society than deliberately to planning to get -somebody to himself. His idea just now was that if he could only take -Jane away before the rest had started for the hotel, a few blocks down -the street, he might secure the short walk with her alone. He had -discovered that it was raining, one of those late March rains which -melt the lingering snow from the streets, the air mild, the suggestion -of coming spring hinting strongly in the very feel of the air. Cary -was announcing that motors would soon be at hand to take everybody--he -wanted them all to remain in costume, just for fun. Black must be quick -now if he would secure the thing he found he wanted very much indeed. - -“Miss Ray, don’t you want to walk instead of ride? I warn you that it’s -raining, but wouldn’t the walk be good for you, after all this heat and -strain?” - -Jane turned to him. She had put on a long belted coat over her white -uniform; she still wore her nurse’s veil-cap. - -“Oh, yes!” she answered, quickly. “It’s just what I want most.” - -“Then come--now, if you can. I’ll tell Tom to explain to your brother. -He’ll forgive us--he’ll forgive anything to-night.” - -They slipped away, and only Red’s quick eye saw them go. He said -nothing to anybody--why should he? He knew Robert Black too well, by -now, not to understand why he felt like getting away, and not to be -entirely in sympathy with his wanting to go with Jane Ray. He felt like -that himself--he didn’t want to go to anybody’s supper party. But he -knew that Cary must be allowed to let down gradually to-night, and he -knew that he was the one to stand by, as he meant to do. Black had done -it far oftener than he. - -Down in the street, with the first touch of the wet, mild air upon her -hot cheek, Jane drew a long, refreshed breath. - -“Oh, that’s so good,” she said. - -“Isn’t it? Somehow I knew it was what you needed after that. Do you -know what you did to us?” - -“I don’t know what I did to anybody,” she said, “except myself.” - -“_I_ know.” - -They walked in silence, after these few words, for a full block. Black -held the umbrella low--it was a large umbrella, and sheltered them both -very well. He had offered Jane his arm--it is difficult for two people -to keep sufficiently close together under an umbrella not to get wet -unless one takes the other’s arm. She had not taken it, but she had -gripped a fold of cloth on the under part of his sleeve, and this held -her securely in place. He could just feel that slightest of contacts, -and it gave him an odd sense of comradeship. - -The silence was grateful to them both, as silence may be between two -people each of whom understands a good deal of what the other is -thinking. When Jane broke it, at the end of the second block, it was -with an unconscious security that she could go on from where she had -left off, without explaining the gap. - -“I’ve got to go,” she said, in a tense voice. “I knew that, when I took -the part, or I couldn’t have dared to take it.” - -“I knew you must be feeling that way. I understand. So am I.” - -She looked up quickly. “Oh! Shall you go?” - -“Of course.” - -“At once?” - -“I am in a sense bound to my church--until my first year here is up, -at least. It will be up in April. If war isn’t declared by that time I -shall go, whether the church is willing to send me or not.” - -“I can’t wait,” said Jane, “till America is in, unless she is in before -I can get away. Cary can’t, either. He is going to try to get a berth -at once, as correspondent for his old paper. He has sent them this -play--it ought to show them that he is--at work again and that--his -brain is clear. He’s physically pretty fit now, I think.” - -“That’s great. And how will you go?” - -“I don’t know yet--I’ll find a way. All I know is, I can’t stand -it another day not to be getting ready. There’ll be some place for -me--there must be.” - -“I don’t question it.” He looked down at that sweet, sturdy profile -outlined now against the many lights of the small downtown park they -were passing. “Yes, they’ll find a place for you. I wish I could be as -sure of the one I want.” - -“You?” Jane looked quickly up at him, and their eyes met. “You want a -commission?” - -“Yes. I want a chaplaincy.” - -“Oh!” Her tone showed deep disappointment. “I knew you were all on fire -about the war, but I did think you----” - -“Would want a bigger job?” - -“Yes!” - -“I don’t know of any,” he said, steadily. - -“How can you feel that way--how can you? A chaplain doesn’t bear -arms--doesn’t go to the front--stays in safe places----” Her fingers -let go of his sleeve, she walked alone. - -“The sort of chaplain I mean,” said Black--with a biting sense of -injury at his heart--“does bear arms. He does go to the front. He never -stays in safe places if he can by any chance get out of them. Will you -please--take that back? I don’t think I can bear it--from you.” - -She looked up at him again, and again he looked down at her. She saw -the pain in his eyes, saw the virility in his lean, strong face, the -way his jaw set and his lips compressed themselves in the line that -speaks determination, and was ashamed--and convinced. - -“I take it back,” she said. “You couldn’t be anything but a fighting -man wherever they put you. I ought to know, by the way you have fought -for my brother. Forgive me.” - -He was silent for a minute. Then he said slowly: “The next time you -come on a list of citations for distinguished bravery, over there, -would you mind reading it carefully? And when you come to a chaplain’s -name, notice what he did to deserve it. That’s all I ask.” - -“I’m sorry,” Jane said softly. “I suppose I don’t know the facts.” - -“I imagine you don’t, Miss Ray.” - -“You’re still angry with me. I can’t blame you.” - -“I’m not angry. But I do care that the splendid fellows over there who -wear the cross on the collar of their tunic should never be spoken of -as if they were looking for safe places. If I can take my place among -them I’ll want no higher honour--and no more dangerous work than they -take upon themselves.” - -Jane’s fingers laid hold of the fold of his coat-sleeve again. She bit -her lip. Then she said gently: - -“I asked to be forgiven. Isn’t it a part of your office to forgive the -repentant?” - -He was staring straight ahead, and this time it was she who looked at a -profile; stern and hard she thought it for a minute. Then the set lips -relaxed, and a deep breath came through them. “I seem to care too much -what you think,” he acknowledged. “It doesn’t matter, I suppose, what -you do think. Never mind.” - -“But I’ve apologized.” - -“You haven’t changed your feeling about it. I’m not looking for a -personal apology. It’s all right. Tell me--when do you think you can -get off?” - -Jane stopped short. The pair were in a side street, and there were no -pedestrians upon it within a considerable distance. “Mr. Robert Black,” -she said, “I’ll not go another foot with you till you are friends with -me again.” - -“Friends with you?” He seemed to consider the question. “Having once -been your friend--how can I ever be anything else--unless you tell me I -can’t be? But even friends can--fail to see.” - -“I don’t fail to see. I see very clearly--quite suddenly. And--if we -are both going over, in the same cause, we must keep on being friends. -I think--” Jane’s voice held a peculiar vibration--“I think, before -I am through with it, I may be very glad to have--a chaplain--for a -friend!” - -Robert Black looked at her steadily for a moment. His lips broke into -a smile; she could see his splendid white teeth between the pleasant -lines. “Ah, you do make full amends!” he admitted. “I--shall we----” -Then he glanced up and down the street. He began to laugh. “Where is -that hotel?” he queried. - -Jane’s eyes scanned the street corners ahead and behind them. “I think -we’ve gone by it,” she said, with mirth. - -“Then--let’s go a little farther by. Do you mind? Mayn’t we go to that -big building down there, before we turn around? It’s not raining so -very hard now. I hate to take leave of you--just yet. It seems a poor -place to stop--when we’ve just got back to--the place we started at.” - -“And what was the place we started at?” She let him take her forward -again. He was walking more and more slowly. It looked as if a good -deal of time might possibly be consumed before they should reach the -designated building and then retrace their steps to the patiently -waiting hotel. - -“The place where we were both going to war. Do you realize what a -meeting ground that is?” - -She nodded. “It is--quite a meeting ground. It seems to----” she -hesitated. He repeated the words with the rising inflection. She shook -her head. - -“I can finish it for you,” he said. “It seems to--set us apart, just -a little--from the rest. At least--till they say they are going, -too. Some of them will say that very soon. Till they do--do you mind -being--in a little clear space--just with me--and with this big thing -ahead to talk about together?” - -It was a minute before Jane answered. When she did, it was in the -frankest, sweet way that she said straightforwardly, “No, I don’t -mind, Mr. Black. I think I--rather like it. You see, you’re not--poor -company!” - -Though they went on from there on that note of frank friendliness, -finished the walk, came finally to the hotel, parted with the simplest -sort of comradely good-night, there could be no question that the bond -between them, till now established wholly on the basis of Black’s -friendship for Cary, had become something which was from Cary quite -apart. Whatever it was, it took Robert Black a good three miles of -walking alone in a rain which had all at once become a downpour to -think it out, and wonder, with a quickening of the pulses, where it -led. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -A LONG APRIL NIGHT - - -“Let a fellow in? Oh--sorry! Did I wake you up?” Black looked up, -dazedly. It struck him that Red didn’t appear particularly sorry, in -spite of his brusque apology. The red-headed doctor stood just within -the minister’s study door, bearing all the appearance of one who comes -on the wings of some consuming enthusiasm. - -Black pushed a number of sheets of closely written paper under a -convenient magazine. He ran his hand across his forehead, thrusting -back dark locks more or less in disarray. His eyes were undeniably -heavy. - -“Come in--do! Have a seat. Let me take your coat.” - -“Thanks. You look in the dumps. Somebody been flaying you alive?” - -Black smiled a little wanly. “No. I rather wish they had. It might give -me something to think about. What is it? You are full of some news--I -can see that. Did you do me the honour of coming to tell me about it?” - -Red laughed. “That’s like you. Anybody else would have left me to -get around to it gradually, if he’d even noticed that I seemed to be -bursting with news. Well, I am. And I had to blow off to somebody right -now. Saw your light and knew you were mulling over some self-appointed -task at this unholy hour. Thought it would probably be good for you to -turn your attention to a fellow-sufferer.” - -Black’s sombre eyes rested intently on Red’s face. Red had thrown his -hat upon one chair, his motoring coat upon another, and had seated -himself astride of a straight and formal manse chair, facing its back. -His face was deeply flushed; his eyes held all manner of excited lights. - -“You’re no sufferer,” was Black’s decision. “What is it? You’re -not--off for the war?” - -“You’ve got it. That’s exactly what I am. Had a cable half an hour ago -from my friend Leaver at the American Hospital at N----. He says come -along as fast as I can get there. He can use me, or have me sent to the -front line, as I prefer. If Jack Leaver says come, that settles it. -I’ll go as quick as I can get my affairs in order, take my physical -tests, have my inoculations, and put through my passports. How’s that?” - -“It’s great. Of course you’ll get to the front as fast as possible--I -know you. I congratulate you--heartily.” Black got up and came over, -his hand out. Red seized it. He hung onto it, looking up into Black’s -face. - -“Come on, too!” he challenged. - -“I wish I could. I can’t--yet.” - -Red dropped the hand--or would have dropped it if it had not been -withdrawn before he had the chance. He scowled. - -“Why not?” - -“Because I can’t get the place I want till war is declared and we begin -to send men. I’ll wait for that.” - -“That means months, even if Congress loses no more time.” - -“You know better. Our regulars will go mighty soon after we declare -war. I’ll find my place with them.” - -“And what’s the place you want?” - -Black looked at him steadily. “You know, don’t you?” - -Red nodded, grimly. “I suppose I do. Tom told me--but I wouldn’t -believe it. Look here, man! Give up that fool notion that you’ve got -to stick to your cloth, and go in for a man’s job. Come over with me -and enlist in one of your Scottish regiments--that’s the place for you. -Then you’ll see the real thing. You’ve got the stuff in you.” - -Black’s face was going slowly white. “I’m an American. When I go I’m -going as chaplain of an American regiment.” - -“Oh, what damned rot!” - -Red Pepper Burns was powerfully overwrought, or he wouldn’t have said -it. The next instant he realized what he had said, for the lithe figure -before him had straightened and stiffened as if Red had brought the -flat of his hand against the other man’s cheek. At the same instant a -voice cold with wrath said with a deadly quiet command in the ring of -it: “Take that back, Doctor Burns.” - -“I take back the word, if you like--but not the thought. I can’t do -that. A chaplaincy isn’t a man’s job--not a young man’s job. Plenty of -old priests and middle-aged parsons to look after the dying. A good -right arm like yours should carry a rifle. I’d rather see you stay -out of it altogether than go in for the army-cut petticoats of your -profession.” - -Then indeed Red saw a strange sight. He had seen many men angry in -his time; he now saw one angrier than he would have believed possible -without an outburst of profanity. Black grew so pale he might have been -going to faint if the glitter in his black eyes hadn’t told the tale -of a vitality which was simply taking it out that way instead of by -showing red, as most men do. He opened his lips once and closed them -again. He raised his right hand and slowly clenched it, looking down -at it, while Red watched him curiously. At last he spoke, in a strange, -low voice, still looking at that right hand of his: - -“I never wanted anything in my life so much as to knock you down--for -that,” he said; and then his eyes went from his clenched fist to look -straight into Red’s. - -“Why don’t you do it? I give you leave. It _was_ an insult--I -admit it--the second one. But I don’t take it back. It’s what I -think--honestly. If you don’t like it, it’s up to you to prove yourself -of a different calibre.” - -Red still sat astride of his chair, watching Black, whose gaze had gone -back to that right hand of his. He opened and closed it again--and once -more, and then he spoke. - -“Doctor Burns,” he said, slowly, “I don’t think I have to take this -sort of thing from you--and I don’t think I will.” He walked over to -his study door, opened it, and stood there waiting, like a figure cut -out of stone. Red leaped to his feet, his own eyes snapping. - -“By jolly!” he shouted, seizing his hat and coat. “I don’t have to be -shown the door twice!” And he strode across the floor. As he came up -to Black the two pairs of eyes met again. Anything sadder than the -look now in Black’s, overriding his anger, Red never had seen. It -almost made him pause--not quite. He went along out and the door closed -quietly behind him. - -In the hall a plump, middle-aged figure was coming toward him. Anxiety -was written large on Mrs. Hodder’s austerely motherly face. He would -have gone by her with a nod, but she put out a hand to stop him, and -spoke in a whisper: - -“I hope, Doctor, you cheered him up a little. Poor man--I never saw him -so down.” - -Red grunted. “No--I’m afraid I didn’t cheer him up much,” he admitted, -gruffly. “He wasn’t in any mood to be cheered.” - -“No, indeed. A body can’t get over such news as he had to-day in a -hurry. He hasn’t eat a mouthful since he heard.” - -“What?” Red paused, in the very act of pushing on past her detaining -hand. “Bad news, you say?” - -“Why, yes--didn’t he tell you? He told me. Two of his sister’s sons -are killed--and she only had three, and all in this awful war. Killed -almost together, they were. He showed me their pictures--the likeliest -looking boys--one looks something like Mr. Black himself. Why, I can’t -think why he didn’t tell you, and him so terrible cut up about it.” - -Red wheeled, and looked back at the closed study door. He looked again -at Mrs. Hodder. “I’m glad you told me,” he said almost under his -breath. “I think I’ll--go back.” - -He went back, pausing a minute at the door before he opened it. Then he -turned the knob softly, as if a very sick patient were lying within. -He went in noiselessly, as doctors do, his eyes upon the figure seated -again at the desk, its head down upon its folded arms. He crossed over -to the desk, and laid his hand on Black’s right arm. - -“I’m sorry, lad,” he said. “I didn’t know.” - -Black raised his head, and now Red’s eyes saw what they had not seen -before--the ravages of a real grief. The red-headed doctor was the -possessor of rather the largest heart known to man, and it was that -heart which now took command of his words and acts. - -“I didn’t know. Black,” Red repeated. - -“How do you know now?” - -“Mrs. Hodder told me. A curse on me for hitting you when you were -down.” - -After a minute Black’s hand reached for the thin sheets of closely -written paper which he had pushed under the magazine when Red had first -entered. He looked them over rapidly, then pointed to a paragraph. Red -scanned it as quickly as the unfamiliar handwriting would permit. As he -read he gave a low ejaculation or two, eloquent of the impression made -upon him. - -“You may be proud of them,” he said, heartily. “And--they were of your -blood. I don’t think I need question its virility. I guess I’d best -leave it to you to decide what’s your course--and not butt in with my -snap judgments.” - -Black looked up. “Thank you, Doctor Burns,” he said, “for coming back.” - -“Forget what I said--will you?” - -“I don’t think I can--right away. It doesn’t matter.” - -“It does matter--when you’re down and out with getting a letter like -that. If I hadn’t been so hot with my own affairs I’d have seen for -myself something’d happened.” - -“It’s all right, Doctor.” Black rose wearily. “Some day I’m going to -make you think differently. Until then--perhaps we’ll do better not to -talk about it. I’m glad you’re going--I envy you. Let’s let it go at -that, for to-night.” - -Red held out his hand. “You’ll shake hands?” - -“Of course.” - -Somehow as he went away Red was feeling sorrier than he would have -believed possible that anything had happened to make that handshake -what he had felt it--a purely formal and perfunctory one. Why had -he said those blamed mean things to Black about his profession, he -wondered. Confound his red head and his impudent tongue! He liked -Robert Black, liked him a lot, and better and better all the time; -trusted him, too--he realized that. He had rushed into the manse study -to-night from a genuine impulse to tell his good news to the man from -whom he was surest of understanding and sympathy with his own riotous -joy over his great luck in getting the chance to go across. And then -he’d had to go and cut the fellow where he was already wide open with -his own private sorrow! If there had been any way in which Red could -have made it up to his friend--yes, Black had become his friend, no -doubt of it, to rather an unanticipated degree--if there had been any -way in which he could have made it up to him, taken the sting out of -the hard words, and sent the “lad” to bed feeling that somebody besides -his housekeeper cared that he was unhappy--well, Red would have given -considerable, as he went away, to have done that thing. But there -wasn’t any way. There hardly ever is. - -If he had known just what he left behind him, in that manse study, -undoubtedly Red would have been sorrier yet--if he could have fully -understood it. It is possible that he could not just have understood, -not having been made of quite the same fibre as the other man. What -he would have understood, if he had chanced to see Black at about the -third watch of the night, would have been that he was passing through -some experience more tremendous than that which any loss of kin could -possibly have brought him. The facts in the case were that, all -unwittingly, Red Pepper Burns, with a few hasty words, had brought upon -Robert Black the darkest hours he thus far had had to live through. - -It tackled him shortly after Red had left--the thought which would not -down--or, rather, the first of the two thoughts, for there were two -with which he had to wrestle that long April night. It leaped at him -suddenly, that first thought, and in an instant, it had him by the -throat. Why not admit that Red was right, that the average chaplaincy -in the army or navy was a soft, safe job, and not an honoured one -at all? Why not let everything else go, resign his church, go back -to Scotland, look up men of influence he knew there, and try for a -commission? Why not? Why not---- _Why not?_ - -Would that mean that he would leave the ministry--permanently? More -than likely it would. Well, what if it did? Could anything be better -worth doing now than offering his life in the Great War? Why stay -here, preaching flaming sentiment to a congregation who mostly thought -him overwrought upon the whole subject? Why stay here, holding futile -committee meetings, arguing ways and means with hard-headed business -men who were everlastingly thinking him visionary and impractical? -Why go on calling on old ladies and sick people--christening -babies--reading funeral services--marrying people who would more than -likely be better single? Why go on with the whole round of parish work, -he, a man of military age, a crack shot--he had not spent all those -years in the South for nothing!--possessed of a strong right arm, a -genius for leadership--when an older man could do all these things for -these people, and release him for work an older man couldn’t do? And if -he were free---- - -Yes, it was here that his second temptation got in its startling work. -If he were free--he would be free to do as other men did: marry a wife -without regard to her peculiar fitness to be--a minister’s wife! It -wouldn’t make any difference, then, if she never went to church, had -no interest in any of the forms of religious life, didn’t read her -Bible--didn’t even say her prayers when she went to bed--didn’t do -anything orthodox--as he was pretty sure somebody he knew didn’t. What -did all that matter, anyhow, so her heart was clean--as he knew it was! - -Black pushed his revolving chair back from his desk so violently that -it nearly tipped over. He began to pace up and down the study floor, -his hands shoved deep into his pockets, a tense frown between his -brows. He walked and walked and walked, getting nowhere in his mental -discussion precisely as he got nowhere in actual distance with all that -marching. And suddenly the similarity between the two processes struck -him, and he rushed into the hall, seized hat and coat, put them on as a -man does who finds himself late for a train, and let himself out into -the April night where the air was heavy with a gathering storm. It was -precisely midnight by the sounding of a distant tower clock as the -manse door closed behind him. - -Do you happen to know, by any analogous experience, just what sort of -a night Robert Black spent, alone with himself? If you do, no need to -describe it to you. If you have never wrestled with a great spiritual -temptation, beating it off again and again only to have it steal up and -grip you more powerfully than before, then you can have no conception -of what that night brought to Black. A concrete temptation--one to -steal or rape or kill--can have no comparison in insidiously disarming -power with one made up of forces which cannot be definitely assigned -to the right side or the wrong. When the thing one wants to do can be -made to seem the right thing, when Satan masks as an angel of light, -and only a faint inner voice tells one insistently that his premises, -his deductions, his conclusions, are every one false, then indeed does -the struggle become a thing of increasing torture, compared with which -physical distress is to be welcomed. - -It was four in the morning when Black let himself into the manse -again, the light in his study seeming to him the only light there -was left in the whole world, and that dim and unilluminating enough. -Outside a heavy storm of wind had disabled the local electric service, -and the streets for the last two hours had been dark as Erebus--and -as Black’s own thoughts. He had been grateful for that darkness for a -time; then suddenly it had oppressed him unbearably and he had fled -back to his home as swiftly as he had left it. There--there, in the -room where he was used to think things out, was the place for him to -come to his decision. - -As he came in at the manse door the lights flashed on again. It was -undeniably warm and bright there in his study, but his heavy heart -took no comfort from this. It was a physical relief to be inside out -of the storm, but the storm in his soul abated not a jot at sight of -the familiar place. The very look of the study table, filled with -matters of one sort or another pertaining to his work--his writing -pad, his loose-leaf notebook, his leather sermon-holder, the row of -books with which he had lately been working and which were therefore -lined up between heavy book-ends for convenience in laying his hand -upon them--somehow the sight of these gave him a sense of their -littleness, their futility, compared with the things he had been seeing -as he walked. A rifle, with a bayonet fixed and gleaming at its end; -a Scottish uniform, with chevrons on the sleeve and insignia on the -shoulder--a worn, soiled uniform at that; men all about, real men, who -did not fuss over trifles nor make too much of anything, men with whom -he could be friend or enemy as he desired--these were what Black saw. -He saw also the two brave lads who had gone to their death, his own -blood, who had been coming over shortly to follow his lead in the big -country where he had found room to breathe, and whose untimely end he -longed personally to avenge. And he saw--Jane Ray, over there, herself -in service, meeting him somewhere, when both had done their part, and -joining her life with his in some further service to mankind, social, -reconstructive, unhampered by the bonds of any religious sect---- - -Oh, well--perhaps you can’t see or feel it--perhaps to you the logical -thing seems the very thing that so called to Robert Black. Why -shouldn’t he listen--why shouldn’t he respond--why wasn’t this the real -thing, the big thing, and why shouldn’t he dare to take it, and give -God thanks that He had released him from too small, too cramped, too -narrow a place of usefulness, into one which was bounded only by the -edges of the great world of need? What was it that held him back--that -so hardly held him back? - -It was a little black-bound book which first began to turn the tide. -It was lying on the study desk, pushed well back under some loose -papers, but it was there all the time, and Black never once lost the -remembrance that it was there. Again and again he wished it were not -there, because he knew through it all that he could never settle the -thing without reference to that little worn book. It was not the Bible, -it was a ritual-book, containing all the forms of service in use in the -Church to which Black belonged; it held, among others, the service for -the ordination of ministers, and that very book had been used in the -ordination of Black himself. As a man fighting to free himself from -his marriage vows might struggle to turn his thoughts away from the -remembrance of the solemn words he had once spoken, so did Black, in -his present mood, strive to forget the very nearness at hand of that -little book. And yet, at last, as he had known he would, he seized and -opened it. After all, were such vows as he had made irrevocable? Many a -man had forsaken them, first and last. Had none of these deserters been -justified? - -Yet, as he went over and over it, that which hit him so heavily was not -the language of the ordination vows which he had been evading and which -now struck him full in his unwilling conscience, gravely binding though -the phrases were. Nor was it that of the closing prayer, well though he -remembered how the words had thrilled him, and had thrilled him ever -since, whenever he read them over: “_Endue him with spiritual grace; -help him perform the vow that he has made; and continuing faithful -unto death may he at length receive the crown of life which the Lord, -the righteous Judge, will give him in that day._” No, it was not these -words which held his reluctant gaze fast at last, but others, which he -had written into the small blank space at the top of the page whereon -the service began. - -Two years before he had had sudden and unexpected word of his mother’s -death on Easter Day--and the approaching Sunday would be Easter again. -On that day, because she had been dear to him, and because he had been -across the seas from her, he had written upon the page a renewal of his -ordination vows. When he had been a little boy she had told him that -some day she wanted him to be a minister of the Scottish Church, the -Free Kirk of Scotland, in which she had been brought up. It had hurt -her that he had wanted to go away to America, and though he had several -times during the succeeding years crossed the ocean to see her, she had -never quite recovered from the disappointment. On a strange impulse, -that Easter Day, two years ago, knowing that he could never in this -world see her face again, he had taken up his pen and written upon the -blank space these words: - - BELOVED MOTHER: - - This is the most precious thing I have in the world. I give it to you - this Easter Day of your entrance into Heaven. These words were used - at my ordination. I have said them over again to-day, because of your - love for me, and my love for you. I shall keep them always. - - ROBERT. - -These, then, were the irrevocable words he could not take back. He -had vowed to his God--he had promised his mother---- How shall a -man take back such words? He had known all along it was unthinkable -that he should, but his fight had been none the less tremendous for -that--perhaps the more, for that. The tighter one feels the bonds that -bind him, the harder is the struggle against them. - -Black fell upon his knees before the old red-cushioned rocker which -still held its place among the more dignified furnishings of the study. -Somehow, it was this chair which was to him his Throne of Grace. He had -not yet given up--it seemed to him he couldn’t give up--but he had come -to this, that he could take the attitude of prayer about it, instead -of striding blindly through the silent streets, his own fierce will -driving him on. And even as he knelt, there came before him with new -and vivid colour, like a fascinating portrait on a screen, the face -of Jane Ray. Thus far, to-night, he had succeeded mostly in keeping -her in the background, at least till he should have decided his great -question. But with her sudden return to the forefront of his mental -images came a new and startling thought: “If you went as she wants you -to go, you might marry her before you went. You might go together. But -as a chaplain--you can only be her friend. Make love to her--wild love, -and take her off her feet! Be human--you’ve every right.” - -At this he fairly leaped to his feet. And then began the very worst -conflict of all, for this last thought was more than flesh and blood -could stand. In his present mood, the exhaustion of the night’s vigil -beginning to tell heavily against his endurance, he was as vulnerable -as mortal could well be. Since the night when he had seen Jane act in -Cary’s play and had taken her for the walk in the rain, her attraction -for him had grown apace. He had not understood quite how it had grown -till Red’s words to-night had set his imagination aflame. The vision of -his going soldiering had somehow kindled in him new fires of earthly -longing, dropping his priesthood out of sight. Now, suddenly, he found -himself all but a lover, of the most human sort, thinking with pulses -leaping of marriage in haste, with the parting which must inevitably -soon follow keying the whole wonderful experience to the highest pitch. -It was the sort of imagining which, once indulged in for a moment, goes -flying past all bounds and barriers, while the breath quickens and the -blood races, and the man is all man, with other plans, other hopes, -other aspirations forgot, in the rush of a desire so overwhelming that -he can take no account of anything else in heaven or earth. - -Small wonder, then, that Black should find he must have it out with -himself all over again, nothing settled, even the little black-bound -book in one mad moment dropped into a drawer and the drawer slammed -shut. Not fair--_not fair_--to have to keep that book in sight! God -Himself knew, He must know, that when He made man he made him full of -passions--for all sorts of splendid things--and perhaps the greatest -of these were war--and love! How should a man be satisfied to be--a -priest? No altar fire could burn brightly enough for him to warm his -cold hands. As for his heart--it seemed to him just then that no -priest’s heart could ever be warm at all! - -Could it not? Even as Black raged up and down his room, his hands -clenched, his jaw hard set, his eyes fell upon a picture in the -shadow--one he knew well. There had been a time when that picture had -been one of his dearest possessions and had hung always above his -desk. When he had come to his new church, and had been setting his new -study in order, Tom had helped him hang his few pictures. It had been -Tom who, glancing critically at this one, and seeing in it nothing to -himself appealing--it was to him a dim and shadowy thing, of little -colour and no significance--had hurriedly placed it over here, in this -unlighted corner. Several times since Black had noted it there, and -had said to himself that it was a shame for the beautiful thing to be -so obscured--he must remove it to a better place and light, because -he really cared much for it. But he had been busy--and careless--he -had not removed it. And now, suddenly, it drew him. He went to it, -took it from the wall, went over to the desk light with it. And then, -as he looked, once again the miracle happened, and the spirit, the -spirit which God Himself has set in every human creature, leaped up and -triumphed over the flesh, and Black’s fight was over--for that time. -Not over forever, perhaps, but over for that time--which was enough. - -Perhaps you know the picture--it is well known and much loved. A great -cathedral nave stretches away into the distance, the altar in the far -background streaming with light, the choir gathered, the service on. -The foreground of the picture is all in shadow, and in the depths -of that shadow kneels one prostrate form in an abandon of anxiety -or grief. Behind it, unseen, stands a wondrous, pitying, strongly -supporting figure with hand outstretched, an aura of light about it, -love and understanding emanating from it. Not with the crowd at the -altar, but with the lonely human creature in the darkness, lingers the -figure of the Lord. The words below are these: “_Lo, I am with you -alway, even unto the end of the world._” - -Robert Black dropped upon his knees once more before the old -red-cushioned chair, but not, now, with will rebellious against a too -hard fate, a too rigorous necessity. The old loyalty, at sight of the -picture which in past days of happy faith had meant so much to him, had -sprung into life again as a flame, quenched but not put out, springs as -the wind fans it. A sob came into his dry throat, his head went down -upon his folded arms. His body relaxed; after a minute he no longer -knelt, he had sunk upon the floor with his face pillowed against the -red cushion in the chair-seat. - -“O my Christ!” he said slowly aloud, “I give up. I couldn’t do it for -God--but I can for You! It was You I promised--I’ll keep it--till the -end! If I go to war, I’ll go to carry--Your Cross! And if You’ll let -me, I’ll carry it to the very front!” - -Mrs. Hodder found him in the morning--though it was morning indeed when -the fight was over. He had been asleep but an hour, there on the floor -by the old red rocker, when she came briskly in to open the windows and -give the manse study its usual early dusting and setting to rights. At -sight of the desk light still burning dully in the pale daylight she -looked astonished, and a moment later, as she espied the figure on the -floor by the chair, she started, frightened. Trembling she called the -minister’s name, stooping over him; but seeing at once the warm colour -in his cheek, drew back with an agitated breath of relief. - -“My land!” she murmured, “if the poor dear man ain’t so beat out he’s -went to sleep right here on the floor. I always did know he’d kill -himself if he kept rushin’ around so, tryin’ to be all things to all -men--and all women. Seems like they couldn’t think of enough things to -ask him to do for ’em, besides all the things he thinks of himself. -That bad news he got, too--likely that was what used him up.” - -“Yes,” answered a very sleepy voice, when she had shaken the recumbent -shoulder a little and called his name once or twice, “all right. -Breakfast ready?” - -“Not yet--but ’twill be, in a jiffy. Goodness me, Mr. Black, you -certainly did give me a start! You must have been tired to death, to -sleep all night on the floor, so.” - -Black got stiffly to his feet. “I’m all right. Listen--what’s that?” - -It was an early morning newsboy on the street outside, stridently -calling: “_Extry--extry!----_” What followed was not distinguishable. -Black, overcoming his stiffness of limb in a hurry, got to the outer -door, whistled loudly, and secured a paper. When he came back all -appearance of sleep or weariness had fled from him. - -“We’re in, Mrs. Hodder, we’re in!” he was half shouting, and his tone -thrilled his middle-aged housekeeper. Long afterward she was accustomed -to say, when she told the story: “I knew from that minute where _he’d_ -be. We’d ought all have known it from the beginning, but I was so dumb -I never sensed it till that morning when he come back with the paper, -callin’ out so solemn--and yet so happy-like--‘_We’re in, Mrs. Hodder, -we’re in!_’ says he. I guess he _was_ in! That was a Saturday. And -Sunday--he gave us the sign! My, but I’ll never forget that!” - -The sign! Yes, that was what Black did give. All day Saturday he was -making possible the thing he had long before determined he would -do when the hour came. From mill to shop he went, with orders and -measurements; late on Saturday evening he came out of the Stone Church -alone, locking the door behind him. His face was worn but not unhappy, -and that night he slept like a tired child, his cheek upon his hand, -his heart quiet and steady in his breast. - -Next morning, when the people came into church, every eye turned -startled to one spot. At the right of the pulpit, on the floor just -below, lifted a straight and sturdy standard. From it hung the American -flag, its silken folds motionless in the still air, yet seeming alive -in the glory of its vivid colour. Above it hung the only flag which -held the right to hang above the National emblem--that of the Church -Militant, the pure white pennant with its cross of blue. - -In a brief service Robert Black, his face showing red and white by -turns with a restrained emotion he could not wholly conceal, dedicated -the two flags, and his people had their first glimpse of what it might -mean to him and them before it should all be over and peace again upon -the earth. They couldn’t know that to him the real dedication of the -two flags had taken place the night before, when alone in the church he -had lifted them into place and knelt before them, vowing anew his vow -of allegiance and of service to God and country, a vow never again to -be insecure upon his lips. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -EVERYBODY PLOTS - - -“May I come in?” - -Nan Lockhart hardly paused for permission to enter Fanny’s room, so -accustomed was she to share intimately with her friend most of her -possessions, including rooms. Therefore she followed her knock and -question with her entrance--and paused upon the threshold with a boyish -whistle of surprise not unmixed with derision. - -Fanny turned away from the long mirror with a little laugh. “Well, how -do you like me in it?” she inquired. - -“Oh, you’re stunning, of course,” Nan admitted. “Trying on all the -different forms of war service, to see which is most becoming? You’ll -let that decide it, of course?” - -“Certainly, Miss Cynic! And why not? Shouldn’t a girl make the most of -herself, under all conditions?” - -Fanny had donned a white blouse and skirt, white shoes and stockings, -and had pinned a white towel about her head. She had even gone to -the trouble of cutting out a small red cross and fastening it upon -the front of her head-gear. The towel did not entirely cover her -hair; engaging ringlets showed themselves about her small ears. She -resembled a fascinating young nun except that in her eyes danced a most -unconventional wickedness. - -“This is merely stage play, I suppose?” Nan questioned dryly. “You’ve -no possible thought of offering your services, in towels or out of -them?” - -Fanny Fitch swung herself up to the footboard of her bed, and sat -there, swinging her pretty feet. She smiled at her friend disarmingly; -but Nan did not disarm under the smile. - -“You’re the most distrustful creature I ever knew, Nancy Lockhart. -Don’t you think I could get away with the nursing proposition? Smooth -the fevered brow, and count the throbbing pulse, and charm the -disordered brain back to sanity and calm? Read aloud to----” - -“And wade around in floods of gore, and scrub the floor of the -operating room, and keep on working when your back aches like fury, and -get about four hours’ sleep out of twenty-four? Wear your white uniform -with the ward below fifty degrees--and zero outside? Game, are you, -Fanny?” - -“Bless my soul!--how terribly technical you sound! What do you know -about it all?” - -“More than you do, I’ll wager. I’ve been reading about an American girl -who has been in it for two years already. She ‘_wears the rue--with a -difference_,’ methinks, Fanny.” - -“Oh, well--I’ve got to get in it somehow,” announced the wearer of the -pseudo-uniform frankly. “Because, you know, my friend Robert Black is -going, and I can’t think with serenity of the wide Atlantic rolling -between us. Of course there’s just one way I’d like to go, and maybe -I’ll achieve that yet.” Her eyes sparkled. “Ye gods, but wouldn’t that -be great! What’ll you wager I go--that way?” - -“What way?” - -“As his--well--” Fanny seemed to be enjoying herself intensely--“as -his comrade-at-arms, you know--meaning, of course, his--comrade _in_ -arms. Oh-h!”--she gave the exclamation all the dramatic force it could -hold, drawing it out with an effect of ecstasy--“Think of walking -away with Robert McPherson Black from under the very eyes of his -congregation--and of the demure but intriguing Jane!” And she threw -both arms wide in a gesture of abandon, then clasped them across her -breast, slipped down from the footboard, and fell at Nan’s feet, -looking up at her with beseeching eyes and an utter change of aspect. -“Oh, please, my dearest dear, don’t put any spokes in my wheel! Let -me just imagine I’m doing something to bridge the chasm--the enormous -chasm between us. It’s a frightful thing to be so deeply, darkly, -desperately in love as I am--and then to see your hero absorbed in -plans to take himself away from you, out of your world, with never a -look behind!” - -“Fanny!” - -“Oh, but I’ll _make_ him look behind--I will--I will! I’ll turn those -rapt black eyes of his back to the earth, earthy--or to the United -States, United States-y--and to Fanny Fitch. And--I’ll keep Jane Ray -home if I have to put poison in her food.” - -“Fanny, get up!” Nan reached down and shook her friend’s shoulders. -“What on earth is the matter with you? Have you gone crazy?” - -“I think so.” Fanny buried her head in Nan’s skirts, clasping her arms -about the other’s waist. “Raving crazy. I met Mr. Black on the street -just now. He was rushing along with his wagon hitched to a star, by -the look of him. He didn’t even see me till he all but ran into me. Of -course I had put myself in his way. Then he snatched off his hat, asked -pardon and how I was, all in the same breath--as if I had been one of -his very oldest old ladies--and got away like a catapult. He was going -in the direction of the station, I admit, but that wouldn’t reasonably -have prevented his exchanging a few friendly words with me. Oh, I can -stand anything--anything--but having a man not even see me!” - -“So I should judge, my dear, from past experience,” Nan commented, -grimly. She had put her arms rather reluctantly about Fanny, however; -it was impossible not to see that something, at least, of this -hysteria was caused by real feeling, if amazingly undisguised. She -was quite accustomed to Fanny’s self-revelations, and entirely used -to taking them without seriousness. But in the present instance her -sympathies were supplemented by her understanding of how it might be -quite possible for a girl to lose her head over Robert Black without -his being in the least responsible by personal word or deed. She now -endeavoured to apply a remedy to the situation. - -“Fanny,” she said, “Mr. Black isn’t thinking about anything just now -but war, and how to get across. He has lost those fine young nephews, -whom he expected to have come here when the war was over, and his -mind is full of them. He hasn’t a corner of his attention to give to -women--any woman----” - -“I’ve met him twice in the last week coming out of Jane Ray’s. Of -course Cary was with him one of the times, and Doctor Burns the -other--but that doesn’t mean he hadn’t been confabbing with Jane. -He’s wise as a serpent, but I’m not at all sure he’s harmless as a -dove--he’s much too clever to be seen paying attentions to any of us. -He’s always with some man--you can’t get at him. And when he comes -here he has Tom hanging round him every minute. Of course I know Tommy -wants to keep him away from me--but he appears to want to be kept -away, so I can’t so much as get a chance. If I could---- But--I _will_!” - -Fanny sat back on her heels, wiping away a real tear with the corner of -her towel. - -“Of course you will, if you set out to do it. But--be careful, my dear. -Robert Black can’t be taken by storm.” - -“That’s the one way he can be taken. I might plot and plan forever -to make an impression on him in the ordinary ways--he’s steel proof, -I think, against those. The only way to get his attention is the way -this war has got it--by shot and shell. If I can just somehow be badly -wounded and fall down in his path, he’ll--stoop and pick me up. And if -he once finds me in his arms----” - -“Oh, Fanny, Fanny! For heaven’s sake don’t try to play a game with -him!” Nan spoke sternly. She removed herself by a pace or two from -her friend, and stood aloof, her dark brows drawing together. “I know -you’re a born actress and can assume any part you like. That may be -well enough in ordinary times--though I doubt it--but not in times like -these. Don’t go to war to play the old game of hitting hearts. You’re -not going to war--I know that--but don’t pretend you want to. It isn’t -fair. This thing is one of life or death, and that’s what’s taking -men like Doctor Burns and Mr. Black into it. They’ll have no use for -anybody who doesn’t offer himself, body and soul. That’s what Jane Ray -is doing--but not you, you know. You just want--to marry a man.” - -“Oh, but you’re hard!” Fanny got to her feet, moved over to the window -and stood looking out, the picture of unhappiness. “Jane Ray, indeed! -How does it happen you believe in her so fast? Why isn’t she playing a -game, too?--Of course she is. But because her hair is smooth and dark, -and her manner so sweetly poised, you take her at her own valuation. -She’s clever as Satan, and she’ll put it over, I suppose. But why, -just because I’m of a different type, I must be forever accused of -acting----” - -“My dear--I’m taking _you_ at your own valuation. Haven’t you explained -to me exactly the part you intend to play--getting badly wounded and -falling down in Robert Black’s path----” - -“You’re so intensely literal!” Fanny spoke bitterly. “Heaven knows it -will be no acting if I do get wounded. I’m wounded now--to the heart. -And if I fall down in his path it’ll be because I can’t stand up. Last -Sunday, when he stood there under the colours--who _wouldn’t_ have -wanted him? Why, even you--” she turned to look full at Nan, with her -reddened eyes searching Nan’s grave face--“it wouldn’t take an awful -lot of imagination to put you in the same class with me, in spite of -that wonderful grip you always keep on yourself. Honestly, now, can you -tell me you wouldn’t marry him, if he asked you?” - -Annette Lockhart was not of those who turn scarlet or pale under -cross-examination. Moreover, she was the daughter of Samuel Lockhart -and had from him the ability to keep close hold of her emotions. -She was entirely accustomed to facing down Fanny Fitch when she did -not choose to reveal herself to her. Nevertheless, it may have cost -her the effort of her life to answer neither too vehemently nor too -nonchalantly this highly disconcerting question. - -“You certainly must be a little mad to-day, my dear girl. Just because -you are so hard hit, don’t go to fancying that the woods are full of -the slain. I like Mr. Black very much, but I’m not a case for the -stretcher-bearers--nor likely to be. And just now I’m wanting so much -to go myself, and know I can’t possibly, because Tom will, and Father -and Mother couldn’t face our both going at once.” - -Fanny began suddenly to get out of her white apparel. “I’m going -round to see Jane Ray,” she announced, with one of the characteristic -impulses to whose expression Nan was well used. “It’s best to make -friends with the enemy in this case, I think. And possibly I may meet -Robert Black--coming out or going in under cover of a man friend. In -that case I may receive one casual glance from His Eminence which will -complete my undoing for to-day. That will surely be worth while.” She -laughed unhappily. - -Half an hour afterward she walked into Jane Ray’s shop. Her eyes were -red no longer, her colour was charming, her manner was composed. When -Jane was at liberty Fanny discussed “pie-crust” tables with her, -declaring her intention to present something of the sort to Mrs. -Lockhart. - -“I’ve made such a terribly long visit,” she explained, “and still they -urge me to stay on. Of course it’s wonderful for me--with my mother -so far away. But I shall only stay till I can find out where to offer -myself--if mother will just say I may go. Poor dear, she has such a -horror of war--she may make it difficult for me. Meanwhile--I want to -take every possible step, so I can have every argument to meet her -with. If I could only go with someone--some other girl--she might feel -differently about it.” - -“Yes, I should think that might help it,” Jane agreed. Her dark eyes -met Fanny’s lustrous blue ones across the group of tables they had been -considering. She was very much on her guard now wherever Miss Fitch -was concerned. The problem of the friendship between Nan Lockhart, whom -Jane couldn’t help liking and thoroughly trusting, and Fanny Fitch, -whom she could somehow neither like nor trust, was one which she had as -yet found no means of solving. Also, Cary’s sudden and intense interest -in Fanny had set his sister to studying the girl with new acuteness. -Thus far she seemed to Jane all actress; it was becoming increasingly -difficult not to suspect her constantly of being other than she seemed. - -“And yet we all act, more or less,” Jane said to herself honestly. -“I’m acting this very minute, myself. I’m playing the part of one who -is only politely interested in what she means to do, while I’m really -crazily anxious that she shall not do certain things which involve Cary -and me.” - -“I wonder if you would trust me with any of your own plans,” Fanny -said, engagingly. “I can’t help knowing that you mean to go, and I’m -sure you must have much real knowledge that I’m ignorant of. Is nursing -the only thing a girl can do? You’re not trained for that, are you? -Forgive me--I’m not just curious, you know--I’m tremendously serious.” - -“My plans aren’t fully worked out,” Jane answered. “I have enough -training to go as nurse’s assistant, under the Red Cross.” - -“Oh, have you? How wonderful! Could I get that, do you suppose? -I’m really a terribly quick study--I used to cram any amount of -stuff in the forty-eight hours before an exam, and get away with -it. If I could--oh, Miss Ray--would it be possible--would you be -willing--_could_ you consider letting me go with you?” - -Jane looked into the sea-blue eyes which were looking so appealingly -into her own. “Yes,” she said to herself again, “I can see exactly how -you do it. That look is absolutely irresistible--just angel-sweet and -full of sincerity. I wish I could trust you--I really wish I could. But -somehow--I can’t. Something inside me says that you don’t mean it--you -don’t--you’re not genuine. You’ve some stake you’re playing for--you -don’t care a copper cent about helping over there. How am I going to -deal with you?” - -It’s odd, isn’t it? How do we do it--how do we keep up this double -discussion, one with our lips, the other with our thoughts? Jane and -Fanny went into the matter rather thoroughly, talking with entire -friendliness of manner about possible courses to be followed, sources -of information to be consulted; and all the time the things they both -were thinking ran so far ahead in volume and in direction of the things -they were saying that there could be no comparison between the two. -Both were much too well trained in worldly wisdom to allow the smallest -particle of personal antagonism to show in word or manner, and yet as -the talk proceeded each became more and more aware that there was and -could be no sympathy or openness between them. - -And then Cary came dashing into the shop, and seeing Fanny pounced -upon her and bore her away with him for a walk, vowing he should so -soon be gone he must make the most of every opportunity. Jane looked -after them as they went, wishing heartily that the day would come -quickly when Cary would be off and away. His plans were rapidly taking -shape; his old newspaper, after a searching interview with him and a -series of inquiries directed toward establishing the thoroughness of -his reformation, had made him a sort of probational offer which he had -accepted with mingled glee and resentment. - -“They’ll send me, only with all kinds of conditions attached which I’d -never accept if I weren’t so wild to go. But they’ll see--I’ll show -them. Just let me send back one rattling article from the real front, -and they’ll be wiring to tie me up to the thing for the duration of the -war.” Thus he had exultantly prophesied to his sister, and to Robert -Black, and to Red, and they had agreed that it was certainly up to him. -He had his chance--the chance to retrieve himself completely; they -were all three concernedly eager to see him safely off upon his big -adventure. - -He was so excited about it, so restless, so impatient for the call -which had been virtually promised him for an early date, that they felt -constrained to watch him carefully. Without knowing exactly why, none -of these three friends quite liked to see him often with Fanny Fitch. -Jane herself was unwilling to appeal to Fanny, or to give her even a -vague idea of his past weakness; she now saw them go away together with -an uneasy feeling that she wished it hadn’t happened. - -An hour later Cary telephoned that he wouldn’t be back for dinner; -he would take it in town, he said--he had some equipment to look -up. He might be back late--Jane was not to sit up for him. He said -nothing about Miss Fitch, but Jane’s instant conviction was that -the two were dining together. Probably they would go to the theatre -afterward and come out on a late local. Well, what of it? Fanny was -no schoolgirl to need chaperonage; there was nothing in this program -to disturb anybody. But Jane was disturbed. Suppose--well, suppose -Fanny were the sort of girl who didn’t object to having a cocktail--or -a glass of champagne--or both--at a hotel dinner alone with a man? -What would companionship on that basis do for Cary, just now? She -had no reason to suppose that Miss Fitch was that sort of girl, and -yet--somehow--she felt that the chances were in favour of her being -precisely that sort of girl. Nan Lockhart’s friend--wasn’t that voucher -enough? Still, friends didn’t always know each other as well as they -supposed they did. And Fanny, ever since she had dressed the part of -the French actress with such fidelity to fact, had seemed to Jane an -over-sophisticated young woman who wouldn’t much mind what she did, -so that she drew men’s eyes and thoughts to herself. Excitement--that -was what Fanny wanted, Jane was sure. An excellent chance for it, too, -dining with a brilliant young war-correspondent, himself keyed to high -pitch over his near future. And if the play chanced to be---- - -A certain recollection leaped into Jane’s brain. She went hurriedly to -the back of the shop for the city daily, and scanned a column of play -offerings. Yes, there it was--she remembered seeing it, and Cary’s -laughing reference to it at the breakfast table that morning, coupled -with the statement that he meant to see it. The play was one of the -most noted dramatic successes of the season, its star one famous -for her beauty and sorcery, and not less than infamous for the even -artistically unjustifiable note she never failed to strike, its lines -and scenes the last word in modern daring. A great play for a man and -woman to see together, with wine before and after! And Cary could not -safely so much as touch his lips to a glass of the most innocent of -the stimulants without danger to that appetite of his which was as -yet only scotched, not slain. If anything happened _now_ to wreck his -plans--what confidence in him, what hope of him, could be again revived? - -After all, perhaps Jane was borrowing trouble. The pair might have had -only the walk they went for, Cary afterward taking the train for town -alone. On the impulse--what did it matter whom she offended if she -saved her brother from his great temptation?--she went to the telephone -and called up the Lockhart residence. Was Miss Fitch in? The answer -came back promptly: Miss Fitch was not in. She had not left word when -she would be in, but it was likely that she had gone into town, as she -had spoken of the possibility. - -Jane hung up the receiver with a heavy heart. Perhaps her imagination -was running away with her--she hoped it was. But the conviction grew -upon her that part, if not all, of her supposition was likely to prove -true. Fanny Fitch might be quite above the kind of thing Jane was -imputing to her; it might be that Cary himself, aware of the danger to -his whole future of one false step now, would be too thoroughly on his -guard to take one smallest chance. Hotel lobbies and cafés were always -the meeting places of newspaper men; he might easily be recognized by -some man who knew that he was upon probation; Cary understood this -perfectly; he would take care to run no risk. Would he? - -Jane looked up the train schedule. Then she dressed carefully, locked -the shop, took the earliest train which would get her to town, and -tried to make plans on the way. As to just what she meant to do she -was not clear. If no other way presented she felt that she must get -hold of Fanny herself and warn her of Cary’s susceptibilities and the -consequences of any weakening at this hour of his life. And then what? -Was there that in Fanny to be counted on? - -All the way she was wishing for Robert Black! Just what he could do -she had no idea; that he would somehow find a way she was certain. But -it was small use wishing. The next best thing would be to come upon -Red Pepper Burns, and this seemed not impossible, because he was daily -to be found in this city of which his own town was the suburb; he did -most of his operating at one of its hospitals. What Red might do in the -emergency she could hardly imagine, either--but she was equally sure -that he would cut across all obstacles to force Cary out of possible -danger. - -To what hotel would Cary take Fanny? She could be pretty sure of -this--it was one at the moment highly popular with the sociably -inclined younger element of the city, as well as with the floating -class who pick out a certain pronounced type of hostelry wherever -they may go. Rather more than moderately high prices, excellent food, -superlatively good music, a management astute beyond the average--plus -a general air of prosperity and good fellowship--this makes the place -for the gathering of the clans who love what they call a good time, and -who have in their pockets--for the hour, at least--the money to pay for -it. - -Jane left her train in haste, crossed the big waiting-room with quick -glances to right and left in search of a possible encounter, and at -the outer door ran full upon someone she had not been looking for -but at sight of whom a light of relief leaped into her face. Mrs. -Redfield Pepper Burns stood close beside the door, evidently waiting -for someone. Instantly Jane’s decision was made. She did not know Mrs. -Burns nearly as well as she did the red-headed doctor, but she knew -her quite well enough to take counsel with her, sure that she would -understand and help. - -“Mrs. Burns,”--Jane spoke rapidly and low--“please forgive me for -bothering you with my affairs. I may be borrowing trouble, but I am -anxious about my brother. I think he is dining in town to-night at the -Napoleon, and may be going to a play. He is with Miss Fitch, I believe, -and I’m afraid she doesn’t understand that--just now--he mustn’t -take--any sort of stimulant. Doctor Burns understands--perhaps you do, -too--or will, from my telling you this much. I wish--would it be too -much?--to ask you to stay and have dinner with me at the Napoleon, and -perhaps join Miss Fitch and Cary--or ask them to join us? I can’t think -just what else to do.” - -She had always deeply admired Ellen Burns; now, quite suddenly, she -found herself loving her. One long look from the beautiful black -eyes, one firm pressure from the friendly hand, the sound of the low, -warm-toned voice in her ear, and she knew that she had enlisted a true -friend. - -“My dear--just let me think. I believe we can do even better than -that.” A minute of silence followed, then Mrs. Burns went on: “My -husband and Mr. Black are staying in together, to meet a quite -famous man from abroad. They were to have dinner together first -at----Wait--I’ll not stop to explain--Let me leave a message here, and -then we’ll take a cab and run back up there. I’ve only just left them.” - -In the cab, five minutes later, Mrs. Burns worked out her quickly -conceived idea. - -“We’ll find my husband and Mr. Black, go to dinner at the Napoleon, -and ask your brother and Miss Fitch to join us. Once Red knows the -situation he will find a way to get Mr. Ray off with them to meet the -famous one, and you and I will take Miss Fitch to the play. What is on -to-night?” She drew her lovely brows together. “Not--oh, not that very -unpleasant Russian thing?--Yes? Oh, we’ll find something else--or go -to a charming violin recital I had half intended to stay in for. Don’t -be anxious, Miss Ray, we’ll work it out. And what we can’t think of -Robert Black will--he’s quite wonderfully resourceful.” - -Hours afterward, when, well towards morning, Jane closed her eyes and -tried to sleep, her mind refused to give her anything to look at but -a series of pictures, like scenes in a well-staged play. Certain ones -stood out, and the earliest of these showed Mrs. Burns crossing a quiet -reception room to lay one hand on her husband’s arm, while her eyes -met frankly first his questioning gaze and then that of Robert Black. -Nothing could have been simpler than her reasonable request of them. -Might they change their plans a bit, now that she had found Miss Ray, -and all go over to the Napoleon to dinner, to find Miss Fitch and Mr. -Ray? The hazel eyes of Red Pepper Burns had looked deeply into his -wife’s at this--he saw plainly that she was definitely planning, with -a reason. He was well used to trusting her--he trusted her now. He -nodded. “Of course, dear,” he said. - -Robert Black came to Jane. “I think I understand,” he said quietly. -“We’ll all stand by.” - -They crossed the street together--Red went to interview the head -waiter. Within five minutes the four were being led to a table at -the very back of the room, close beside one of those small recesses, -holding each a table for two, which are among the Napoleon’s most -popular assets. And then Mrs. Burns, looking across into the recess, -had nodded and smiled, and spoken to her husband, and he had promptly -gone across, and invited the pair there to come over and be his guests. - -Cary had turned violently red, and had begun to say stiffly and very -definitely that his order had gone in, and that it would be as well -not to change, thank you, when Robert Black came also into the recess, -bowing in his most dignified manner to Fanny Fitch. Somehow Jane Ray -had not known until that moment quite how much dignity he could assume. -“Ray,” he had said, in the other’s ear, “I imagine you haven’t heard -that Richard Temple is here to-night--on his way back. Couldn’t you -cut everything else and go with me to hear him? There won’t be such a -chance again before we get across. I’m sure Miss Fitch would excuse -you. It’s a smoker, arranged in a hurry. Nobody knew he was coming.” - -Well, that made all the difference. Call it luck, call it what you -will, that the great war-correspondent, the greatest of them all up to -that time, a man whom Cary Ray would almost have given his right arm to -meet, was passing through the town that night. It had been another man, -more famous in a different line, an Englishman from a great university, -turned soldier, whom Black and Red had stayed in town to meet. But the -moment Black had discovered Jane’s anxiety and its cause he had leaped -at this solution. The correspondent’s coming was an accident owing to -a train detention--he had arrived unheralded, and the two men had but -just got wind of it. They had been saying, as Mrs. Burns and Jane came -to the hotel, that it was hard to have to choose between two such rich -events, and that they must look in on the smoker when the Englishman -had been heard. But now--Black had all at once but one purpose in the -world--to carry off Cary Ray to that smoker, and to stay beside him -till he was at home again. That Cary would drink no drop while he, -Robert, was beside him, was a thing that could be definitely counted on. - -It is possible that no point of view, in relation to the remainder of -the evening, could be better worth study than that of Fanny Fitch. -Sitting on the foot of Nan Lockhart’s bed at two o’clock that morning, -she gave a dramatic account of what had happened. Nan, sleepy enough -at first, and indignant with Fanny for waking her, found herself wide -awake in no time. - -“The perfectly calm and charming way in which Mrs. Burns simply -switched everything to suit Jane shows plainly what an intriguer that -girl is--precisely as I told you. Oh, yes--Doctor Burns asked us over, -and Robert Black fixed Cary for the war-correspondent affair, and -Jane sat there looking as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. Both -she and Mrs. Burns seemed merely lovely, innocent creatures intent on -distributing good to everybody! But those men never would have thought -of taking Cary away from me if they hadn’t been put up to it; men never -conceive that sort of thing by themselves. That dinner--oh, how I hated -it! _Will_ you tell me why Cary Ray had to be pried loose from me, as -if I were some kind of vampire of the movie variety----” - -“But really, Fanny, Richard Temple _is_ the one man in the world Cary -Ray ought not to miss hearing and meeting just now. It would mean such -a lot to him. And if he was only there that one evening----” - -“Oh, I’ll admit that! But to hear Richard Temple Cary Ray didn’t have -to be moved over to the Burns table and put in a high chair and have -a bib tied round his neck! He was furious himself when the change was -proposed; then of course he went delirious at hearing that the Temple -man was in town, and forgot his fury. He had to cancel part of his -order--worse luck; Mrs. Burns is the sort who wouldn’t stand for iced -tea if it was served in a champagne glass!” - -“Fanny! You don’t mean----Why, surely you’ve been told about Cary Ray. -You wouldn’t let him----” - -“Good gracious, can’t the man stand alone by this time? He’s going -overseas--has he got to have a nurse along? What’s having one little -glass at a dinner with a girl like me compared with the things men -order when they’re alone together? He’d better stay home if he -isn’t----” - -“Yes, but--just now, when he’s on trial, and he might so easily be held -back! And besides, Fanny--you’re not--you ought not----” - -“Oh, don’t preach! Haven’t I been a very model of propriety? And am -I not going to keep right on being one, as long as there’s the least -chance of--getting what I want? You needn’t grudge me one little jolly -evening with a boy like Cary Ray, who comes nearer understanding the -sort of fire and flame I’m made of----” - -Nan Lockhart lay back upon her pillow. “Fanny,” she said despairingly, -“the best thing you can do is to go to bed. When you begin to talk -about your temperament you make me want to give you a cold plunge and a -rub-down, and tie an ice-cap on your head. You’ve probably been saved -from helping Cary Ray make a fool of himself at a time when he can’t -afford to be a fool, and you’d better be thankful. How you can imagine -that a thing like that would help you to find a place in Robert Black’s -good graces----” - -“Oh, it’s gentle Jane who’s ace-high with him just now, of course!” -Fanny pulled the hairpins out of her hair with vicious twitches, -letting the whole gleaming fair mass fall upon the white silk of the -luxurious little garment in which she had enveloped herself before -coming to Nan’s room. “He’s the sort who was born to rescue the fallen, -and serve the anxious and troubled. He acted like a regular knight to -Jane--not that he said much to her, but one could see. He was very nice -to me--too nice. I’d much prefer the Jane-brand of his chivalry--sort -of an I’ll-stand-in-front-of-you-and-take-the-blows effect. And when -he went off with Cary and Doctor Burns, and I was left with those two -women creatures----” - -“My dear, I can’t let you keep speaking of Mrs. Burns that way. She’s -one of the finest, sweetest----” - -“She’s a peach!” said Fanny, unexpectedly. “I admit I’ve nothing -against Mrs. Burns except that she took me to a dismal violin recital -when I’d awfully wanted to see a perfectly ripping play Cary had -tickets for.” - -“Not----” - -Fanny nodded. “Of course--why not, Miss Prudy? I didn’t mind that so -much, though. The thing I minded was Jane Ray’s sleekness. She makes me -think of one of those silky black cats with yellow eyes----” - -But here Nan Lockhart sat up in bed, fire in her own steel-gray eyes. -“Fanny Fitch, that’s enough!” she said, with low distinctness. “Jane -Ray is my friend.” - -“I thought _I_ was! This is so sudden!” And quite unexpectedly, even -to herself, Fanny Fitch began to cry, with long, sobbing breaths. Nan -slipped out of bed, pulled on a loose gown hanging over its foot, and -laid hold of Fanny. - -“Come!” she commanded, firmly. “I’m going to put you to bed and give -Nature a chance to restore those absurd nerves of yours. You don’t want -Cary Ray, you can’t have Robert Black, and you might just as well give -in and take that perfectly good lover of yours who has been faithful to -you all these years. He adores you enough to put up with the very worst -of you, and he ought to be rewarded with the best of you. You know -absolutely that you’d be the most miserable girl in the world married -to a man of Mr. Black’s type----” - -Fanny drew a deep sigh, her head on Nan’s long-suffering shoulder. - -“It’ll not be my fault if I don’t have a try at that sort of misery,” -she moaned. “And I’ll do it yet, see if I don’t! I know a way!--Oh, -yes! I know a way! Wait and see!” - -Nan Lockhart saw her finally composed for sleep, her fair head looking -like a captivating cameo against her pillow, her white arms meekly -crossed upon her breast. Fanny looked up at her friend, her face once -more serene. - -“Don’t I look good enough now for just anybody?” she murmured. - -“You look like a young stained-glass angel,” Nan replied, grimly. -“But--since you were so unjust as to compare Jane Ray to a silky -_black_ cat I’ll tell you that just now you make me think of----” - -“I know--a sleepy white one--with a saucer of cream near by. -Good-night--saint! I don’t deserve you, but--I love you just the same. -And I dare you to tell me you don’t love me!” - -“I’ll take no dares of yours to-night. Go to sleep--and please let me, -even if you don’t.” And Nan went away and closed the door. - -Back in her own room, when she was once more lying alone in the dark, -Nan said to herself, with a sigh deeper than any Fanny Fitch had ever -drawn in all her gay young life: “What a queer thing it is to be able -to wear one’s heart on one’s sleeve like that--and not even mind much -when the daws peck at it!” - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -A GREAT GASH - - -“Confound you--pay some attention to me, will you? Do you _get_ what -I’m saying? Everything’s in train. I’ve only to take my physical -examination--papers came this morning, by the way--and get my -passports, and I’m off. For the love of heaven, what’s the matter with -you, Max Buller? Sitting there looking like a mollusc--like a barnacle -glued to a rock--and me having transports all over the place! Don’t you -know a magnificently happy man when you see one--and can’t you----” - -Red’s manner suddenly changed, as Dr. Maxwell Buller looked up at him -with an expression of mingled pain and protest. Red’s voice softened, -his smiling lips grew sober. - -“I beg your pardon, Max, old man,” he said. “You’re in trouble, and I’m -a blind ass--as usual. What’s the matter? The Throckmorton case gone -wrong, after all? Or worse things befallen? Come--out with it!” - -Buller got up. He was Burns’ best friend in the profession--the two had -stood together since the earliest days of medical school and hospital -training. Buller was not a brilliant member of the healing fraternity, -but a steady-going, conscientious, doggedly energetic practitioner on -whose sturdy friendship through all the thick and thin of the regular -grind Burns was accustomed to rely. Never a crisis in the professional -affairs of either man but he called with confidence upon the bed-rock -reliability of the other to see him through. - -On this particular morning, Red, bursting with the latest developments -in the arrangements he was pushing through in order to be able to -get away and join Dr. John Leaver at an American hospital in France, -had rushed into Buller’s office considerably before office hours. -He had shouted his plans into the other’s ears--so to speak--though -technically he had not much raised his voice above its customary low -professional pitch. The whole effect of him, none the less, had been -that of a boy roaring at a comrade across several fences that he had -been given a holiday and was off for glorious sport. And here was his -trusty comrade-in-arms glowering gloomily back at him and as good as -saying that he grudged him his luck and hoped he’d have the worst -possible time of it. That wasn’t a bit like Buller--good old Buller, -who hadn’t a selfish hair on his head, and knew no such thing as -professional jealousy where R. P. Burns was concerned. What in the name -of time was the matter with him? - -“I’d no idea,” said Buller, at last, and hesitating strangely, “the -thing had gone so far. I knew you thought of going, but----” - -“But what? Haven’t I been talking going for the last year and a half? -And didn’t I call you up the other day when I got Jack Leaver’s cable -and tell you I meant to put it through post-haste? Didn’t I----” - -“Yes, you’ve told me all about it. You’ll remember that I’ve said a -good deal about the need for you right here, and my hope that you’d -delay going a while yet. I think I said----” - -“I don’t know what _you_ said,” Red broke in impatiently, interrupting -Buller’s slower speech in a way to which the other was well used. -“I was much too busy talking myself to notice what any idiot might -be saying on lines like those. Good Lord! man, you _knew_ I’d go the -minute I got the chance. Why, I’m needed over there about sixteen -thousand times more than I am here----” - -Buller shook his head, his unhappy eyes on the worn rug of his office -floor. The shake of that head inflamed Red into wild speech, his fist -clenched and brought down on Buller’s desk till bottles jumped and -papers flew off into space. Then, suddenly, he brought himself up short. - -“All right,” he growled. “I’ve blown off. Now--explain yourself, if you -can--which I doubt. But I can at least give you the chance.” - -Buller cleared his throat. He ran his hand through the rapidly graying -locks above his anxious brow, sat down at his desk again--as though it -might be a little easier to say what he had to say in this customary -seat of the judge delivering sentence--and looked unwillingly up at his -friend. Red had moved up and closed in on him as he sat down, towering -over the desk like a defiant prisoner. - -“Get it over,” he commanded briefly. - -“I’ll try to, Red, but--it’s hard to know how to begin.... You--suppose -you let me go over you, will you?--as a sort of preliminary to the -examination the Government surgeons will give you.” - -“What for? Do you think I can’t pass? Is _that_ what’s bothering you?” -A relieved laugh came with the words. “Me?” He smote his broad chest -with all the confidence in the world--and Buller winced at the gesture. -“Why, I’m strong as an ox.” - -Buller opened a drawer and took out a stethoscope. “Well--you won’t -mind----” he said, apologetically, and came around the desk as a man -might who had to put a pistol to the head of a beloved dog, and was -dreading the sound of the shot. - -“All right. But it’s about the foolest thing I ever knew you to put up -to me.” Red pulled off his coat, stripped rapidly to the waist, and -presented himself for the inquisition. - -Two minutes of absolute silence succeeded during which Buller swallowed -twice as if he were trying to get rid of his own palate. Then he stood -up with his hand on Red’s shoulder. - -“I’m--awfully sorry, lad,” he said--and looked it, in a fashion the -other could not doubt. - -“What do you mean?” - -“Do you--remember that little trouble you had two years ago?” - -“The--infection?” - -“Yes. It’s left its mark.” - -“What do you _mean_!” - -“You’re all right for good solid hard work--here. But you aren’t -quite in condition to meet the--requirements of the Service. You--you -couldn’t get by, Red.” - -Buller turned away, his chunky, square-fingered hand slightly unsteady -as he put away the little tell-tale apparatus which had registered the -hardest fact with which he had ever had to confront a patient--and -a friend. There was a full minute’s silence behind him, while he -deliberately kept his back turned, unwilling to witness the first -coming to grips with the totally unsuspected revelation. Then: - -“Do you mean to say my heart isn’t all right?” came in a queer, -indignant tone which Buller knew meant only one thing: that Red minded -nothing at all about his physical condition except as it was bound to -affect the course upon which he had set out. - -“Not--exactly.” - -“Oh, quit treating me like a scared patient. I know you _think_ you -heard----” - -“I did hear it, Red. There’s no possible doubt. It’s unquestionably the -result of the infection of two years ago. We all knew it then. I knew -I’d find it now. That’s why----” - -“I see. That’s why you’ve been advising me not to go. My place was -here--_knitting_!” - -Buller was silent. His broad, kind face worked a little as the big -figure crossed the room to the window. He could look up now--Red’s back -was toward him. - -“Doesn’t the amount of work I stand up under, every earthly day and -night, show that in spite of your blamed old dissection I could do -a good job over there before I cash in--which, of course, may be -indefinitely postponed? Nobody knows better than you that a fellow can -go on working like a fiend for years with the rottenest sort of heart, -and never even suspect himself that there’s a thing wrong----” - -“I know.” Buller’s voice was gentle as a woman’s. “But--first you’ve -got to pass the stiffest sort of Government tests, Red--and----” - -“_And I can’t, eh?_” - -It was done--Max Buller’s job. He didn’t have to answer that last -question--which was no question, as he well knew. There was finality -in Red’s own voice; he had accepted the fact. He knew too well the -uselessness of doubting Buller’s judgment--the other man was too well -qualified professionally for that. Red knew, also, as well as if he -had been told in plain language, precisely what his own condition must -be. Out of the race he was--that was all there was to it. Still fit to -carry heavy burdens, capable of sustaining the old routine under the -old terms, but unfit to take his place among the new runners on the -new track, where the prize was to be greater than any he had ever won. -And his splendid body, at that very minute, seemingly as perfect as it -had ever been; every function, as far as he himself could be aware, in -the smoothest running order! He could not even be more than usually -conscious of the beat of his own heart, so apparently undisturbed it -was by this intolerable news; while his spirit, his unquenched spirit, -was giving him the hardest tussle of his life. - -Buller was wrong--he _must_ be wrong! He was “hearing things” that -didn’t exist. Red wheeled about, the inconsistent accusation on his -lips. It died at sight of his friend. Buller was slouched down in his -swivel-chair, his chin on his breast, his head propped on his hand. -Quite clearly Buller was taking this thing as hard--vicariously--as Red -himself--as Buller usually took things that affected Red adversely. Oh, -yes--the old boy knew--he couldn’t be fooled on a diagnosis like that. -Red turned back to the window. It was all over--there was no possible -appeal.... - -He went away almost immediately, and quite silently. There had been no -torrent of speech since the blow actually went home. The red-headed -surgeon with Celtic blood in his veins could be quiet enough when there -was no use saying anything, as there certainly wasn’t now. - - * * * * * - -Two days later Robert Black, hurrying down the street, traveling -bag in hand, passed the office of Redfield Pepper Burns just as the -doctor’s car drew up at the curb. Black turned, halted, and came up to -the car. Red was sitting still in it, waiting for him, the unstopped -motor throbbing quietly. Black hadn’t seen him for several days, but -the last he knew Red had been deep in his preparation for an early -departure. It was on Black’s lips to say, “How’s everything coming -on?”--knowing that no other subject had any interest for Red compared -with that. But Red spoke first. - -“You’ve got to know sooner or later,” he said, in his gruffest tone, -“so you might as well know now. I’m not going over. That’s all. Can’t -stop to talk about it.” And he set hand to gear-shift, and with a nod -was off again, leaving Black standing looking after him, feeling as if -something had hit him between the eyes. - -As he walked on, after a moment, his mind was busy with the impressions -it had received in that brief encounter. Red’s face had been set and -stern; it was often that when he was worn with work over more than -usually hard cases. His eyes had looked straight at Black with his -customary unevasive gaze, but--there had been something strange in that -look. He was unhappy--desperately unhappy, there could be no doubt -about that. What could have happened so suddenly to put a spoke in the -rapidly turning wheels of his plans? Black fell to puzzling over it, -himself growing every moment more disturbed. He cared tremendously -what happened to Red; he found himself caring more and more with each -succeeding thought about it. - -He was on his way to the station, to take a train for a distant city, -where was to be held a reunion of his seminary class in the old halls -of their training. He had been looking forward to it for weeks, in -expectation of meeting certain classmates whom he had not seen for -six years, and some of whom he might never meet again. He had been -exchanging letter after letter with them about it, and anticipating -the event with the ardour with which most men look forward to such -reunions at that period in life. There was nothing to do but go, of -course; though by now he was longing intensely to follow up Red, by -some means, and find out what was the matter. He hadn’t liked the look -in those hazel eyes, usually so full of spirit and purpose; the more he -thought about it the surer he grew that Red was at some crisis in his -life, and that he needed something he hadn’t got to help him face it. -Of course he must be horribly disappointed not to be going across, oh, -desperately disappointed! But there was more than that in the situation -to make him look like that, Black was sure of it. - -His feet continued to move toward the station, his eyes lifting to -the clock upon its tower, which warned him that he must lose no time. -He had his ticket and a sleeper reservation--it was fifteen hours’ -journey back to the old ivy-covered halls which had grown dearer in -his memory with each succeeding year of his absence. He was thinking -that he couldn’t disappoint Evans, his best friend, or Desboro, his -old college chum who was going to China on the next ship that sailed; -such appointments were sacred--the men would never quite forgive him -if he threw them over. But this he could do: he could go on for the -dinner which was to take place the following evening, and then catch -a late train back, cutting the rest of the program, and reaching home -again after only forty-eight hours’ interval; he had expected to be -absent at least five days. No, he couldn’t, either. Desboro was on for -an address, that second evening, for which he had expressed particular -hope that Black would remain. Desboro was a sensitive chap and he was -going to China. Well--what---- - -His train had been called; those determined feet of his took him -toward it, though his mind was now slowing them perceptibly. And then, -suddenly, his will took charge of the matter--his will, and his love. -He loved Red Pepper Burns--he knew it now, if he had not fully known it -before; loved him even better than he did Desboro, or Evans, or any of -the rest of them for whom he had cared so much in the old days. And Red -was in trouble. Could he leave him to go on to hear Desboro’s speech, -or wring Evans’ hand, or even to hear a certain one of his adored old -professors say: “I’m especially glad to see you, Black--I want to hear -all about you----” a probability he had been happily visualizing as -worth the trip, though he should get nothing more out of it. - -He turned about face with determination, his decision made. What was -a class reunion, with all its pleasures--and its disappointments, -too--compared with standing by a friend who needed him? The -consciousness that Red was quite as likely to repel as to welcome -him--more likely, at that--lent no hesitation to his steps. He went -back to the ticket windows, succeeded in getting his money returned, -and retraced his steps to the manse even more rapidly than he had -come away from it. It was only as he let himself in at the door that -he remembered that his little vacation was Mrs. Hodder’s as well, and -that at his insistence she had left early that morning. He grinned -rather ruefully at this thought; so it was to be burned toast and -tinned beans again, instead of banquet food! Well, when a fellow was -making sacrifices for a friend, let him make them and not permit the -thought of a little lost food to make him hesitate. Banquets--and -beans--interesting alliteration! And now--to find out about Red without -loss of time. - -Ten minutes later he was in Red’s home, standing, hat in hand, before -Mrs. Burns, who had come to him without delay. - -“I saw your husband just a minute this morning, and he told me it was -all off with his going to France. That’s all he said--except that he -had no time to talk about it. Of course I understood that he didn’t -want _me_ to talk about it. But something in his looks made me a -little anxious. I thought you wouldn’t mind my coming to you. If you -don’t want to tell me anything more, Mrs. Burns, that’s all right. But -I wanted you to know that if anything has happened to make him--or -you--unhappy, I care very much. And I wish I could help.” - -Ellen Burns looked up into his face, and saw there all that one could -wish to see in a friend’s face when one is in trouble. She answered as -frankly as he had spoken, and he couldn’t help seeing that his coming -was a relief to her. - -“I’m going to tell you, Mr. Black,” she said. She remained standing; -Black thought it might be because she was too ill at ease in mind -to think of sitting down. “I am anxious about Red, too, because he -doesn’t seem at all himself, since this happened. Two days ago his -good friend Doctor Buller told him there was no chance of his passing -the physical tests necessary for getting across, on account of trouble -with his heart--which he hadn’t even suspected. He was very ill with -blood poisoning two years ago. The disappointment has been even greater -than I could have imagined it would be; he has never set his heart on -anything as he has on this chance to be of service in France. Of course -I am disappointed, too--I meant to follow him soon, when we could -arrange it. And--it goes without saying--that the reason which keeps -him is a good deal of a blow to me.” - -“Yes--of course.” - -She was speaking very quietly, and with entire control of voice and -manner, and the sympathetic understanding in his tone did not undermine -her, because there was no weakness in it. - -“But--we have accepted it; there’s nothing else to do. Doctor Buller -says it doesn’t mean that Red can’t go on working as hard as ever, for -a long time--here. But that doesn’t help him any, just yet. He has -been in--a mood--so dark ever since he knew, that even I can’t seem to -lighten it. And just before you came I found--this. It--does make me -anxious, Mr. Black, because I don’t quite know----” - -She put her hand into a fold of her dress and brought out a leaf from -the daily memorandum pad with a large sized date at the top, which was -accustomed to lie on Red’s desk. He was in the habit of leaving upon -it, each time he went out, a list of calls, or a statement regarding -his whereabouts, that his office nurse or his wife might have no -difficulty in finding him in case of need. In the present instance -the page was well covered with the morning and afternoon lists of his -regular rounds, including an early morning operation at the hospital. -But the latest entry was of a different character. At the very -bottom of the sheet, in the only space left, was scrawled the usual -preliminary phrase, followed by a long and heavy dash, so that the -effect of the whole was inevitably suggestive of a reckless mood: “Gone -to ----” - -Black studied this for some seconds before he lifted his eyes. “It may -mean nothing at all,” he said, as quietly as Mrs. Burns had spoken, -“except the reflection of his unhappiness. I can’t think it could -mean anything else. Just the same”--and now he looked at the lovely -face before him, to see in it that he might offer to do anything at -all which could mean help for Red--“I think I’d like to find him for -you--and I will. I’m sure I can, even though you don’t know where he -has gone. Can you guess at all where it might be?” - -“He had the car,” she said, considering, “and he’s very -apt, when things have gone wrong, to get off out of doors -somewhere--alone--though he’s quite as likely to work off his trouble -by driving at a furious pace over miles and miles of road. I’ve known -him to jump out of the car and dash off into the woods, in some place -I’d never seen before, and come back all out of breath and laughing, -and say he’d left it all behind. I think, perhaps, that’s what he’s -doing now. I hope he’ll come back laughing this time, though I--I can’t -help wishing he’d taken me with him.” - -“I wish he had.” Black thought he had never seen a woman take a thing -like this with so much sense and courage. How could Red have left her -behind, he wondered, just now, when she could do so much for him? -Or--couldn’t she? Could any woman, no matter how finely understanding, -do for him quite what another man could--a man who would know better -than any woman just what it must mean to have the foundations suddenly -knocked out from under him like that? “But,” he went on quickly, “I -don’t think it will be difficult to find him because--there’s a way. -And I’m going now, to try it. Don’t be worried. I have a strong feeling -that your husband is coming out of this a bigger man even than when it -hit him--he’s that sort of man.” He was silent an instant, and then -went on: “And he won’t do anything God doesn’t mean him to do--because -he isn’t _that_ sort of man. He’s not afraid of death--but he isn’t -afraid of life, either. Good-bye--it’s going to be all right.” - -They smiled at each other, heartened, both, by the thought of action. -Black got away at once. It was, by now, well after six o’clock. He had -had no dinner, but it didn’t occur to him to look out for food before -he started on the long walk he meant to take. For, somehow, he was -suddenly quite sure he knew where to go.... - - * * * * * - -He had guessed right. Was it a guess? As he had walked at his best -speed out of the town and over the highway toward the road upon which -Red had taken him that winter night, months ago, he had been saying -over and over, “Don’t let me be wrong, Lord--you know I’ve _got_ to -find him!” He was remembering something Red had said when he first -led him up the trail and out upon the rocky little plateau: “This -is a place I’ve never brought anybody to--not even my wife, as it -happens--and probably wouldn’t be bringing you if we had time to go -farther. I come here sometimes--to thrash things out, or get rid of my -ugly temper. The place is littered with my chips.” - -He recalled answering, “All right, Doctor. I won’t be looking for the -chips.” But he had thoroughly appreciated being brought to the spot -at all, recognizing it for one of those intimate places in a man’s -experience which he keeps very much to himself. Where, now, would Red -be so likely to go if he had something still to “thrash out,” after the -two days of storm following the shock of Doctor Buller’s revelation? - -At the bottom of the hill, well-hidden in a thicket of trees, Black -came upon the car--and suddenly slowed his pace. He was close upon Red, -then, and about to thrust himself in where he was pretty sure not to -be wanted--at first. He meant to make himself wanted, if he knew how. -Did he know how? Ah, that was where he must have help. It was going -to take more than human wisdom, thus to try to deal with the sore -heart, the baffled spirit, of the man who couldn’t have his own way at -what doubtless seemed to him the greatest moment of his life. Black -stopped short, close to a great oak, and put up his arm against it, -and hid his face in his arm, and asked God mightily that in this hour -He would use His servant’s personality as He would use a tool in His -workshop, and show him how to come as close and touch as gently--and -withal as healingly--as it might be possible for human personality to -do when backed and reinforced by the Divine. A pretty big request? -Yes, but the need was big. And Black didn’t put it in any such exalted -phrasing--remember that. What he said was just this: “Please let me -help. I _must_ help, for he needs me--and I don’t know how. But You -do--and You can show me.” - -Then, after a minute, he went on, springing up the trail, which was -plain enough now, even in the fading daylight, to be easily followed. -As he reached the top he came in sight of Red through the trees, and -stopped short, not so much to regain his breath as because the sight of -the man he had come to find made his heart turn over in sympathy, and -for that instant he couldn’t go on. - -Yet Red was in no dramatic attitude of despair. To the casual eye he -would have looked as normal as man could look. He sat upon a log--one -of two, facing each other, with a pile of blackened sticks and ashes -between, reminiscent of past campfires. There had been no fire there -recently--no spark lingered to tell the tale of warmth and light and -comradeship that may be found in a fire. And what Red was doing was -merely whittling a stick. Surely no tragedy was here, or fear of -one.... The thing that told the tale, though, unmistakably, to Black’s -sharpened eyes, was this: that the ground was littered deep, all -about Red’s feet, with the fresh whittlings of many sticks. “Chips,” -indeed! Chips out of his very life, Black knew they were; hewed away -ruthlessly, with no regard as to what was left behind in the cutting, -or what was made thereof. - -He could not stand and look on, unobserved, of course. So he came on, -striding ahead; and when Red at last looked up it was to see Black -advancing confidently, as a friend comes to join a friend. Red stared -across the space; his eyes looked dazed, and a little bloodshot. - -“I’ve come,” said Black, simply, “because, Red, I thought you needed -me. Maybe you don’t want me, but I think you need me, and I’m hoping -you won’t send me away. I don’t think I’ll go if you do.” - -Red’s odd, almost unseeing gaze returned to the stick in his hand. He -cut away two or three more big chunks from it, leaving it an unsightly -remnant; then flung it away, to join the other jagged remnants upon the -ground. - -“Yes,” he said, in a hoarse voice quite unlike his own, “I guess maybe -I do.” - -Black’s heart leaped. He had not expected a reception like this. To -be kicked out--metaphorically--or to be ungraciously permitted to -remain--that was the best he could have hoped for. He sat down upon the -other log, took off his hat and ran his hand through the locks on his -moist brow; he was both warm and tired, but he was not in the least -conscious of either fact. All he knew or cared for was that he had -found his man--and had his chance at last! And now that he had it--the -chance he had so long wanted, to make this man he loved his friend -forever--he was not thinking of that part of his wish at all. He had -got beyond that; all he wanted now was to see him through his trouble, -though it might make him less his friend than ever. - -The two sat in silence for a minute. Then Red spoke. With an odd twist -of the mouth he pointed to an axe lying at the foot of a tree not far -away. Above it, in the trunk, showed a great fresh gash, the beginning -of a skilled woodsman’s work upon a tree which he means to fell. - -“I began to chop down that tree,” he said, in the same queer, hoarse -voice. “That’s what I’ve always done--when the pressure got too -high. Then--I remembered. If I chopped it down, I might--end things. -There’s no telling. Buller says my machinery’s got past the chopping -point--it’s time to take to whittling. So--I’m whittling--as you see.” - -“I see,” said Black. He spoke cheerfully--there was no pity in his -voice. In his eyes--but Red was not looking at those. - -“That’s why,” went on Red, after a minute, “I’m not going to France. -They don’t need whittlers over there.” - -“Do you think you’re a whittler?” - -“What else?” - -“You don’t look much like one--to me.” - -“Don’t say that to me!” challenged Red, with a touch of the old -fire. “There’s no cure for my hurt in the thought that I can keep on -working--over here--until the machinery breaks down entirely--which -may not be for a good while yet. I want what I want--and I can’t have -it. What I can have’s no good compared with that. It may look good to -you--it doesn’t to me. That’s all there is of it.” - -“You don’t look like a whittler to me,” Black repeated, sturdily. “You -look like a tree chopper. I can’t--and won’t--think of you any other -way.... I wish you’d put up that knife!” - -Red stared at him. “Make you nervous?” he questioned. - -“It makes _you_ nervous. Put it up. Play with the axe, if you like; -that’s more in character.” - -The two looked each other in the eye for a minute. The clear gaze of -Black met the bloodshot one of Red. - -“Here--I’ll get it for you,” offered Black, and got up and went over -and picked up the axe, its blade shining, its edge keen as one of Red’s -instruments. Black ran his fingers cautiously along it. “I suppose -no surgeon ever owned a dull axe,” he commented, as he brought it to -Red. “This would cut a hair, I think. Take it--and put up the knife to -please me, will you?” - -“Anything to oblige.” Grimly Red accepted the axe, snapped the knife -shut and dropped it into his pocket. “Anything else? Going to preach to -me now with the axe for a text?” - -“I think so. I’m glad you’re ready. But the axe won’t do for a -text--nor even for an illustration. I’ve got that here.” He put his -hand to his pocket and drew out a little, worn, leather-bound Book, -over which he looked with a keen, fearless gaze at Red. “See here,” -he said. “I could try a lot of applied psychology leading up to this -little Book--and you’d recognize, all the way, that that was what I -was doing. What’s the use? When you go to see a patient, and know by -the look of him and the few things he tells you what’s the matter, you -don’t lead up by degrees to giving him the medicine he needs, do you? -Not you! You write your prescription on the spot, and say ‘Take this.’ -And he takes it and gets well.” - -“Or dies--if I’m out of luck. It isn’t the medicine that decides it, -either way. It’s his own power of resistance. So your simile’s no good.” - -Black nodded. This sounded to him somewhat more like the old Red. -“Yours is, then,” he said. “It’s your power of resistance I’m calling -on. You used it just now--when you stopped chopping at that tree. Do -you think I don’t know--you wanted to keep on, and take the possible -consequences--which you almost hoped--or thought you hoped--would be -the probable ones?” - -And now Red’s startled eyes met his. “My God!” he ejaculated, and got -to his feet quickly, dropping the axe. He strode away among the trees -for a minute, then came slowly back. - -“Do you think, Bob Black,” he demanded, “you dare tackle a case like -mine? I see you know what I’m up against. Do you imagine there’s -anything in that Book there that--fits my case?” And Black saw that -his eyes looked hungrily at the little Book--as men’s eyes have looked -since it was given shape. When there is nowhere else to go for wisdom, -even the most unwonted hands open the Book--and find there what they -honestly seek. - -“I know there is.” Black opened the Book--it fell open easily, as one -much used. He looked along its pages, as one familiar with every line. -It took but a moment to find the words he sought. In a clear, quiet -voice he read the great, brave words of Paul the apostle: - - “Know ye not that they which run in a race run all, but one receiveth - the prize? So run, that ye may obtain. - - And every man that striveth for the mastery is temperate in all - things. Now they do it to obtain a corruptible crown; but we an - incorruptible. - - I therefore so run, not as uncertainly; so fight I, not as one that - beateth the air: - - But I keep under my body, and bring it into subjection, lest that - by any means, when I have preached to others, I myself should be a - castaway.” - -A long silence followed the reading of these words. Suddenly it had -seemed to Robert Black that nothing he could say could possibly add -to the splendid challenge of them to a flagging human spirit. Almost -immediately upon reading the last word he had walked away--he had risen -to read them, as if such words could be said only by a man upon his -feet. He was gone for perhaps ten minutes, and all the while his heart -was back there by the ashes of the dead campfire with Red--fighting -alone, as a man must fight, no matter how his friend would help him. -Somehow Black was sure that he _was_ fighting--it was not in Red--it -couldn’t be--to lay down his arms. Or, if he had in this one black hour -laid them down, it would be to take them up again--it _must_ be so. All -Black’s own dogged will, plus his love and his faith in God and in this -man, were back there in the woods with Red. - -By and by he went back himself. Red was no longer sitting on the -log, he was standing by a tree, at the edge of the plateau, looking -off through a narrow vista at the blue hills in the distance all but -veiled now in the dimness of the coming night. At the sound of Black’s -footsteps on the snapping twigs he turned. - -“Well, lad,” he said, in a weary voice which was yet quite his own, -“I guess you’ve won out over my particular personal devil this time. -I _have_ ‘preached to others’--I expect I’ve got to stand by my own -preaching now. It’s all right. I’d got too used to having my own -way--or forcing it--that’s all. I’ll try to take my medicine like a -man. I’ve been taking it--like a coward. Now--we’ll say no more about -it.” - -“Not another word. Except--would you mind if I built a little fire, and -burned up those chips?” - -“I wish you would.” - -With quick motions Black made a heap of them on the old campfire ashes, -touched them off with the match Red silently handed him--he had matches -of his own, but he took Red’s--and stood looking down into the curling -flames. The chips burned as merrily and brilliantly as if they had not -been the signs of human despair, and the two men watched till the small -fire had burned down to a last orange glow of embers. - -Then Black, taking off his hat, said in a way so simple that the -listening ears could not want to be stopped from the sound of the -words: “Please, Lord, help us to run, ‘_not uncertainly_,’ nor fight, -as those that ‘_beat the air_.’ Give us faith and courage for the long -way--and bring us to the end of the course, by and by--but not till we -have ‘_run a good race_’--all the way. Amen.” - -Still silently, after that, the two went down the trail, now in deep -shadow. Red went first, to lead the way, and Black noted with joy that -he plunged along down the trail with much his old vigour of step. At -almost the bottom he suddenly halted and turned: - -“See here, Bob Black,” he said, accusingly. “I thought you were on your -way to the station when I saw you this morning. Weren’t you off for -those doings at your old Alma Mater you’ve been counting on?” - -“I changed my mind.” - -“What! After you saw me?” - -“Of course.” - -There was an instant’s stunned silence on the red-headed doctor’s part, -broken by Black’s laugh. - -“One would think you never gave up a play or a good dinner or almost -anything you’d wanted, to go and set a broken leg--or to reduce a -dislocated shoulder before breakfast!” - -But when Red finally spoke the hoarseness was back in his voice--only -it seemed to be a different sort of hoarseness: - -“What did you do it for?” - -“I think you know. Because I wanted to stand by you.” - -Red turned again, and began to go on down the trail. But at the bottom -he once more stopped short. - -“Lad,” he said, with some diffidence, “there’s a story in that Book of -yours--the other part of it--that always interested me, only I didn’t -think there were many examples of that sort of standing by in present -days. I begin to think there may be one or two.” - -“Which story is that?” Black asked, eagerly--though he concealed the -eagerness. - -“That--I’ll have to leave you to guess!” said the other man--and said -not another word all the way home. He sent the car at its swiftest -pace along the road, took Black to his own door, held his hand for an -instant in a hard grip, said “Good-night!” in his very gruffest tone, -and left him. - -But Black had guessed. And he had won his friend--for good and all, -now--he was sure of that. How could it be otherwise? - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -SOMETHING TO REMEMBER - - - MY DEAR ROBERT BLACK:-- - - Where do you suppose your letter reached me, telling me of your - rapidly maturing plans to go to France? At a place not fifty miles - away from you, where I have taken a small seaside cottage for the - summer! Yes, I did it deliberately, hoping it might mean that I - should see you often--for I have missed you more than I quite venture - to tell you. And now--I am not to see you after all, for you are to - be off at almost any time. My disappointment is as great as my pride - in you--and my joy that you are responding to this greatest need of - our time. I know you will fully understand this seeming paradox. - - Since I have no son to send--and you no mother to send you--and - since, as you well know, you have come to seem more like a son to me - than I could have thought possible after the loss of my own--won’t - you spend at least a day with me--right away, lest your summons to - join your regiment arrive sooner than you expect? Please wire or - telephone me--as soon as you receive this, won’t you?--that you are - coming. I have my faithful Sarah with me, so you are assured of - certain good things to eat for which I recall your fondness. But I am - very sure that I do not have to bribe you to do this kind thing for - an old woman who cares for you very much. I know that Scotch heart of - yours--cool enough on the outside to deceive the very elect, but warm - within with a great friendliness for all who need you. - - With the belief that a long talk together will do away with the need - for a further exchange of letters just now, I am, as always, - - Faithfully and affectionately yours, - - MARIE L’ARMAND DEVOE. - -Sitting on the edge of his study desk Black had eagerly read this -letter, written in a firm hand full of character, not at all indicative -of its being the penmanship of “an old woman.” His face had lighted -with pleasure, and he had laid the letter down only to turn to consult -his schedule of work for the week. This was Monday, the only day he was -accustomed to try to keep free for himself--usually with small success, -it must be acknowledged. But at least there was no engagement for the -evening, and it was the only evening of the week of which that could be -said. - -During the next half-hour he did some telephoning, held a brief -interview with Mrs. Hodder, wrote a short letter, then was off for his -train. He had decided to take a local into the city earlier than was -necessary to make his connection, in order that he might be safely -away before anything happened to detain him. This would give him an -hour to spare there before he could get the second train, which would -bring him within walking distance of the little seaside village and his -friend’s new summer home. He would call her up from the city; he had -not yet had time to do it. He was glad of the extra hour in which to -draw breath and congratulate himself that this Monday was to be a real -day of rest. He was obliged to admit to himself that it would taste -rather good. What with preaching and parish work doggedly kept up to -the customary standard, while he had been at the same time deep in the -involved details of securing his chance to go overseas--which now was -practically assured--he was feeling just a trifle played out on this -warm July morning. - -Turning a corner just before he reached the station, he came suddenly -upon Jane Ray. Though her answering smile was bright enough, he thought -he saw in her face a reflection of the weariness of which he himself -was momently more conscious. The heat for several weeks now had been -unusually trying. Jane had been quite as busy as Black himself with the -arranging to dispose of her business preparatory to going abroad. She, -too, had found--or made--her chance. It looked as if she might get off -before any of them--except Cary, who was due to go now at any time. - -Black stopped short, in the shade of a great elm. - -“I haven’t seen you for two weeks,” he said. “That ought to be excuse -enough for stopping you now? I suppose you know I’ve been around -twice--only to find the shop locked, and the bell apparently out of -commission, for it produced nobody.” - -“I’m sorry,” protested Jane. “I found your card both times. If I hadn’t -been so busy----” - -“I know.” He looked searchingly down into her face, and it seemed to -him it certainly looked a little worn. Perhaps it was the lavender -of the crisp linen dress which sent trying reflections into her -usually warm-tinted cheeks. Perhaps it was the excessive heat, which -incidentally was doing its best to make her smooth hair curl riotously -about her ears in a particularly girlish fashion. “Yes, we’ve both been -busy,” he agreed. “But that doesn’t make two weeks seem any shorter to -me. I’m going out of town for the day, but with your permission I’ll -try that doorbell soon again. All at once, some day, either you or I -will get that call, and then--think of all the things we’ll wish we had -had time to say!” - -“Perhaps! Meanwhile, if you’re catching the 9:30, Mr. Black, let me -warn you that the station clock is two minutes slow. I lost a train by -it only yesterday.” - -Thus she had sent him off, for even as she spoke the whistle of the -approaching local was heard down the line, and Black had only time to -take a hasty leave of her and run to the platform, with no chance to -buy his ticket. - -Standing on the rear platform, as the train went on--the inside of -the car had been unbearably hot--he looked back down the long street -and caught a glimpse of Jane’s lavender linen disappearing in the -distance. He strained his eyes to see it, visualizing clearly the face -into which he had just been looking. It was a face which had a way of -coming before that vision of his many times when he was attempting to -occupy himself with necessary work, and of interfering seriously, now -and then, with his powers of concentration. There was something about -the level lines of Jane’s eyebrows, the curve of her cheek, the shape -of her mouth, which peculiarly haunted the memory, he had found. It was -astonishingly easy, also, to recall the tones of her somewhat unusual -voice, a voice with a ’cello-like low resonance in it; easy to recall -it and easier yet to wish to hear it again. He found himself suffering -from this wish just now, and rather poignantly. - -Whose fault was it that he had not seen Jane for two weeks? Since -she must have known by his two calls that he wanted to see her, why -hadn’t she let him know he might come again? The time was getting -so horribly short--the call for one or other of them might come so -soon. And then what? He was realizing keenly that when the chance of -turning a corner and meeting her, of going to her shop and seeing -her, of calling her upon the wire and hearing her--was gone, perhaps -forever--well--suddenly the thought became insufferable. He must do -something about it, and that at once! He must do it to-day. What could -it be, since he was on his way out of town? - -His thoughts went on rapidly. He made a plan, a daring one--rejected -it as too daring--decided that it wasn’t half daring enough! What was -the use of never doing anything because there might be some possible -and remote reason why it wasn’t best? This infinite and everlasting -caution suddenly irked him--as it had many times before in his -experience--irked him till it became unbearable. He would carry out -his plan--his end of it. If Jane wouldn’t carry out her end---- Well, -anyhow he would put it up to her. Thank heaven, he had that hour to -spare; it made possible the thing he had in mind. - -The minute his train arrived in the city station he made haste to the -telephone, and shortly had Jane’s shop on the wire, with Sue promising -to call her mistress quickly. Then, he was talking fast, and he feared -less convincingly than he could have wished, for Jane was objecting: - -“Why, Mr. Black--how _can_ I? How could I, in any case? And now, with -so little time! Besides--are you sure you----And your friend--how can -you know she----” - -Yes, this usually poised young business woman was certainly being a -trifle incoherent. No doubt it was an extraordinary invitation she had -received. It was small wonder she was hesitating, as each phase of it -presented itself to her mind. Go with him, unbidden by his hostess, to -spend the day with him at her seaside home? What a wild idea! But his -eager voice broke in on her objections: - -“I’m going to call up Mrs. Devoe right now, and I know as well as when -I get her answer that she will welcome you as heartily as you could -ask. Why, she’s Southern, you know, so any friend of mine---- And -we’ll be back in the early evening. Why shouldn’t you go? I can’t see -a possible reason why not. You wouldn’t hesitate, would you--if it -were any other----” And here he, too, became a victim of unfinished -sentences, his anxiety to put the plan through increasing, after the -fashion of men, with her seeming reluctance to allow him to do it. -“Listen please, Miss Ray. If you’ll be making ready, I’ll call you -again when I’ve had Mrs. Devoe--if I can get her quickly--and assure -you of her personal invitation. If she is in the least reluctant--I’ll -be honest and tell you so. You’ve forty minutes to make your train, if -you don’t lose any time. Please!” - -But all he could get was a doubtful: “I can’t promise, Mr. Black--I -can’t decide, all in an instant.” - -“Then--will you let me call you again, with Mrs. Devoe’s invitation, if -I get it in time? And will you call a taxi, so that if you decide----” - -A low and heart-warming laugh came to him over the wire: “Oh!--I don’t -know what I’ll do. I’m going to hang up the receiver.” - -“Wait a minute! Will you be on the train? Won’t you take a chance? I -may not get my friend in time to let you know, but I’ll surely have the -message by the time you join me. Just remember--won’t you?--that--I’m -going to France pretty soon----” - -“Forgive me!” And the receiver clicked in his ear. It was high time. -Two hurried people cannot talk over a telephone and not be using up -minutes of which they have none too many. - -The next half-hour Black spent in a manner calculated both to warm his -body and cool his spirit, if the latter could have been readily cooled. -In a smoking-hot telephone booth he struggled with the intricacies of -a system temporarily in a snarl--of course it would have happened on -this particular morning. He did, at length, get Mrs. Devoe on the wire. -He cut short, as courteously as he could, her rejoicings at the sound -of his remembered voice, and put his question. He received the cordial -consent he knew he should, though his reason told him she would have -preferred to see him alone. He was sorry--he couldn’t help that--he -would make it up to her as best he could. But have this one day with -Jane he must, if it could be brought about. - -When he emerged from the booth at last it was much too late to get -Jane, if she had left for her train. He might call up the shop and find -out what had been her decision, and whether she was on her way, but -somehow he preferred not to do that. Rather would he cherish the hope, -until her train came in, that she was on it. Ten minutes more, and he -would know. Meanwhile--he would try to cool off! Somehow--he had never -been more stirred by a possibility--never so looked forward to seeing -a train come in. If Jane would come, he felt that he should be almost -happier than he could bear and not show it. If she did not come--how -was he going to bear that? Suddenly all his fate seemed hanging in the -balance. Absurd, when he had not the slightest intention of making a -day of fate of it! He couldn’t do that; he had decided that long ago. -It was only Jane’s friendship he had, or could ask to have; that was -about the biggest thing he could want before he went away to the war. -He was sure she felt that way, as well as he. Without talking about it -at all, it had seemed to become understood between them. Why, then, -should he be so brought to a tension by these plans for the day? He -hardly knew--except that he was becoming momentarily more anxious to -have them go through, and to find Jane on that hot and dusty local and -bear her away with him for one day to the sea breezes. There could be -no possible reason why he shouldn’t do it, with his good friend at the -other end to make it seemly. - -The train came in. It is probable that could Robert Black have caught -a glimpse of the expression on his own face as he watched the stream -of passengers getting off, he would have tried to look a shade less -tense of eye and mouth! He was hoping, it must be confessed, that if -Jane were there, there would be none of his parishioners coming in by -that same train. If there were some of them aboard, however, he did not -intend to attempt to cover his very obvious purpose of meeting Miss -Ray. If there was one clause more emphatic than another in Black’s -code, it was the one in which he set forth his right to do as his -conscience and judgment sanctioned, provided he did so with absolute -frankness and openness. But if he would brook no interference with his -rights from others, neither would he tolerate intrigue or deceit on his -own part. - -Nobody whom he knew got off--the long line of passengers had thinned to -a final straggler. When he had all but given her up, his heart sinking -abominably--she appeared at the door of the car, evidently detained by -a stranger asking information.... Was it the same weary Jane whom he -had seen in the morning? It couldn’t be--this adorable young woman in -the dark-blue summer travelling garb, with the look about her he had -always noted of having been just freshly turned out by a most capable -personal maid. How did she manage it, she who was accustomed to set her -hand to so many practical affairs? And how, especially, had she managed -it this morning of all mornings, when in an incredibly short space of -time---- Oh, well, it wasn’t that Black thought all these things out; -he just drank in the vision of her, after his hour of uncertainty, and -rejoiced that she was here--and that she looked like that! - -He smiled up at her, and she smiled back; it was like two chums -meeting, he thought. He had grasped her hand before she was fairly down -the last step of the car. The coming holiday suddenly had become a -festival, now that she was here to share it. - -“I oughtn’t to have come, you know,” she said, as they walked down the -platform together. “I suppose that’s why I did come.” - -“I don’t know any reason why you oughtn’t.” - -“I do--a big one. But I’m going to forget it.” - -“Please do. I appreciate your coming more than I can tell you.” - -He looked down at her, walking beside him among the throng of -strangers, and experienced a curious and entirely new sense of -possession. He was so accustomed to the necessity of steering a -strictly neutral course where women were concerned, that to be off -like this alone with this amazingly attractive and interesting member -of what was to Black practically the forbidden class, was almost an -unprecedented experience. He was astonished to find himself quite -shaken with joy in the sense of her nearness, and in the knowledge that -for this day, at least, he might be sure of many hours with her, never -afterward to be forgotten. Surely, that fact of the separation, so near -at hand, which might so easily be for good and all, justified him in -forcing the issue of this one day’s companionship, whatever might be -its outcome. - -In the second train it was again too hot to think of taking the -fifty-minute ride in a stifling coach, and Black again sought the -rear platform, found it unoccupied, and took Jane to it. The noise of -the train made talking impossible, and the pair swayed and clung to -the rail in silent company until at length the journey was over. They -alighted at a little breeze-swept station, the only passengers for this -point, which Mrs. Devoe had told Black was a solitary one. - -“Oh-h!” Jane drew a long, refreshed breath. “Isn’t this delicious? How -grateful I am to you for making me come--now that I am here and feel -this first wonder of sea air. It’s ages since I’ve taken the time to -get within sight of the sea.” - -“Do you mean to say I made you come?” - -“Of course you did. Imposed your masculine will upon mine, and brought -me whither I would not--which sounds scriptural, somehow--where did I -get that phrase? All the time I was dressing I was saying to myself -that I not only could not but would not. I am in the habit of making my -own decisions. I really can’t account for it.” - -“I can. This is to be a day of days in both your experience and -mine--it was for us to have, together, before we go across where there -can be no such days. Our friendship is a thing that demands a chance to -talk both our affairs over in a way we never can back there. Don’t you -feel that?” - -“Yes--I suppose that was why I came. How straightforwardly you put -it--like your straightforward self!-- Oh, how glorious this is!” - -Her head was up, she was walking sturdily erect beside him over a white -road hard and smooth with ground clamshells, that ideal road of the -sea district. Far away stretched the salt marshes, with a low-lying -gray cottage in the distance--the only one along a mile of coast. The -breeze, direct from the ocean, made the temperature seem many degrees -cooler than that of the inland left behind. - -“Isn’t it? I haven’t known much about the sea since my early boyhood. -I was born on the east coast of Scotland, and used to tumble around in -the surf half my time, wading or swimming. But that’s a pretty distant -memory now. I suppose I still could swim--one couldn’t forget.” - -“Oh, no--quite impossible. I was brought up to swim--and ride--but it’s -years since I’ve done either. How I’d like to swim clear out into the -blue over there! I suppose nothing so wonderful could happen to-day?” - -“It might--for you, anyhow. Mrs. Devoe undoubtedly bathes here--she -would have something to lend you.” - -“Oh! I somehow got the impression that she was an old lady.” - -Black laughed. “She calls herself old. As a matter of fact, she’s the -youngest person I know. Her hair is perfectly white, but her eyes are -unquestionably young--and very beautiful. She is vigorous as a girl, -and full of the zest of life, though she insists she is old enough -to be my mother. I suppose she must be, for she had a son who would -have been my age if he’d lived. She is simply one of those remarkable -women who never grow old--and her mind is one of the keenest I ever -came up against. She has been a wonderful friend to me, as she was to -everybody in my first parish, with her wealth, and her charm, and her -generosity, though she was only there part of the time, for she’s a -great traveller. You’ll like her--you can’t help it.” - -“I shall feel as if I were intruding horribly. She must want to have a -long talk with you alone--of course she will. You must let me manage -it, or I shall be sorry I came.” - -“I’ll let you, certainly--though I’ve no doubt she would manage it -herself. She’s too clever to be defeated in getting anything she wants -as much as she and I both want that talk. So don’t imagine yourself -intruding. There are few people who understand better the laws of -friendship, human and Divine, and nothing could make her happier than -to know that I’ve found another friend. She’s always insisted that -there were many people in the world who knew what real friendship -meant, but I’ve doubted it. I still doubt it--in a way--but not as I -did before.” - -Thus the day began for them, with an entirely frank understanding that -before it was over they were to know pretty well on what ground they -stood. High ground it was to be, no question of that. There was no hint -in Black’s language or in his manner of intended love-making, but his -intense interest both in the subject before them and in Jane herself -was very evident. It was quite enough to make the day a vivid one for -any such man and woman. There are those who feel that there come hours -when the expression of the best and finest friendship may surpass in -beauty and in quality the more intimate revelations of a declared love. -However that may be, it can hardly be denied that the early approaches -of one spirit to another may contain an exquisite and unapproachable -surprise and joy, to remain in memory in the whitest light that shines -in a world of shadow. - -There is no space to tell the whole story of that day. Of the arrival -at the cottage--hardly a cottage, it stretched so far its long gray -porches in a roomy hospitality--it can only be said that its welcome -proved as friendly as the personality of its hostess. Mrs. Devoe put -both arms about the shoulders of Robert Black, greeting him as a mother -might have done. She gave Jane one smiling survey of discerning -sweetness, said to Black, “She’s just what I should expect a friend of -yours to be, my dear,” and bore Jane off to extend to her every comfort -a traveller on a July day might need. Returning, having left Jane for -the moment in a cool guest room, she questioned the man as one who must -know her ground. - -“How much does this mean, and just what do you want of me, Robert?” - -“I don’t know quite what it means, Mrs. Devoe--except that she and I -like very much to be together--and we are both going to France soon. It -may be a very long time before we can spend a day together again. It -seemed to me we had to have the day. And all I want of you is to let me -have part of it with you--and part of it with her--and understand that -I’m so glad to be near someone who feels like a mother that I’d have -come five times as far for one hour with you.” - -She nodded. “I know. We have missed each other. But before we begin our -talk--it’s just the hour for the morning swim. Will you and Miss Ray go -in, while I sit on the beach under my big sun umbrella and watch you? -I’m not going in now; I had an early morning dip.” - -“Can you manage it--for me?” - -“Of course. I keep several extra suits here, and Sarah has them all in -the nicest order for guests.” - -It was more than he could have imagined hoping for when the subject -was first mentioned. What could have been more glorious than to dash -down the beach, and find Jane, in the prettiest little blue-and-gray -swimming clothes in the world, already floating out on the crest of a -great wave? All his early sea training came back to him as he plunged -under a lazy comber, and swam eagerly out to join the blue-and-gray -figure with the white arms and the wonderful laugh he had never heard -make such music from her lips before. - -“If not another thing happens to-day, this will have made it quite -perfect,” Jane declared, swimming with smooth strokes by his side -toward shore, after a half-hour of alternate work and play in the blue -depths. - -“It certainly will. I’m a new man already--feel like a sea-god, in -spite of aching muscles. It takes an entirely new set to swim with, -doesn’t it?” - -“Absolutely. What a pity one can’t have swimming pools brought to one’s -door, like fish, when the wish takes one, on a July day. What a dear -your Mrs. Devoe is to think of this the very instant we appear. I don’t -wonder you love her, she’s so very attractive to look at, and so young, -in spite of her years.” - -“There’s nobody like her--you’ll be confident of that when you’ve known -her just one day. What I owe her--I could never tell you--and hardly -myself.” - -Jane was sure of it. She began to understand at once certain qualities -she had long since noted in Robert Black. The explanation now was easy: -he had been under unconscious training from Mrs. Devoe, his friend. She -had been to him, for those five years during which he had served his -first parish, not only the mother he had missed but the stimulus he had -needed to bring out his best attributes of mind and heart. That she had -done this for many another, first and last, lessened not a whit his -debt to her. Somehow he had never been more conscious of this debt than -he was to-day, upon seeing her again after the interval of more than a -year. - -After luncheon--a refreshing affair partaken of on the airy end of the -seaside porch--Black had his hour with Mrs. Devoe while Jane wandered -off down the beach, taking herself out of sight and sound around a -rocky curve. In spite of his eagerness to be with Jane, Black enjoyed -that hour to the full, for it meant that he could pour out to this -perfect confidante the story of his year amid the new surroundings, and -feel as of old her understanding and sympathy, as well as experience -afresh her power to show him where he lacked. But it was only for a -little that they discussed the affairs of the new parish; both were -too full of the bigger challenge to service Black had received, and -all that it might mean. _France!_ That was the burden of their talk -together, and when it ended both were glowing with the stimulus each -had received from the other. - -“I may go myself,” Mrs. Devoe said, looking off longingly across the -sparkling blue waters as she rose from her low porch chair, at the end -of the hour, ready to send her companion off before he should want to -go--one of the little secrets of her charm, perhaps! “Why shouldn’t I -spend one or two of the last of my active years in work like that? Many -women of my age are in service over there--and I can manage things--and -people, can’t I, Robert?--and get any amount of work out of them -without making them cross at me!” - -Her beautiful eyes were sparkling as they met his. - -“You can do anything,” he said with reverence. “If you should choose to -do that, it would be the greatest service of a life that has been just -one long service.” - -“Ah, you’ve always thought too well of me. If I’ve loved my -fellowmen--and women--it’s because I’ve found that there’s nothing in -life but that--and the love of their Maker. I’ve been selfish, really, -for I never gave without getting back ten--twenty--a hundred fold.” - -“There’s a reason for that,” he said with a smile. - -She sent him away then, pointing in the direction Jane had gone. He -went almost reluctantly--which was perhaps the greatest tribute to her -hold upon him he could have given her. In truth she was the only woman -of any age he had ever known intimately, and to go back to Jane, from -her, was like leaving home to adventure in the unknown. - -But the unknown has its lure for any man--and this particular unknown -drew Robert Black with rapid footsteps once he had started in its -direction. He had quite a walk before he came upon her, for Jane had -gone on and on, following curve after curve of the shore, around one -rocky barrier after another. When he caught sight of her at last she -was standing upon a great rock, in the shadow of the cliff towering -above her, watching a distant ship which was almost hull down upon the -horizon. - -Young and strong and intensely vital she looked to him as she stood -there, her face and figure outlined in profile against the dark cliff. -The morning swim and the sea air had brought all its most vivid -colouring into her face; the light breeze blew her skirts back from -her lithe limbs; she might have been posed for a statue of Liberty, or -Victory, or anything symbolic of ardent purpose. And yet he was sure it -was no pose, for she did not hold it an instant after his call to her, -but came running down the sloping rocks with the sure foot of youth and -perfect health, her voice that of warm joy in the hour. - -“Oh, I’ve not been so happy in months--years!” she cried. “I don’t know -why. It’s just sheer delight in being alive, I think, in the midst of -all this wonder of sea and sky and air. How can I ever thank you for -bringing me down here? It was what I needed to put the breath of life -back into me, after all these weeks of work and bother over closing up -and getting away. This morning, when you met me, I almost didn’t want -to go to France--can you believe that?--after all my preparation! And -now--oh! I’ve just been standing here watching that ship go out, and -imagining myself on her, with the ocean breeze blowing in my face as -it’s been blowing here--only stiffer and stronger as we got farther and -farther out. And now--I can hardly wait to go!” - -He looked into her face, and met her eyes--and gave her back her -radiant smile. And then, suddenly, he didn’t feel at all like smiling. -Rather, his heart began to sink at thought of the separation so near at -hand. - -“Come, please,” he said, “let’s sit down over here in the shade, though -you look just now as if you belonged nowhere but in the brightest -sunshine. I want to talk it all out. And this is our hour.” - -He found a seat for her where she could lean against a smooth rock. -Then he took his own place, just below her and a little farther back, -so that as they both looked out to sea he could study her side face--if -she did not turn it too far away. It was rather clever of him, and -highly characteristic, if he had known it, of the male mind when making -its arrangements for a critical interview. Jane might easily have -defeated him in it, but she did not. Perhaps she knew that to talk as -freely as he seemed to want to talk he must have a little the advantage -of her as to the chance for observation. - -“I don’t know why it is,” he began, slowly, and with astonishing -directness, much as he was accustomed to do everything, “but it seems -to me that the only way I can possibly make clear to you something you -must know, is just simply to state it--and ask your help. I’ve thought -of every other way, and I find I don’t know how to use them. I haven’t -been brought up to feel my way, I have to cut a straight path. So--I’m -going to tell you that--I find it very hard not to ask you to marry me, -because I never wanted to do anything as I want to do that. I think it -is your right to know that I want to do it--and why I--can’t.” - -There was an instant’s silence, while Jane gazed steadily out to sea, -her side face, as he looked hard and anxiously at it, that of one who -had received no shock of surprise or sorrow. Instead, a shadow of a -smile slowly curved the corners of her sweet, characterful mouth. - -“Thank you, Robert Black,” she said, without turning toward him at all. -“Whatever else I have or don’t have, in life, I shall always have that -to remember--that you wanted me. But of course I know, quite as well as -you do, that you are not for me--nor I for you. I have understood that -perfectly, all along. You really didn’t have to tell me. But--I can’t -help being glad you did.” - -And now, indeed, there fell a silence. Where was the “talk” Black had -thought he was to have, carefully unfolding to her the reasons--or -rather the great reason--why he couldn’t ask her for herself, but only -for her lasting friendship--for this was what he meant to ask for, in -full measure. Was it all said, in those few words? It seemed so--and -more than said. There was nothing to explain--she understood, and -accepted his decision. That was all there was of it. Was it? - -As he sat there, staring out at the incoming waves, each seeming to -wash a little higher on the beach than the last, her simple words -all at once took on new meaning. Why was she glad he had told her? -Why should she say that she _had that to remember_?--as if it were -something very precious to remember? No real woman could be so -glad as that just to hear a man say he wanted her--even though he -could not have her--unless---- Yes, there was revelation in those -words of hers--even quiet, straightforward confession, such as his -straightforwardness called for. He had virtually told her that he loved -her, though he had carefully refrained from using the phrase which -is wont to unlock the doors of restraint. Well, in return, she had -virtually told him--yes, hadn’t she?--else why should she be glad of -his words to remember? - -The thought shook him, as he had never dreamed he could be shaken. -He had believed he could keep firm hold of himself throughout this -interview, in which he was to tell a woman that in asking for nothing -but her friendship he was withholding the greater asking only because -he must. But now that he knew--or thought he knew--that she cared, -too---- Suddenly he drew a great breath of pain and longing, and folded -his arms upon his knees which were drawn up before him, and laid his -head down upon them. - -After a minute Jane spoke: “Don’t mind--too much,” she said, and the -sound of her low voice thrilled him through and through. “It’s a great -deal just to know that the biggest thing there is has come to one, even -though one can’t have it to keep. And yet, in a way, one can have it to -keep. I have something to take with me to France now--that I couldn’t -have hoped to have. Perhaps you have something, too. I am trying to -give it to you, without actually saying it--just as you have given it -to me without actually saying it. I think that’s only fair. And I want -you to know that I do perfectly understand why you can’t say more. You -can no more ask me to marry you than--I could marry you, if you did ask -me. For I couldn’t--Robert Black--even though----” - -He lifted his head, his eyes full of a wild will to know what she -would say. “Even though--_what_?” he asked, in a voice which would not -be denied. - -“Why should I say--what you do not?” she asked, with that strange -little smile of hers. - -“I thought I mustn’t say it. But now that you---- Oh, I’ll say it, if -you want to hear it.” - -“I do. You might at least give me that to keep, too.” - -“Oh!” He turned and looked straight into her uplifted eyes. Then he -said the words--that he had thought he wouldn’t say. And he heard the -answer. After that he didn’t know how time passed, because there seemed -to be no time any more--just eternity, which was soon to separate them. - -Then, all at once: “Jane,” he said, heavily, “perhaps some time--when -you have been through--what you will go through over there----” - -She shook her head. “It would never make me--what I should have to be -to fill the place your wife must fill. You couldn’t have a hypocrite -taking that place--and I couldn’t play the part of one. There’s a -great gulf fixed between us--no doubt of that. I can’t accept your -beliefs--and you can’t accept my--lack of them. It will always be -so. As long as I can never say a prayer--and as long as you live by -prayer----” - -“Do you remember,” he asked, “how glad you were to have a prayer said -over Sadie Dunstan?” - -She nodded. “Because it meant the difference between custom and -outrageous ignoring of custom. And I liked the prayer, and respected -your belief in it. But--I didn’t for a moment think any one but -ourselves heard it.” - -“Sometime,” he said again, sturdily, “you will pray, and be glad to -pray. And you will know that Someone hears.” - -“When I do”--her voice softened incredibly--“I will let you know. -And--in a way--it isn’t true when I say that I don’t believe in prayer, -because--I could so easily, this very minute--pray to--_you_.” - -“To me!” he repeated unsteadily and incredulously. “For what?” - -“For what--you think--you mustn’t give me. Yet--since we are going so -far away from each other--so soon--and--since--the kind of chaplain you -will be is just as likely to get--a bullet through his splendid heart -as any other man--I almost think--you might give it to me. It is----” -He had to bend to catch the words, the heart she had mentioned beating -like mad in his breast with what might almost have been a bullet -through it, for the shock of it. “It is--so little for you to give--and -so much--for me--to have! And I know--with your dreadful Scotch ideas -of what mustn’t be, you will never, never think you can give it to me -unless I--pray for it----” - -He was still as a statue, except for his difficult breathing, while -she waited, her head down and turned away, a wonderful deep flush -overspreading all her cheek and neck. Then, at last, he spoke, in a -whisper: - -“It isn’t ‘_little for me to give_.’ It’s--all I have.--I didn’t -think--didn’t dream--I could give it to you unless I gave you--myself -with it. But----” - -She looked up then. Her lips were smiling a little, and her eyes were -full of tears--it was a glorious face she showed him. - -“I always knew the Scotch were cautious,” she breathed, “and sometimes -a trifle--close. But I didn’t think they would hesitate so over a ‘bit -gift’--when--they were withholding--so much----” - -She hadn’t finished the words before his lips met hers. And when this -had happened, it was she who got swiftly to her feet. He rose also, but -more slowly, and with a strange film across his eyes. - -“Now,” she said, breathing a little quickly, but with the old control -coming back long before he could get hold of his, “we’re quite all -right, I think. We’re on a firm basis of friendship for the rest of our -days, and everything completely understood. It goes without saying that -this was--_something to remember_, and only that. Shall we----” - -But Robert Black reached out and caught her hand. - -“Jane,” he said, “I want you to listen--listen with your heart, not -with your reason.” - -Then, with his head bared, he lifted it, as he had lifted it -in the woods with Red. “O my God,” he said, “teach her--show -her--somehow--Thyself. For she must learn, and I can’t teach--this. -Over there, if not here--show her that she is all wrong, and that Thou -_art_ real, and ‘nearer than breathing, nearer than hands and feet.’ -Until then--keep her safe--_for me_.” - -He opened his eyes. Jane was staring straight out to sea, and on her -face was he knew not what of mingled longing, appeal, and protest. -Her fine brows were drawn together, her lips were caught between her -beautiful white teeth. She turned upon him. - -“Robert Black,” she said, low and fiercely, “I’ll never say I believe -God heard that--oh, yes, I know there is a God--but I’ll never say I -believe He heard, or cared--until I do believe it, not even if it would -give me--you.” - -“And I,” answered Robert Black, steadily, “would never ask you to say -it till you do believe it--not even if it would give me--you!” - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -QUICKSILVER IN A TUBE - - -“Where away, Miss Lockhart? May I come along a bit?” - -Nan turned, to see Cary Ray’s tall figure falling into step beside her, -his clean-cut face wearing the look of intent purpose which was now so -marked upon it. - -“Of course you may. I’m going to the station to meet Fanny. You knew -her uncle died, and she went West to the funeral? She’s coming back to -stay a few more days with me before she goes to join her mother.” - -“I heard about the uncle. Is it a serious loss for her?” - -“I believe he supplied Mrs. Fitch and Fanny with most of their funds, -but I think they seldom saw him. He was rather eccentric and a good -deal of a recluse.” - -“Let’s hope the funds continue, anyhow,” said Cary, lightly, “in the -shape of a big bequest. That will alleviate the sense of loss, besides -providing a tender memory. These recluse uncles with large bank -accounts and generous dispositions are all too uncommon--I never saw -the shadow of one. If I only had one now! How I’d leap to make him a -farewell visit--in uniform--if I ever get mine. I’m mightily afraid -I shan’t get it, by the way, till I’m about to sail, so I’ll have no -chance to strut around this town and call on you all with an air of -conscious modesty.” - -“Too bad,” laughed Nan. “But we’re quite sufficiently impressed -now just by the knowledge that you’ll soon be off. What is the -war-correspondent’s insignia, do you know?” - -“Two fountain pens, crossed, on the collar, and a large splotch of -ink on the left sleeve,” announced Cary, promptly. “Also, in time, -presumably, a three-cornered tear over the right knee, and a couple of -black eyes, from trying to push to the rear out of danger while rapidly -taking notes on what a highly developed imagination assures him is -undoubtedly occurring at the front.” - -“Great! My imagination, though not so highly developed, pictures a -quite different scene.... Oh, isn’t that the train coming in?” - -“It is. The station clock lies, as usual. We must sprint for it if we -want to be on the platform.” - -They quickened their steps, and were in time to see Frances Fitch -appear in the vestibule of her car, and to stare up at her with -surprised and--at least in Cary’s case--appreciative eyes. - -“Oh, Fanny!” It was Nan Lockhart’s inner cry to her incomprehensible -friend, though her lips made no comment. “How _could_ you? Don’t you -think we must _know_ you’re acting? You don’t care enough for that.” - -For Fanny was apparently in mourning, certainly in black, the most -simple but effective black the eye and hand of skilled dressmaker and -milliner could conceive, and in it she was undeniably a picture. Not -all the cunning frills and artful colour combinations of her former -dressing could approach in the setting forth of her blonde beauty the -unrelieved black silks and misty chiffons of this new garb. To Nan’s -sophisticated eye Fanny’s mourning was something of a travesty, for -it was all of materials not ordinarily considered available for the -trappings of woe; but it was undoubtedly only the more effective -for that. Perhaps, Nan acknowledged, in that first quick glance, it -represented the precise shade of honour due a recluse uncle who had -been represented in his niece’s life principally by monthly cheques and -not at all by intimate association. - -“My word, but she’s a ripping beauty in that black, isn’t she?” came -from Cary Ray under his breath, as he waved an eager greeting at the -girl above him, and received an answering smile slightly touched with -pensiveness. “Looks as if she’d been pretty unhappy, too. He was about -all she had in the world, anyhow, wasn’t he?--except the invalid -mother. Poor girl!” - -Nan smothered a sigh. Thus was Fanny wont to carry off the interest and -sympathy of the spectator, whatever she did, on the stage or off it--if -she was ever really off the stage. Miss Lockhart now spoke sternly to -her inner self: “Don’t be a prig, Nancy! Admit she’s perfectly stunning -to look at, and she has the right to mourn her uncle if she wants to. -She didn’t have to make a dowd of herself to do it, just so other women -wouldn’t be envious.” - -“Yes, she is a beauty,” she answered, in her usual generous way. “And -I’m sure it was a great loss.” - -And then she found herself almost instantly a supernumerary, as she -was quite accustomed to be when with her friend in the company of any -man on earth. After one ardent embrace, during which Fanny murmured -the most affectionate of greetings in her ear--“You old darling--what -it _means_ to get back to _you_!”--it was Cary to whom the newcomer -turned, and toward whom she remained turned--so to speak--throughout -the walk home. Nan had to concede to herself, as she kept pace with -the pair beside her, that Cary was doing his part most thoroughly, and -that Fanny could not justly be blamed for giving him her attention. -Before they had reached the house it began to look to Nan as if Fanny’s -mourning had gone to Cary’s head! - -She left them in the library, knowing well what was expected of her, -and went upstairs wondering, as she had wondered a thousand times -before, just why she cared so much for Fanny Fitch. And then, as a -thousand times before, she found the explanation. To do Fanny entire -justice, she was not one of the girls who find no time or taste for -others of their own sex. Nobody could be more fascinating than she to -Nan herself, when quite alone with her. Never down at heel or ragged -at elbow in moments of privacy, always making herself charming from -sheer love of her own alluring image in the mirror, capable of the -most clever and entertaining talk when the mood took her, though there -might be no man’s eye or ear within reach--it was impossible not indeed -quite to adore her. Nan’s soberer yet highly intelligent self found a -curiously satisfying complement at times in Fanny’s lighter but far -more versatile personality. It was only when the more irresponsible and -reckless side of the other girl’s nature came uppermost that Nan found -herself critical and sometimes deeply disapproving and resentful. - -It was a full hour before Fanny came upstairs. Nan had been waiting for -her in the guest’s room, where she had had the luggage taken. As Fanny -came in, the look of her struck Nan afresh as being past all precedent -attractive and appealing. Her colour was now heightened, evidently -by the interview with Cary, and her eyes were full of all manner of -strange lights. She had not yet removed her hat, and somehow the whole -effect of her was that of one poised but a moment at a resting place -on a journey full of both excitement and peril. - -The two met in the middle of the large and airy room. - -“Well, dear--and aren’t you going to take off your hat and settle -down?” Nan put up her hand to remove the demurely becoming hat in -question. “Why didn’t you take it off downstairs and rest your head?” - -“I felt better armoured for defense with it. Never mind taking it -off--I’m going out again.” - -“Did you need defense, then?” - -“Doesn’t one, when a determined young man wants to marry one out of -hand? I’ve only succeeded in putting him off for an hour or two, at -that. He says he may go any day, and on seeing me just now he realized -he couldn’t go without leaving me behind securely tied. What do you -think of that, for a poor girl just from a funeral, to be confronted -with a wedding?” - -“But, Fanny----” - -“That’s what I said--‘But, Cary----’ In fact, I never got further than -that, though I tried it ten times over.” - -“But did you--give him any encouragement?” - -“Did I? Well, now, knowing me--as you think you do--what’s your idea of -it?” - -Nan studied her, without answering. Her gaze dropped from Fanny’s face -to her black-clad shoulder, then suddenly she put her arm about that -shoulder. - -“I’m forgetting,” she said, gravely, “that you have lost a friend. -I’m sorry. Somehow I didn’t expect to see you in black, and can’t yet -realize that it means bereavement.” - -“What a subtle way of telling me that my particular kind of black -doesn’t wholly suggest bereavement! Well, my dear--it seemed to me only -decent to show some respect to an old man who has been very decent -to me, and left me enough to buy silk stockings and pumps in which to -mourn him, to say nothing of other accessories. I don’t think he would -have approved of henrietta cloth and crêpe--and besides--what I’m -wearing suits me better, don’t you think? How do you imagine it will -impress the Reverend Robert? I’ve already noted its effect on one young -man. Can I hope to make another lose his head within the hour?” - -Fanny walked over to the mirror and gave a touch or two to her hair -beneath the black hat-brim. Nan’s eyes still followed her. - -“I ought to be used to your breath-taking statements,” Nan observed, -uneasily, “but I probably never shall be any more than I can become -used to the covering up of what I know is your real self with all this -pretense of lightness. You are sorry you have lost your uncle, but one -would never guess it. And you care--or don’t care--for Cary Ray, and I -haven’t an idea which. As for--the crazy things you’ve said all along -about----” - -“Don’t hesitate to mention his name--I adore hearing it. And I’m going -to pronounce it myself to its owner this very hour--if he’s at home. -That’s why I’m keeping on my hat. And why--” Fanny dived into a small -and chastely elegant black leather travelling bag, and after a moment’s -searching brought forth two filmily fine handkerchiefs which she tucked -away in her dress--“why I am providing myself with the wherewithal to -weep upon. I have no doubt that what the Reverend Robert says to me -will bring forth tears, and I want to be prepared. But whether tears of -joy or sorrow----” - -“Fanny! You’re not--going to him?” - -“My beloved Annette, the number of times in the course of my -acquaintance with you that you have pronounced the word ‘_Fanny!_’ in -precisely that tone of expostulatory shock couldn’t be numbered!--I -am going to him--since I don’t know any way of making him come to -me. Cary happened to say that Mr. Black also was liable to be called -at any hour, and I dare not delay. I want to have an important--very -important--interview with him while my courage is high. I told you, -some time ago, that I should find a way, and I’ve found it. Wish me -good luck!” - -That was all there was to it. Although Nan Lockhart was more than -anxious as to what might underlie Fanny’s mystifying language, she -could not doubt, when Fanny presently set forth from the house, that -she was going, as she had declared, to the manse. It was by now four -in the afternoon. Nan had offered to accompany her friend, saying that -she thought, if Fanny must go, that she would best not go alone. She -had been told that she was a meddling old granny, and that her place -was by the fireside. So--with a kiss--Miss Fitch had walked away, and -as Nan anxiously watched her go down the street she had been forced to -admit to herself, as she had admitted many times before, that there was -an unexplainable and irresistible witchery about Fanny, and that there -could be little doubt that somebody was in danger. She wondered which -of them it was--if any could be in greater danger than Fanny herself. - -The master of the manse was at home when his bell rang presently, so it -fell out, though ten minutes before he had not been there, nor would -have been ten minutes later. He had rushed in for a certain book he -wanted, and was just within his own front door when he heard the bell. -He opened it, his thoughts upon the book in his hand--it was one on -“Minor Tactics,” by the way, and he wanted it for one of his boys. So -he confronted his caller with no means of escape--if he had wanted -any. Why mortal man should wish to escape from the vision of sad-eyed -beauty which awaited him upon his doorstep none who had seen her there -could say--certainly not Cary Ray, who had seen her there, and who was -now stalking angrily up and down a side street, intent on keeping her -somehow within his reach. He knew that Fanny had meant to come--had she -not told him so? Why she had not let him come with her---- - -“I’m sorry to delay you, Mr. Black, but--I need your help very much. -Will you let me come in for a very few minutes?” - -“Certainly, Miss Fitch, come in.” - -What else was there to do? All sorts and classes of people were -accustomed to enter the manse doors at all hours, so why not this girl -in black with the shadows under her eyes and the note of appeal in her -voice, who said she needed his help? What was he there for, except to -help? And yet, somehow, Robert Black had never been quite so unwilling -to admit a visitor. Something within him seemed to warn him that if -ever he had been on his guard, he must be on it now. - -If Nan could have seen Fanny, as she took her seat in the chair Black -placed for her, she would have wondered if she knew her friend, after -all. This the girl with the glitter in her eyes, the reckless note in -her voice, the captivating ways which Cary Ray knew so well? This was -a girl of another sort altogether; one in deep trouble, who presented -to the man before her a face so sadly sweet, lifted to him eyes in -which lay such depths of anxiety, that he might well summon his best -resources to her aid. If ever sincerity looked out between lifted -lashes, it showed between those heavily shadowing ones which were among -Fanny’s most conscious and cherished possessions. - -So then Fanny told Black her story. It was a touching story, bravely -told. Whenever the lines of it began to verge too decidedly upon the -pathetic she brought herself up, as she caught her red lips between her -teeth, said softly, “Oh, never mind that part--it’s no different from -thousands of others,” and went quietly and clearly on. She told him of -the invalid mother, so dear and so helpless--of the uncle who had died, -the one man left in the bereaved family, for whom she obviously wore -her mourning--“though he would have told me not, wonderful old man, who -wanted nobody to grieve for him.” She spoke of the future, so obscure, -and what it was best to do; and now, suddenly, when she least expected -it--she hesitated, then came frankly out with it--here was this suitor -besieging her, whom she must answer. And with it all--she was suffering -a great longing for something which she had not--a sense that there was -a God who cared, which she found it, oh! so difficult to believe. This -last was the greatest, much the greatest, need of all. She had come to -him because she knew no one else who could point the way.... - -Here she rested her case, and sat silently looking down at her hands -clasped tightly in her lap, her face paling with the stress of her -repressed emotion. Yes, it did pale, as well it might. When one dares -to play with sacred things, small wonder if the blood seeps away -from the capillaries, and the pulse beats fast and small. And Fanny -knew--who could know better?--that she was playing, playing a desperate -game, with the last cards she held. - -It was very perfect acting, and yet, somehow, it did not make the man -who watched it lower his guard. He had had no great experience with -just this sort of thing, and yet--he had seen Fanny act before, and had -detected in her acting that it never once forgot itself in the grip of -a genuine emotion. When she ceased speaking, and it became necessary to -answer her, he felt his way with every word he spoke. - -“Have you told all this to Miss Lockhart?” was the unexpected question -he put to her. - -Imperceptibly Fanny winced, but she replied quietly: “Nan knows much, -but not all. She doesn’t quite understand me, I think. I can never make -her realize that flippant and frivolous as I can be on the surface, -underneath something runs deep.” - -“Yet she must want to assure herself of that, she’s so finely genuine -herself. Ever since I have known her I have thought her one of the -best-balanced young women I ever knew. She seems very devoted to you. -And as for her faith in things unseen, I am sure it is very real. -I don’t see how you could do better than to put yourself under her -tuition.” - -“I have tried, Mr. Black--I assure you I have. Nan and I are dear -friends, and I respect and admire her devotedly. But I can’t talk about -these things even to her. Somehow I can’t to any woman. I need--I think -I need a man’s point of view. And not only a man’s but--a priest’s.” - -Her eyes lifted themselves slowly to his, and there was a spiritual -sort of beseeching in them which very nearly veiled and covered the -terribly human wish which was behind. For a moment Black wondered with -a heart-sinking throb of anxiety if he were right in distrusting her -motive in coming to him as he had thus far distrusted it. How should -he dare not to respond to her need, if it were real? How send her from -him unanswered and unsatisfied, if he could really do anything for -her? Why, merely because she was fascinating to look upon, must she -be a deceiver; while if she sat before him with a plain face and red, -white-lashed eyes, he would be far surer that she was in real distress. -It wasn’t fair to her, was it, to doubt her without the proof? - -While he hesitated over what to say to this appeal, all at once he was -confronted with a new situation; one ever calculated to weaken and -undermine the judgment of man. Fanny sat close beside his study desk, -from the opposite side of which he faced her. When his silence had -lasted for a full minute she quietly turned and laid her arm upon the -desk--a roundly white arm, the fair flesh showing through the sheer -black fabric of her close sleeve--and buried her face in her arm. With -her free hand she found her handkerchief--one of the two with which she -had provided herself--and then Black saw that she was softly sobbing, -and seemingly trying with much difficulty to control herself. - -Well--was this acting, too? Can a woman weep at will? And if she -were as unhappy as she seemed, what was he to do about it? It was an -extremely uncomfortable and disquieting situation, and Black wondered -for a moment if he could possibly see it through without blundering. He -was wishing ardently that he had a mother or a sister at hand. There -was only Mrs. Hodder whom he could call in, and she was assuredly not -the person to act as duenna to this young woman. To bring her in would -be to send Fanny out. And was it possible that this was really his -opportunity, and that he must forget everything except to use it for -all that there was in it? - -“I’m sorry you are unhappy,” he said. “Of course it’s not possible -for me to advise you as to Cary Ray--only yourself can answer that -question. I’ve grown to like and respect him very thoroughly, and if -you could be to him what he needs in the way of a sheet anchor, it -would help him more than anything in the world to steer a straight -course.” - -Fanny lifted a tear-wet face. “Would you advise me to marry -him--without--loving him?” - -“Certainly not.” - -“If I cared with all my heart and soul for--someone else----” She rose -suddenly to her feet, and stood before him, a tragic, lovely figure of -despair. “Oh,” she breathed, “you simply have to know--I can’t keep it -from you. You are going so soon--there’s no time to wait. I--I don’t -know what you will think, but--over there you are going to go into -all sorts of danger. I may never see you again. Is it a time to be -afraid--for even a woman to be afraid--to speak? You may despise me -for--showing my heart--but--oh, I can’t help it! Don’t--turn me away. -If you do, I think I shall--die!” - -Robert Black stood as if turned to stone. He had risen as she had -risen; he now stood staring at her across the massive old black walnut -desk as if he could not believe the evidence of his own ears. If Fanny -were to make this incredible declaration at all, she had done it in -the only possible way--across that study desk. If she had attempted to -come near him, to put her hand in his, to try upon him the least of all -feminine arts in approaching man, he would have retreated, bodily and -spiritually, and have been at once too far away for her to reach. But -the very manner of her appeal to him carried with it a certain dignity. -He could not conceivably repulse her in the same way that he could have -done if she had played the temptress, or even the woman who counts upon -her personal charm at close range to sway a man’s heart and influence -his decision. Fanny had studied this man, and gauged him well. If she -had any possible chance with him it was only by making her supplication -to him from a distance, and by looking, when she had made it--as she -did look--like a young princess who stoops to lift him of her choice to -her estate. It was undoubtedly the greatest moment of Fanny’s dramatic -experience; she was a real actress now, for beyond all question she was -living the part she acted, and the emotion which stirred her was the -strongest of her life. - -It was not long that Black stared at her white face, his own face -paling. It was only for a moment that she let him see all she could -show him; then she turned and walked away, across the room, and stood -with her back to him, her hands clasped before her, her head drooping. -The figure she thus presented to him was still that of the princess, -but it was also that of the woman who, having for the instant lifted -the veil, drops it again, and awaits in proud patience the man’s -pronouncement. - -Black came slowly toward her--it did not seem possible courteously to -address her across the many feet of space she had now put between them. -He stopped when he was near enough--and not too near--he seemed to know -rather definitely when this point had been reached. But before he could -speak Fanny herself broke the stillness. She put out one hand without -turning. - -“Please don’t come nearer,” she breathed. “I can’t--bear it.” - -And then she did turn, lifting to him a face so beseeching, lifting to -him for one instant’s gesture arms so imploring, that if there had been -in him one impulse towards her he would have been more than man if he -had resisted her. But--how could there be in him one impulse towards -her when, with every moment in her presence, there had been living more -vividly in his remembrance that other moment, now days ago, when he had -given Jane Ray--“all he had.” Though never again--never again--should -even so brief a glory of experience come to him, rather would he have -that one wonderful memory than all that there might be for him in these -two outstretched arms. - -Yet--how could he but be pitiful--and merciful--to Fanny Fitch? To have -offered herself to him, and to have to stand there waiting to be taken -or refused--there seemed to him no words too kind in which to make her -understand. And yet--how to find words at all! - -“You must know,” he said at last, and with difficulty, “that I am--that -I have--no way to tell you--how badly I feel to have you tell me this, -and to be--unable to----” - -“You’re not unable--you’re just afraid. You’ve kept your heart -sealed up so long--you’ve been so frightfully discreet--such a model -minister--you don’t know at all what you’re putting away from you. It -will never come back--you’ll never have the chance again I’m giving -you--to live--to _live_--oh, to live with all there is of you, not just -with the nice, proper, priestly side of you!” The passionate voice -lifted and dropped again in choking cadences. “You think I couldn’t -adapt myself, couldn’t fill the part. I could--I could!--I would do -anything you asked of me--become a mystic, like yourself--or----” - -“Oh, _stop_!” - -Fanny stopped--there was no disobeying that low, commanding voice. She -knew herself that she had now gone too far. She stood with both hands -pressed over her throat, which threatened to contract and shut off her -breathing. - -“I can’t let you--I won’t let you go on. You’re overwrought--you’re not -yourself, Miss Fitch. Your long journey--your uncle’s death--Cary’s -suit--everything has combined to overtax your nerves. You’re going -to put away this hour as if it had never been, and so am I. You’re -going to find happiness in being a good friend to Cary, whether or not -anything comes of it. He’s worth all you can give him--and you’re going -to give him your very best. Now--won’t you----” - -“Go away?” She looked up at him with a twisted, angry smile. “Before -you have--prayed with me, for the good of my wicked soul? You might at -least do that, since it’s all you can do for me!” - -Suddenly he felt as if he were in the midst of cheap melodrama, forced -to take a part against his will. He had never believed in this girl, he -believed in her less than ever now. For a moment she had convinced him -that in her own fashion she loved him--if she knew what the word meant. -But now he was driven to believe that only her passion for excitement -had brought this scene upon him, and that this last cynical speech was -just the expression of her fondness for the drama. He turned cold in an -instant; his very spirit retreated from her. - -“I should feel,” he said, very quietly, “as if I were playing with -prayer, if I made use of it just now. I think the best thing for you is -to try to rest and sleep, and come back to a natural and sane way of -looking at things. If doors don’t open at a touch, if they are locked -and one has no key, it’s not wise to try to force them. There are -plenty of doors that will open at your touch----” - -“But not yours! And now that you have locked and doubled barred it I -want to tell you that it’s too late. I’ve seen inside, and know what a -chilly, stony place it is. There’s no fire there--it’s all austerity. -No woman could keep warm there, certainly not a woman like me. I’ve -long wanted to know what was behind that granite face of yours, and -now I’ve found out. I’ve kept my splendid, big-hearted Cary waiting -till I could satisfy myself about you, and know that he was worth two, -three--ten of you, Robert Black! I’m going back to him--and happy to -go. Do you wish me joy? Or does even doing that go against your flinty -conscience?” - -He came toward her, pitying her again now, it was so obvious that she -was trying to save her humiliated face. - -“Miss Fitch,” he said, gently, “I do wish you joy--if you can find it -in anything genuine. But don’t play with Cary Ray--he doesn’t deserve -it.” - -“Will you marry us to-night at eight o’clock?” - -He looked at her steadily. “You don’t mean that!” - -“I certainly do. That was what I came for--as he knows. And to settle -a little wager I had with him. I’ve settled it. And now I’m doing my -real errand. Will you marry us, Mr. Robert Black?--since you have -refused--everything else?” - -He walked away from her now, over to the window, and stood looking out -for a space. Fanny watched him, her head up, her lips smiling a little, -ready to face him when he turned again. He came back at last, and he -spoke quietly and decidedly. - -“If you will send Cary to me,” he said, “and he asks me to do this, I -will do it. Not otherwise.” - -“What do you want to do? Talk with him, and try to persuade him that -I’m not good enough for him?” - -“I want to talk with him. I want to ask him to wait to marry you till -he comes back.” - -“And why, if you please?” - -“Because he’s going to find out, over there, that life is something -besides a game. And when he comes back, if he still wants you, it will -be because you have found it out, too. Oh, I wish--I wish with all my -heart--you would stop playing and be real. Why not?” - -“I think,” said Fanny Fitch, “it’s because I’m made that way. You might -as well give me up. If I laugh, it’s as likely as not to be because I -want to cry. And if I cry, it’s more than likely to be true that I’m -laughing inside. I love to act, on the stage or off of it. How can I -help that? It’s the true dramatic instinct. How can I be any more real -than I am? Being what you call unreal is reality to me. If I were to -try to be what to you is real, I should be more unreal than I am now. -There, Mr. Minister what will you do with that?” - -Black shook his head. “You are merely juggling with words now,” he -said. “I think you know what I mean as well as I do. And I think -something will happen which will make you unwilling to play with -things--and people--as you do now. Meanwhile----” - -The doorbell rang sharply. It was what Black had been expecting -all along. There was nothing to do but answer it. Mrs. Hodder was -accustomed to do this only by request, and he had not asked her for -it to-day, for she was more than usually busy in her kitchen. Black -went to the door, leaving Fanny behind, and hoping against hope that -it might not be some caller who would be certain to misunderstand the -whole situation. It proved to be the one man whom he could have wished -to see. Cary Ray had walked the street to a purpose, though he had not -known, for he had met a messenger. With his message in his hand he had -rushed to the manse door. - -“Is Fanny here?” - -“Yes. Come into my study, please.” - -Breathless with his fast walk which had been all but a run, Cary -confronted Fanny across the room. He crossed it, seized her hands, and -stood looking down into her face with excited eyes. The drops stood out -upon his forehead. - -“You put me off too long,” he said. “I’m off--no time for anything but -to throw my things together and catch the next train. I knew when the -orders came they’d come this way. There isn’t even time for--what we’d -have to get first if we did what I wanted. Perhaps--since you didn’t -know your own mind--it’s just as well. Maybe--if I come back--you’ll -know it better. And if I don’t--never mind. All I want is to get into -the game somehow.” - -Even at the moment Fanny looked past Cary at Robert Black. - -“You see,” she said, “he calls it a game, too.” - -“He won’t,” Black answered, “when he comes back--as please God he will.” - -“I can’t stop a minute. Will you both go with me, over to my sister’s?” - -“Of course.” - -Black caught up his hat. Fanny snatched a glance at herself as she went -by a sombre black-walnut-framed mirror in the hall. Cary mopped his -brow and ran a finger round inside his collar. It was quite plain that -his eagerness now was concentrated on the great news of his imminent -departure. Suddenly nothing much mattered to him except that at last -he was off, with his longed-for chance before him. That was the big -thing to him now, not getting married in haste and leaving a bride -behind him. It was as plain as could be in every word he said, and in -the joyful sparkle in his eyes. Quicksilver in a tube was Cary Ray--and -the mercury had jumped all but to the top! - -The following hour was as wild a one as only those can conceive who -have had an experience like it. At the end of it Cary and Jane, Fanny, -Nan Lockhart, and Robert Black stood on the station platform with six -minutes to spare. At almost the same instant Doctor Burns’s car drew -up, and he and Mrs. Burns joined the group. - -“You are all regular bricks, you know,” declared Cary, “to stand by me -like this. Everybody’s here I could have wanted, except Tom, and since -he beat me to a uniform, and there’s no way of getting his training -camp on the wire in a hurry, I’ll have to go off unsped by him. But I -know what he’d say: ‘This is the life!’ He’s said it to me at least -once a week on a postcard, ever since he left us.” - -“If you are half as happy to be in it as he is----” began Nan. - -“I’m twice as happy--no question of it. And I want to tell all you -people----” Cary paused, looked quickly from one to another, and his -bright glance fell. “No, I don’t believe I can,” he confessed, “at -least not in a group like this. I think what little I can say I owe my -sister. If you’ll forgive me I’ll take her down the platform a bit and -give her my parting instructions.” - -He grasped her arm and walked away with her, the friendly eyes -following the pair. Friendly? Black couldn’t help wondering just what -Fanny was thinking as she looked after them. Certainly she was paler -than he had ever seen her--or was that her unaccustomed sombre attire? - -“Sis,” Cary said in Jane’s ear, “it’s tough to go like this, after all, -with all the things I want to say left up in the air. I hope you’ll -somehow make those trumps back there know what their friendship has -meant to me.--I say--” he broke off to stare at her--“by George! I -didn’t know you were so easy to look at, little girl. You--you--why -you’re the sweetest thing that ever happened--and not just soft sweet, -either--stingingly sweet, I should put it.” - -“Dear, you’re just seeing me through the eyes of parting. Cary, when I -get across we can surely meet sometimes, can’t we? Correspondents have -more freedom of movement than other men, I’m sure.” - -“We’ll try it, anyhow. Janie--I want you to know how I just plain -worship you for sticking by and pulling me out of the ditch the way you -have--you and Bob Black, and the Doctor. Words can’t say it--but maybe -actions can. I’m taking you three with me--and leaving behind a girl -who doesn’t know whether she wants me or not. Best thing to do--eh?” - -Well, he was excited, strung to a high tension, eager to be off--it -could be read in his every word and look. He had barely said these -things to Jane before he had her back with the others, and was getting -off gay, daring speeches to one and another, sometimes aloud, sometimes -under his breath for one ear only. The words he left with Fanny Fitch -stayed with her for many a day. - -“Get into the game, somehow--will you? You can do that much for me, -anyhow. If you will I’ll call it square--of you.” - -When he had gone, his handsome, eager face laughing back at them from -the rear platform of his train, Robert Black found himself following -Cary with an involuntary “God bless and keep you safe, Cary Ray!” the -more fervent that it was unuttered. Suddenly his heart was very anxious -for this audacious and lovable fellow. How would he come through? Yet -it was not of Cary’s life that he was thinking. - -Determinedly he took his place beside Jane. The party had dismissed -their taxicab, now that the rush for the train was over, and were -walking back. It was no time to allow circumstances or other people to -come between them. - -“Oh, how I wish,” breathed Jane, “that I could go this very night. I -want so much to get away before--you do.” - -“And I’m wanting to go before you! If you go first I shall see you off. -If I go first, will you do the same for me?” - -“Your whole church will be there.” - -“Not if I can help it. But even if they are, it will make no -difference. I shall want to look last at--you.” - -“Did you think,” admitted Jane, smiling, “that I could possibly stay -away?” - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -THE ALTAR OF HIS PURPOSE - - -“I think maybe--it’s come, Mr. Black.” - -Mrs. Hodder, housekeeper to the manse, stood trembling in the study -doorway, a telegram in her hand. Yes, Mrs. Hodder was trembling. Robert -Black would never know how like a mother she felt toward him. A lonely, -more than middle-aged woman can’t bake and brew and sew on buttons and -generally look after a bachelor of any sort without coming to have a -strong interest in him--normally a maternal one. And when the bachelor -is one who treats her with the consideration and friendliness this man -had always shown Henrietta Hodder, small wonder if she comes to have a -proprietary interest in him little short of that belonging to actual -kinship. - -Black jumped up from his desk. It was Saturday night, and his sermon -was still in preparation. This was unusual with him, but everything -that could happen had happened, this week, to consume his time and -delay him. Everybody, it seemed to him, in his parish, had needed his -services for some crisis or other. He was tired of body and jaded of -spirit, and he was extremely discontent with the outlines for the -sermon which he had with difficulty dragged out of his unwilling mind. -And now, in the twinkling of an eye, everything was changed. - -He read the message in one hurried instant. Yes, it was here, couched -in military language with military brevity. He was to proceed at -once--nobody in the Service is ever ordered to go anywhere, always -to proceed--and to report within forty-eight hours to his commanding -officer at a camp at a long distance. This meant--yes, of course -it meant--that he must leave town by the following evening, Sunday -evening. And it meant also, equally of course, that between this hour -and that he must be practically every minute on the jump. Well, he -couldn’t but be glad of that. - -His weariness vanished like magic. Mrs. Hodder, watching him read the -message, knew by the way he stiffened and straightened those shoulders -of his, which had been humped over his desk when she came to the door, -that the expected call had come. He looked at her over the yellow sheet. - -“Yes--this is it!” he said. “I must be off--to-morrow night.” - -She swallowed a great lump in her throat. “I expect--there’ll be a many -things to do,” she said. “I’ve got your clo’es in order--I’ve been -keeping them mended up, ready--your socks and all.” - -Black smiled. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her that not an -article of his ordinary apparel would go with him to France, but he -hadn’t the heart just then. It struck him that Mrs. Hodder was looking -a little odd to-night--strangely pale for one whose countenance was -usually rather florid. Then--he saw her hand shake as she put it up to -smooth back her already smooth gray hair, an act invariable with her -when disturbed in mind. It came over him that his housekeeper was not -just happy over his wonderful news. And suddenly, he almost understood -why. Not quite. How could he know what ravages he had committed upon -that staid, elderly heart?--he who had borne himself with such -discretion under this roof that he had never so much as touched the -woman’s hand except to shake it. - -His own heart suffered, at this instant, its first pang at the thought -of leaving this comfortable home of his and the ministrations of this -plain person who had--yes, she had done her best to mother him--he -knew it now--as far as a woman could who was shut away by all sorts of -invisible barriers from any real approach. He put out his hand and took -her trembling one and held it in both his own. He was a chaplain now, -he was leaving his parish, he could do as his will dictated! - -“I want you to know,” he said, “that I appreciate, as well as a man -can, every thought you have taken for me. You’ve made this house seem -as much like a real home as you could possibly have done. I shall -remember it always.” - -Pale? Had she been pale? She had flushed, in an odd, mottled sort of -way, to her very ears--and the back of her neck. Her breath seemed to -come a little short as she answered him. - -“But--you’ll be coming back, Mr. Black?” she questioned, anxiously. -“You’re only going for--a while? I’ll--you’ll--I wanted to speak for -the place again, if I might, when--you come back, sir.” - -Black’s softening face hardened suddenly. “No, I don’t expect to come -back to this parish, Mrs. Hodder,” he said. “I’m resigning to-morrow.” - -“_What’s that?_” - -A deep voice boomed from the hall outside, and Black and Mrs. Hodder -turned together. Red appeared in the doorway of the study, having met -the telegraph messenger coming away just outside the house. He was, by -now, the sort of friend who follows up a telegraph messenger on the -chance that he may be needed. - -Mrs. Hodder knew her place, if momentarily her master himself had -caused her to forget it. She withdrew her hand from Black’s and left -the room hurriedly; and the tears which flowed the moment she was out -of sight were not wholly unhappy ones. As for her hand--the hand he had -held so warmly in both his--well, it was a very precious hand to her -now. Like Jane Ray, she had “something to remember!” - -“What’s that you say?” demanded Red, coming in like a gathering -tornado. “I know you’ve got your orders, or you wouldn’t be found -holding your housekeeper’s hand. But--what in thunder do you mean by -saying you’re resigning your church?” - -Black sat down on the edge of his desk--he was rather glad to sit down -on something if an argument with R. P. Burns in his present mood was to -take place. Not that there could be any argument, but he knew the signs -of warfare when he saw them. - -“Why, there’s nothing else to do,” he replied, quietly. - -“Nothing else to do! Do you mean to say they’re not giving you a leave -of absence?” - -Black shook his head. “I’ve not asked for any.” - -“But they know you’re going?” - -“Know I’m likely to go. It was only fair to tell them that to give them -a chance to look around for a successor. I’ve been perfectly frank with -Mr. Lockhart about it. He’s been skeptical all along as to my getting -the call for a good while yet, but I’ve warned him over and over that -it might come--just as it has come. So--I’m resigning in the morning, -and getting off at night. Good way to go--isn’t it?” - -“Good way for you--and a blamed poor way for some of the rest of us. -See here! Oh, hang that church--what’s the matter with it? Why, my wife -didn’t know this. She supposes, of course, you’re going on leave. She -thinks, as I did, that the parish has got a string on you that amounts -to a rope, to haul you back with. Do you mean to say---- Why, confound -Sam Lockhart! I thought he was one of your best friends.” - -“He is.” - -“I know,” admitted Red, “you haven’t been particularly easy to get -along with. You preached war when they wanted you to breathe peace, -ever since you came. You’ve insisted on picturing the flowing blood -over there when it made some of ’em feel ill just to hear about -it. You’ve had your way about a lot of things, Bob, that they were -accustomed to manage their way. I suspect you’ve been a thorn in some -folks’ flesh--bless your dogged spirit! But--my faith!”--and his eyes -shot fire--“to let you cut loose and go to war, without---- Why, they -ought to be proud to _send_ you. They ought to take you to the station -with a brass band. They ought----” - -“Oh, see here!” Black slid off the desk-edge, came over to his friend, -and caught him by both shoulders. “You can’t make people over by -roaring at them in my study. And much as I want to see you, and warm -as you make the cockles of my heart by your roars, I’ve got to put you -out and get down to work. Why, man, do you realize this changes all my -plans for to-morrow in an instant? I can’t preach the thing I meant -to preach--not now. I’ve had just one text in mind for my last Sunday -here, whenever it should be, and I’ve got to preach on that if I stay -up all night to think it out. And since it’s already----” - -Red pulled out his watch. “Yes, it’s ten o’clock this minute. All -right--I’ll get out. But first--lad----” - -He paused. The flow of his words, which had been well started for a -torrent, halted, ceased. He cleared his throat. He took his lower lip -between his teeth and bit it savagely, then released it, waited a -minute longer, and spoke. But--could this be Red speaking? - -“Bob,” he said, “before you go--will you take me into your church?” - -There was a moment’s silence, because Black’s heart simply -stopped--turned over--and then went on again; and an interval of -experience like that always makes speech impossible. And when he did -speak all he could say was: - -“Oh, Red!” - -“All right. Now, I’ll go.” - -Black’s hand seized his. The two hands gripped till they practically -stopped the circulation in both. - -“I’ll get consent to have a special communion service in the morning--I -should have wanted it anyway. You know, of course, you’ll have to come -before----” - -Red nodded. “I don’t like that part. You’re the only man I want to come -before--but I’ll go through the usual procedure. I may not measure up -to----” - -“Oh, yes, you will. You’ve always measured up, only you wouldn’t admit -it. Don’t mind about that--just answer the questions in your own way. -See here, Red----” - -But he couldn’t say it, and Red knew that he couldn’t--and didn’t -want him to. Didn’t Red know without being told that if there was one -thing that could take the soreness out of Black’s heart over having -his church let him go like this, it would be his receiving this other -great desire of his heart? How did Red know that Black wanted him -in his church? Why, they had become friends! There need be no other -explanation. - -So then Red went away. Where he went doesn’t matter, just now, though -wherever it was he went straight as an arrow to it--rather, he went -straight as one of those famous seventy-five millimetre shells of the -Great War went to its objective. And when he hit the spot something -blew up and things were never the same again in that particular place, -quite as he had intended they shouldn’t be. For a new member of the -Stone Church--which he wasn’t--yet--his activities seemed to begin -rather early. - -Black sat down to his new sermon. No, he walked the floor with it. He -had said there was just one text he wanted for that sermon, and given -that text, plus the tremendous stimulus of the complete change in the -situation, he could hardly stand up under the rush of his thoughts -about it. Instead of ploughing heavily, as he had been doing, his mind -was now working with lightning rapidity. There was no time to write the -new sermon out, he could only frame its outlines and stop at his desk, -every now and then, to make notes of the filling in. By midnight it was -complete--the last sermon he was to preach in this church; it might -easily be the last he would ever preach in any church. That didn’t -matter; all that mattered was that he should get his white-hot belief -upon the cold anvil of his audience’s intelligence and there hammer it -into shape till the anvil was as hot as metal, and something had taken -form that had never had form before. - -It was two o’clock when he finally went to bed. It was four o’clock -when he went to sleep, six when he awoke. When his eyes opened he had -a new thing on his mind--and it was an old thing--a thing he had long -meant to do and had never done. Strange that it should rise up to -bother him now when the day was already so full! He tried to put it -aside. He was sorry, but it was too late, now. A pity that he hadn’t -seen to it long ago, but it was certainly too late now. - -Was it too late? And why was the thought of it knocking so persistently -at the door of his plans for the day if it were not that it was for him -to do, after all? Somehow he couldn’t put it aside--the remembrance of -that forlorn and neglected community, up on the hills, so near and yet -so far, where he had buried Sadie Dunstan, and to which he had always -meant to return--some day. And that day had never come. Well, he had -been incessantly busy--he could have done no more. Demands upon his -time and strength had called him in every direction but--that. Yet -probably he had been no more needed anywhere than there. Too bad, but -it was most certainly too late now. - -At seven his telephone rang. It was Red’s voice which hailed him: - -“I just want to put myself at your disposal for the day as far as I can -cut my work to do it. Jim Macauley says if you want his seven-passenger -for any purpose whatever consider him yours to command. He thought you -might want to pay some farewell visits or something, and would like to -take a few people along. Plenty of candidates for the job--you’ll have -to pick and choose. What time do I--face the music?” - -“Just before church, Red--ten o’clock in the vestry room. I’ve called -them all--they don’t know whom it is they’re to meet. About the -car--thank you and Macauley. I want very much to go up on the hills, -where Sue Dunstan came from, and hold a little open-air service this -afternoon. I’m going to ask two of my boys to run up there and get as -many people notified as possible.” - -“Great Cæsar! That the way you’re going to spend your last hours? Why, -Ellen is planning to open our house for all your friends and----” - -“Thank her heartily for me, will you? And tell her that if she and you -will go along with me up there I’ll like it much better than anything -else she can do for me. I want to take Miss Ray, too, if I may.” - -“Anything you say goes, of course. I told my wife I doubted if you’d -stand for the reception idea, and I don’t blame you for not wanting -it, but--I didn’t expect you’d want to do a stunt like that. All -right--I’ll stand by. Sure you don’t want to preach to the crowd -that’ll be at the station? Wonderful opportunity--better not miss it!” - -“See you at ten o’clock, Red. Stop joking about this day of mine.” - -“I’m not joking--I’m just whistling to keep my courage up. If you think -this day is anything but deadly serious to me----” - -“I know it is. Good-bye--Best Friend!” And Black hung up the receiver -on those last words which he would hardly yet have ventured to speak -if the two men had been face to face. But his heart was warm with a -great love for Red this day--and a great reverent exultation over what -was soon to happen. Why not speak the words that soon, call he ever so -loudly, could not be heard, except by the hearing of the spirit? - -He rushed through his breakfast--it was a banquet, if he had known it, -prepared by devoted hands--and all but ran through the early morning -streets to the dismantled shop and home on the little side street. Sue -admitted him, and took him through to the rear garden where Jane, in -working dress, was packing a box. She stood up, and the colour rushed -into her face at sight of him. - -“I have my call--I go to-night. I’m the lucky one to go first and leave -you behind. But I’m sorry about that, too.” - -She pulled off the gloves which had protected her hands, unfastened her -apron, gave both to Sue, and sent her inside with them. Then she faced -him. - -“Somehow I knew it was close at hand,” she said. “To-night! Well----” - -“This afternoon will you go with Doctor and Mrs. Burns and me--and -Sue--I should like to take Sue--up to the hills where the Dunstans -lived? I want to say a few things to those people up there before I go. -I always meant to do it, and never seemed to get around to it. Somehow -I can’t go away without doing it. And I want you there.” - -She nodded. “Of course I’ll go. I--yes, I’ll go--of course. Oh, how -glad you are to be off--and how I envy you!” - -“Are you coming to church this morning?” - -“Oh!--I--think--not.” - -“Jane!” - -She looked up at him and away again. “I don’t think I--can,” she said. - -He was silent for a minute, studying her. In the bright light of the -Sabbath morning, there in the garden, she had never seemed to him a -more perfect thing. Every little chestnut hair that grew away from her -brow, curving upward in an exquisite sweep from her small ear, stood -out in that light; the texture and colour of her cheek, the poise of -her head upon her white, strong neck--somehow he couldn’t help noting -these lovely details as he had almost never noted them before. It -was as if he saw her through eyes sharpened already by absence and -loneliness. He tried to fix the image of her upon the tablet of his -mind--just the sheer physical image of her, as he might have put away a -photograph in his pocket, to carry with him. Yet it was something far -more subtle than that that he was trying to fix--her whole personality, -body and mind and spirit--this was what he found himself wanting to -take with him in a way that he could never let go, no matter how far -away from her he might be. - -“I’m sorry you don’t think you can,” he said at last, gently. “Do you -know that I never even asked it of you before?” - -“Do you ask it now? You only said--‘are you coming?’” - -“Didn’t that tell the story? I don’t see how I can quite--bear it--if -you don’t.” - -“Then--I will. But I shall sit very far back, and you may not even see -me.” - -“I shall see you--if you are there at all.” - -He had to hurry away then. There was no time to lose if he would do -half the things that must be done that day. But long afterward in dark -and dreadful scenes, the very antitheses of this one, he could close -his eyes and see the little old garden, with its rows of pink and white -and deep rose hollyhocks against the vine-covered wall, and see Jane -standing in the bright sunlight. He must always remember, too, what it -cost him to stand there beside her, and watch her, and know that, as -with everything he looked upon that day, it might be for the last time. -It had taken every particle of will he had to leave her. Fortunate for -him that that will had had a long schooling in doing what it must, not -what it would! - -Ten o’clock--and Red at the vestry door. Within that door a strange -Red, grave and quiet, facing a circle of surprised and deeply -interested men, wondering within themselves how it had ever come about. -A dignified candidate was this, who answered questions, as Black had -bidden him, in his own abrupt and original way, and more than once -startled his questioners not a little. It was at least three times -that Black had to use all the tact and discretion at his disposal to -prevent a clash of arms when it came to some technicality which to some -man’s mind was an important one. But in the end they were satisfied. -Not one of them but knew that if Dr. Redfield Pepper Burns had come to -the point where he was willing to call the old Stone Church his own, it -could only be because some deep antagonism had given way--and that, of -itself, was enough to commend him to them. Such a power as Red was in -the whole community, he could be in the church, if he would. And now -that he would, they must let him in, if they were not fools. And fools -they were not--and some of them were of those whose knowledge is not -wholly of earth, because it has been taught of heaven. So they accepted -Red, as well they might, though he was as far from being a saint as -any one of themselves, nor ever would be one, while he remained below -the stars. The Church Militant is no place for saints, only for human -beings who would keep one another company on a difficult road--and the -company of One who went before and knows all the hardships--and the -glories--of the way. - -Eleven o’clock, and Black in his pulpit. He faced a congregation which -filled every nook and cranny of the large audience room, and stretched -away into the distance in rooms beyond opened for the emergency. News -travels fast, and this news had gone like lightning about the town, -for a very good reason. Black had summoned only two of his young men, -despatching them to the hills to go from house to house there. But -these two, before they went, had done a little despatching on their own -initiative, with the result to be expected. It was a great hour, and -too great honour could not be done. - -As he rose to speak Black’s heart was very full. Jane was there--he -knew, because he had deliberately watched both doors until he had seen -her come in. And she was not far away in a back seat, as she had said -she would be. Instead, she had permitted an eager young usher, in -search of a place in the already full church, to lead her away down to -the very front, though at one side and almost behind a tall pillar. He -had seen her slip into this pew, evidently asking to change places with -a child who had the pillar seat, one well screened from the rest of the -congregation. Once Black had seen her safely in this place, so near -him, he breathed more deeply. He could forget everything now, except -this, his last chance, with that molten metal he had been making ready -for this hour. - -“_And He, bearing His cross, went forth into a place called the place -of a skull, which is called in the Hebrew Golgotha._” - -What happens, in the hour when a man gives himself to a task like this; -when all that he is, or ever hopes to be, he lays upon the altar of -his purpose? Human he may be, and weak, utterly inadequate, as far as -his own power goes, to do the thing he longs to do. And yet--well, -many a man knows what it is to feel his spirit suddenly strengthen -with the hour of need, to feel pour into it something intangible yet -absolutely real and definite--and Divine--to know himself able to -take the minds and hearts and wills of men into his two human hands -and mould them in spite of themselves. And this, as he had hoped and -prayed upon his knees, was what happened to Robert Black this last -morning of his ministry to these people. He could not have asked for a -greater gift--no, not if by putting out his hand he could have taken -Jane’s hand and led her away with him. For that hour, at least, as he -had wished, the man was lost in the priest; he was consecrated, heart -and soul, to his task. How should those before him resist him--the -messenger who spoke to them with the tongue of inspiration? For so he -spoke. - -Christ upon the battle-field--that was his theme. Of itself it was a -moving theme; as he made use of it it became a glorious one. Those who -listened seemed almost to see a manly, compassionate Figure moving -among His young soldiers, living in the trenches with them, facing -the fight with them, enduring the long night with them, lifting their -hearts, speaking to their spirits--inhabiting the place of the skull as -they inhabited it--and when the bullet or the bit of shrapnel had gone -home, saying “_I am with you, be not afraid._” - -Who shall describe the preaching of a great sermon? The pen has not -been made which may do more than sketch the various outlines of either -experience--that of preacher or that of listener, when God thus speaks -to human hearts through human lips. Reporter’s flying pencil may take -down the burning words themselves without an error; only the shadow of -the mountain falls upon the plane of his notebook. Preacher may only -say: “He spoke through me to-day--somehow I know it”; listener may -only think: “I heard what I never heard before, or may again.” Only -He who inspired the message may know all that it was or half that it -accomplished. So it has always been, and so it will ever be--on earth. - -The sermon ended; the communion service began. None went away, as -ordinarily some were accustomed to do; it was if a spell had been -cast upon the audience, it remained so motionless. Only when, at the -very first, a tall figure with a flaming red head came forward at -the beckoning of Black, did other heads crane themselves to see. The -impossible had happened--no doubt of that. It couldn’t be; but yes, it -_was_ Doctor Burns who was marching down the aisle, to stand facing -Black beside the Table on which were set forth the Bread and Wine. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -NO OTHER WAY - - -“_You!_” It was Jane Ray’s astonished, all but shuddering thought. -“_You!_--and not--_me!_ Oh, how can it be? You, who I thought would -stay outside with me--and the like of me--forever, before you would -bind yourself like this. Do _you_ believe the things that he does? -_You_ could never be a hypocrite, Redfield Burns. Are you doing it for -love of Robert Black? No, you wouldn’t do it, even for that, any more -than I would. Then--what _is_ it?” - -She sat with a white face and watching eyes which burned darkly beneath -her close-drawn, sheltering hat-brim, while Red took upon himself the -vows which Black administered. When it was done, and Red stood straight -and tall again, and Black looked into his eyes and took his hand, and -said the few grave and happy words of welcome which end such a service, -Jane’s heart stood still with pain and love--and envy. It seemed to her -that she must get away from the place somehow--anyhow--she could endure -no more. - -But there was no getting away yet. She had to see it through. And what -came next was what Black had told Mrs. Hodder was to come. All through -the service, far back in her usual place, the gray-haired housekeeper -of the manse had sat, still trembling a little now and then, waiting -to hear the blow fall. She it was who knew, she said to herself, the -dreadful thing which was coming. Nobody else, she thought, knew that -the minister meant to resign his charge. She didn’t see why he must -resign it, why he shouldn’t come back. He had been here less than a -year and a half; he was in the full tide of his success; the big church -was his as long as he should choose to keep it. She wondered how they -would take it when they knew. As for herself, her heart was very heavy. -Who was there, in all the church, who would miss him as she would? - -He was speaking. She moved her head and managed to see him through -the close-ranged congregation. He had not gone back to the pulpit, he -still stood beside the communion table, on the floor below, so it was -difficult to get a view of him. He looked very manly and fine, she -thought; his face was full of colour, as it always was when he had been -preaching, and his black eyes were keen and clear as he looked his -people in the face and told them that he was taking leave of them for -good. He used few words, and what he said was very simple and direct. -He had seen it his duty--and his great, great privilege--to go over to -France, and try to do his part. He had preached what he believed with -all his heart, and now the time had come to prove that he believed what -he had preached. He said good-bye, and God bless them, and wouldn’t -their prayers go with him that he might be of all the service to the -men of his regiment that he could know or learn how to be? - -He was withdrawing, that they might act upon his resignation according -to custom, and he had all but reached the narrow door beside the -pulpit when an impressive figure, that of Mr. Samuel Lockhart, in his -well-fitting frock coat of formal wear, rose in his pew. He motioned -to Mr. William Jennings, who sat near this door, and Jennings took a -few steps after the departing minister and laid a hand upon his arm. - -“Don’t go just yet,” Jennings warned him, in an excited undertone. - -Black turned. Mr. Lockhart spoke his name, and he turned still farther -and looked back at his chief officer. Why in the world wasn’t he -allowed to take himself away at this juncture? Must he be detained -to hear a conventional farewell, a speech expressing hope that he -would come through unscathed, and thanks for what he had done for the -church in the short time that he had been with them? There wasn’t much -run-away blood in Black’s make-up, but he was certainly wishing at that -instant that they hadn’t thought it necessary to hold him up, and that -he had taken those steps toward the door fast enough to get through it -and close it behind him before he could be stopped. And then for the -hillside and his open-air talk. _That_ was what he wanted most--and -next! It seemed to him he couldn’t breathe any longer, here with the -flowers and the people and the organ music and the stained-glass -windows! It was his church no longer.... Suddenly he knew that his -heart was even sorer than he had thought it was. - -But there was nothing to do but face it. So he did turn about, and -came forward a few steps, and stood waiting. They were all looking at -him--all those people--and some of them--why, yes, he could see spots -of white all over the church, which grew momently thicker. Could it be -that so many people as that were--crying? That sore heart of his gave a -queer little jump in his breast. Why, then--they cared--or some of them -cared--because he wasn’t coming back! - -“Mr. Black”--Samuel Lockhart cleared his throat--“we have something to -say to you before you go. We want you to know that we deeply appreciate -all that you have done for this church in the short time you have been -with us”--(yes, Black had known that was what he would say)--“and that -though some of us have not always agreed with you in your views on -certain points, we have been unable not to respect you. You yourself -can testify that we have listened to you, as we have listened to-day, -with close attention, always--you have compelled it. But to-day we have -listened with a new respect, not to say a deep admiration for you.” -(Black braced himself. His eyes were fixed steadily upon those of his -chief officer. He told himself that it would be over sometime, and then -he could get away.) “And we have listened with something else--with a -sense of possession such as we have never had before.” - -Mr. Lockhart cleared his throat again. Evidently this speech was -tough on him, too. What in the world did the man mean? A sense of -possession--of what? - -“You see, we are not merely saying good-bye to you, Mr. Black. That of -itself would be enough to make this occasion one long to be remembered. -In fact, we are not saying good-bye at all, we are saying ‘Till we -meet again!’ For--if you will have it so--though you are leaving us -for the time being, you are going over to do what you consider your -part in the war--_as our representative_. The Stone Church refuses your -resignation, sir. Instead, it grants you a year’s leave of absence -which it will extend if you ask it at the end of that period. And it -says to you: Godspeed to _Our Minister_!” - -There was a stir, a murmur throughout the big audience. Handkerchiefs -were held suspended in mid-air while everybody tried his or her best -to see the face of Robert Black. In his pew Redfield Pepper Burns had -grown redder and redder, till his face rivalled his hair in vividness. -Behind her pillar Jane Ray had grown whiter and whiter, as she tried -to stifle her pounding heart. At the back of the church young Perkins, -usher, all but gave out an ecstatic whoop, and pinched the arm of -a neighbouring usher till it was an inflamed red, the victim only -grinning back joyfully. - -“You surely know,” said Robert Black, when he could command his voice, -which it took him a full minute to do--“that a man must go with a -braver heart in him if he goes--for others, than if he goes by himself. -I thank you--and I accept the commission. God help me to be worthy of -your trust.” - -Of course he couldn’t get off till he had had his hand wrung by several -hundred people, during which process, as he had expected, Jane slipped -away. They wept over him, they smiled tearfully at him, they all but -clung to him, but he could bear it now. If he suspected that it was Red -who had done this thing for him at the last--the new member already -beginning to make himself felt with a vengeance!--it was impossible -not to see that now that it was done everybody was immensely glad and -satisfied over it. The hardest heads he had ever encountered here -were among those who were now proud to have him go from the old Stone -Church, the first chaplain in all that part of the country to offer -himself from the ministry. Oh, yes--no doubt but it was all right now, -and Black would have been a man of iron if that sore heart of his had -not been somewhat comforted. - -He had dinner alone with Mrs. Hodder, refusing a score of invitations -that he might give her this happiness. She had been up, baking and -brewing, since daybreak, and he had divined that it would be a blow to -her if he brought even one guest home. He was glad, moreover, of the -hour’s interval in which to draw breath. He did his best to make the -eating of the sumptuous meal a little festival for the woman opposite -him, but in spite of his best efforts it partook of the character of -the parting bread-breaking. - -“You--you won’t be getting into danger so much, Mr. Black, will you, -as if you was a regular soldier?” Mrs. Hodder suggested timidly, as -the dinner drew to a finish with not more than half the food she -had prepared consumed. It was the first time her thrifty nature had -ever thus let itself go, and she had looked conscience-stricken ever -since she realized the situation. But her question voiced the thought -uppermost in her mind. It took precedence even of her worry about the -terrible waste of which she had been guilty! - -“Oh, you’re not to be anxious over any danger for me,” Black assured -her, smiling across the table at her. “Just remember that some day -you’ll get up another just such splendid dinner as this for me, and -then we’ll eat it with better appetites. I shall come back ravenous for -home cooking, as all soldiers do.” - -“Then--you’ll keep the place open for me, sir?” - -“You’ll keep it open for me, Mrs. Hodder. It’s you who will be in -demand for other positions. I’ll think myself lucky if you promise to -come back to me.” - -He was glad to get away now from her tearful face, for this assurance -upset her completely, and she could only apologize and weep again into -a large handkerchief already damp from the demands made upon it at the -morning service. - -Red and the big Macauley car were at the door now with Mrs. Burns, -Jane Ray, and little Sue Dunstan already established in it. They were -off and away at once. Black sat beside Red, and the two fell into talk -while those behind silently watched them. They were an interesting pair -to watch, in conversation. - -“They are so different, one would hardly have expected them to become -such devoted friends,” Mrs. Burns said to Jane, after a time. - -“Oh, do you think they are so different?” Jane glanced from the black -head to the red one--they were not far apart. Black’s arm was stretched -along the back of the seat behind Red; he was leaning close and talking -rapidly in Red’s ear. The latter was listening intently; from time -to time he nodded emphatically, and now and then he interjected a -vigorous exclamation of assent. Evidently, whatever the subject under -consideration, they were remarkably agreed upon it--which had by no -means always been the case in past discussions. Perhaps they were -agreeing to agree to-day, since it was the last--for so long. - -“They seem to me much alike,” Jane went on, at Mrs. Burns’ look of -inquiry. “Not in personality, of course, but--well--in force of -character, and in the way they both go straight at a thing and never -let go of it till they have accomplished what they set out to do.” - -“That’s true; it may be the secret of the sympathy between them. For -a long time I thought they would never get together, but it’s been -coming, and now--and to-day---- This has been such a wonderful day, in -spite of the sadness of it! You were at morning service?” - -“Yes, Mrs. Burns.” - -“None of us will ever forget it.” - -“No.” - -The big car had them up in the hills in short order. As they came over -the last steep rise Red whistled sharply with surprise. - -“My faith!” he ejaculated. “Where do they all come from, in this -God-forsaken region!” - -“God hasn’t forsaken it. That’s a man-made phrase. But they can’t all -come from this locality. I should say not--and they haven’t.... Why, -there are my boys--any number of them. Well!” - -Black leaped out of the car, which had been instantly surrounded. Here -they certainly were, ranks upon ranks of boys and young men, not only -from his church but from the town outside. Everyone of them wore a tiny -American flag on his coat-lapel. - -“You see,” explained young Perkins, lively usher at the Stone Church, -“we didn’t see how we could spare you to come off up here this last day -unless we came along. Please excuse us for butting in, but we couldn’t -stand it any other way.” - -“We mean it as a sort of guard of honour,” declared a tall boy, just -out of short trousers, and extraordinarily disputatious for his age, -with whom Black had held many a warm argument in past days. “Besides, -we----” - -Evidently something was on the tip of his tongue which had to be -suppressed, for he was hauled off by Perkins in a hurry while others -took his place. The young men all seemed much excited, and Black had -to bring them to order lest they put the rest of his audience in the -background. There were plenty of men and women, and even children -present, who were obviously from the hill region, and these were they -whom he had come to meet. - -Under his direction Perkins shortly proved that his talents as an -usher could be exercised quite as well in the open air as under the -stately roof of the home church. He soon had the assemblage massed on -a side hill which he had selected as a sort of amphitheatre where all -could see and hear the man who stood upon the flat and grassy plateau -below. From this point of vantage presently Black spoke to them. - -One of the reporters of the morning, at the edge of the crowd, sat -taking notes in the very shortest of shorthand. He needed all his -powers now, even more than he had needed them in the morning, for Black -spoke fast and crisply, as a man speaks when he feels the time is short -and there is much to say. As the young reporter set down his dots and -dashes he was subconsciously exulting to himself: “Gee, but I’m glad I -got in on this! What a bully story this’ll make!” - -It did make a story, but it was one which like that of the morning -could never be fully written. The words Robert Black spoke now were -not words like those of the morning. He was looking into faces whose -aspect gripped his very soul; it seemed to him that they had all the -same expression--one of exceeding hunger. Even his boys--though he -was not talking now to them--were watching him as those watch who -are being fed. There is no look like that to inspire a man, to draw -out his best and biggest, and it drew Black’s now, beyond anything -of which he had before been capable. The day, the hour, the near -approach of his departure, that “last chance” conviction which had -spurred him all day--all these facts and forces combined to make of -this final, most informal service he was to hold in his own country -for many a day the richest and most worthy of them all. If it were not -so, then those--Black’s nearest friends--who listened with greatest -appreciation and best capacity for judgment, were mightily deceived. - -Red stood with folded arms at the very back of the audience, his hazel -eyes seldom leaving the figure of his friend. What was in his heart -none could have told. His face was set like a ruddy cameo as Ellen his -wife looked up at it now and again. Beyond him Jane Ray stood beside -a great elm; she leaned a little against it, as if she needed its -support. It was a tremendous hour for her, following, as it did, all -the repressed emotion of the morning. Her face had lost much of its -usual warm colour,--her fine lips tensed themselves firmly against -possible tremor. Could she live through the day, she asked herself now -and then--live through it and not cry out a recantation of the old -position of unbelief, not call to Heaven to witness her acceptance of -a new one, passionately believing--and then run into the arms she knew -must open for her? But she was dumb. Even he would not trust a change -in her now, she was sure, though his eloquence this day had been that -to sway far harder hearts than hers. No, she must let him go--there was -no other way. She had made her bed and heaped it high with distrust and -scorn, and she must lie on it. Even for him she could not take up that -bed and walk! - -Black ceased speaking. The hush over the hillside, for the full minute -following, was that of the calm before the storm. Then--the storm came. -Black’s young men--twenty of them from the Stone Church--and eleven -from the town, thirty-one in all--stirred, looked about at one another, -nodded one to another, came forward together. - -“Mr. Black,” said young Perkins, simply enough--fortunately he had -not tongue nor taste for oratory--“some of us have decided not to -let you go ‘over there’ alone. Of course we can’t go with you, though -we’d like to mighty well. But we can enlist--and that’s what we’re -doing--to-morrow morning. We thought you’d like to know.” - -Back up the hillside a smothered sound burst from Red’s throat--a queer -sound between a groan and a laugh. If Black had heard it, he would have -understood what it meant, and his heart would have ached harder than -ever for his friend. His wife did understand, and she slipped her hand -into his, where he crushed it till it ached with pain, and she did not -withdraw it. Beside them Jane Ray bit her lips until they all but drew -the blood. Was there no end, then, to the breaking tension of this -incredible day? - -“I do like to know,” said Robert Black, his eyes fiery with joy and -sorrow and all the things a man may feel when a group of young patriots -offer their all, unknowing half what it means, but understanding enough -to make the act enormously significant of forming character, “and I’m -proud and happy beyond words.” - -A hulking young giant from the hills stumbled forward, and spoke -diffidently from the edge of the group: - -“I guess I’ll be goin’ too,” he said. - -Perkins whirled. “Bully for you!” he shouted, and made a flying wedge -of himself through the other fellows, to shake the giant’s brawny hand. - -There came a second hill boy, younger and slighter than the first. -“He’s my pardner,” he said, with an awkward gesture toward the other. -“I guess if he goes, that’ll mean me too.” - -There were four of these. Fathers and mothers rose in protest. The -first lad turned and faced them. - -“Looky here!” he called defiantly. “We ain’t goin’ to let them city -fellers do our fightin’, are we? Not on your life!” - -That settled it. They were not going to let anything like that -happen--not on those unhappy lives of theirs. - -It was over. The car got away from the last clinging young hand that -would have detained it, and in the long shadows of the late afternoon -swung down the hills to the plain below, and the big town, and the last -hours of the day. When at length it halted in Jane’s narrow street -beside her door, above which her little sign no longer hung, Black, -getting out with her and Sue, said a word in Red’s ear. The other shook -his head. - -“We’ll wait,” he insisted. “You’ve mighty little time to spare now, if -you have a bit of a snack with us before your train goes. And I vow we -won’t let you off from that.” - -“I don’t want to be let off. Give me five minutes here, and I’ll be -with you.” - -“We will come back for you at train time, Miss Ray,” said Mrs. Burns. - -“You don’t think best to ask her to supper with us?” questioned Red, as -the others disappeared into the now empty shop. - -“I asked her and she refused. I knew she would.” - -“Don’t wonder. These blamed last stunts----” - -Red lapsed into a dark silence, his chin sunk upon his broad chest. - -Within the shop Black turned to Sue. “Go out in the garden, and wait, -will you, Sue?” he asked, with the smile which the child would have -obeyed no matter what request had gone with it. Reluctantly she closed -the shop door behind her. In the dismantled, empty place, where he had -first met Jane nearly eighteen months before, Black said what he had -come in to say. - -“I shall write--and you will answer. We can’t do without that, can we? -And there’s no reason why we should. Is that understood?” - -“If you wish it.” - -“Don’t you wish it?” - -“Yes.” - -“Thank you for standing by me this day. I know it’s been hard for you. -I couldn’t help that--I had to have you. You’re not sorry--you stayed -by?” - -“No.” - -“Jane--there are a thousand things I want to say to you, but they’ve -all got to go unsaid--except one. Wherever I am--wherever you are--it -will be the same with me. There’ll be no one else--there never can be, -now. I wanted you to know--if you didn’t know already.” - -“Yes.” - -“Haven’t you a word to say to me--Jane?” - -She shook her head, trying to smile. “What is there to say? -Except--good-bye.” - -“I wish I could put words into your lips,” cried Robert Black, under -his breath. “I want to hear you say them so. At least--Jane--I can’t go -without--once more----” - -She was silent. It was somehow as if her will were in shackles, and -held her so she could neither move nor speak. When they had been -together at the seashore it had been she who had said the more, she who -had forced the issue. Now--she was like a dumb thing, suffering without -power to free herself. It seemed to her that her heart must break if -he did not take her in his arms, and yet she could not show him that -heart. The whole day had seemed to build a barrier mountains high -between them, which she could do nothing to lower. Her hands, pressed -close to her sides as she stood before him, made themselves into fists, -the nails pressing into the firm pink palms until they all but cut the -flesh. - -Suddenly he reached down and seized the hands in his, then looked at -them in amazement, as he drew them up to view, because they did not -relax. - -“What does this mean?” he asked her quickly. “Are you--as unhappy--as -that?” - -She lifted her eyes then, and let him see--what he could not help -seeing. It was as far beyond what she had let him see on that other day -as this day in their lives was greater than that. - -“Oh, Jane!--Oh, my dear!” He could only whisper the words. “And I -have--to leave you!” - -“Yes. Good-bye----” she said again, steadily. - -He let go one of her hands, and with his strong fingers made her loosen -one gripped fist. Then--the other. - -“I can’t bear to see them like that,” he said, with a queer, tortured -smile. “I want----” And he lifted first one palm and then the other to -his lips, and then gently closed the fingers again. “Don’t hold them -so tight again--please!” he said. “I don’t want to have to remember -them--that way. Jane--I don’t know how to go!” - -“You must. Doctor Burns is waiting for you. Don’t mind about me.” - -“Don’t mind about you!” It was a cry of pain. “Why--you’re all I do -mind about--now. I’ve done all the things I had to do to-day--they’re -all done--everything’s done--but this. And this--why, this--is so much -the hardest thing of all----” - -How could he speak at all, she wondered, when she could not? She did -not realize that expression of one sort or another was the breath of -his life to-day. That having poured himself out, all day, to others, he -could not cease from giving; that though to-morrow might bring upon him -a silence and an immobility as great as her own, for to-day his lips -must have speech; his spirit, action. - -“Jane--you won’t deny me--I can’t go without it. God knows our -hearts--knows----” - -He left his own heart on her lips then, in one bitter-sweet moment of -such spending as he had never known--or she--and went away, leaving her -alone there in the deserted shop with the memory of his whispered, “God -bless you--my Jane!” She ran to the window, screening herself from view -as best she could, and saw him get into the car, and saw the car leap -away down the narrow street. - -An hour later she was at the station. Black had not been in the car -when it had come for her; it was full of other people--the Macauleys -and the Chesters, Red’s neighbours and among Black’s best friends. Mrs. -Burns explained that the minister’s new guard, the boys who were to -enlist to-morrow, had come for him in a body, and had borne him away in -the biggest car they had been able to find. - -At the station there was the expected crowd, only it was a larger crowd -than any of them could have anticipated. It was evening now, and almost -dark, and it was beginning to rain. The station lights shone on banks -of lifted umbrella tops; the little flags in the young men’s coats grew -wet. People went about saying what a pity it was that it had to rain. -And if it hadn’t been Sunday night there would have been a band. Jane -found herself very thankful that there was no band. And then, suddenly, -there was a band--a small one, playing “Onward, Christian Soldiers,” -and the crowd was singing with it. Jane wondered, through her dumb -pain, how Robert Black was bearing that! - -Red was out of the car and off in the crowd--no doubt but he was with -Black. He had been heard to express the hope that the blamed train -would be on time and cut the agony short, but of course it wasn’t. It -was only ten minutes late, however, though to Jane those ten minutes, -marked by the clock on the car’s dash, were the longest she had ever -known. Then--there was the shrill whistle in the distance she had been -waiting for, coming at an interval in the music, and she heard it -plainly, and her heart stopped beating. - -Black and Red were at the door of the car--they had had to push their -way through the people. Black was shaking hands with Mrs. Burns--with -Mrs. Macauley--with everybody. Then Jane felt her hand in his, and -lifted her eyes to meet his. The headlight from another car shone full -in his face; she saw it as if it looked at her from very far away. But -his eyes--yes, she could see his eyes--and see how they were piercing -hers, as if he would look through to her very soul for that last -time--oh, she was sure it was for the last time! - -He did not say a word to her--not a word. But his hand, for that -instant, spoke for him. Then he had gone away again, through the -crowd, for the train was in, and the locals made but short stops. A -shout went up--Black’s young men waved their arms, their flags--their -umbrellas--everything they had. - -He stood on the back platform, as he so often had stood before, when -the train pulled out. He looked back at them, the crowds, the flags, -the umbrella tops--but he saw only one thing--the thin, gleaming rails, -stretching away, farther and farther into the distance--and the night. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -AT FOUR IN THE MORNING - - -The morning papers! How many did Red have of them? - -Robert Black had been away for almost a year. Jane Ray’s little shop -had been so long closed that few now turned down the narrow street, -forgetting that the sign no longer told where the rarest and most -valuable things in town surely could be found. People had ceased to -ask who was the tall young man with the interesting face who was said -to write the most brilliant articles to be found in certain columns of -one of the great dailies. Tom Lockhart was gone, and Harry Perkins, -and many another figure from the suburban streets. Only an occasional -youth could be seen now and then upon a delivery wagon. Girls were -everywhere, taking the places of the young men who had gone. Everything -was changed--everything; now that war had come so near that it could be -felt. - -Those morning papers! Red bought and bought, not satisfied with the -morning and evening editions delivered at his door. He came home with -bundles of them under his arm, and scanned them hurriedly, his face -darkening as he read. For the news was heavy news, of losses and -reversals, of a gathering tide which could not be stemmed, of worn -and wasted French and British regiments falling slowly but surely -back because it was not possible to hold another hour against the -tremendous odds of reinforced enemy lines. - -“When will we get in? Great God, those fellows can’t hold out forever!” -Red would shout, dashing the latest paper to the floor where its black -and ominous headlines seemed to stare back at him with the inescapable -truth in each sinister word. “We’ll get into it too late--they can’t -stand such awful pressure. Oh, if we’d been ready!--instead of sleeping -on our arms. Arms--we hadn’t any--though they kept telling us--the men -who knew. We thought we were fine and fit--we--fat and heavy with easy -lives. Yes, we’re awake now but we’ve a long way yet to run to get to -the fire, and meanwhile, the world is burning up!” - -So he would rage, up and down the long living room in his own home, -unable to find a ray of light in the whole dark situation. Even more -poignant than these were his anxieties of a personal sort. Where--when -he stopped to think about it--was Robert Black, that he hadn’t been -heard from now for many weeks? Black had gone across with one of the -first divisions, one made up of men many of whom had had former army -training, men fit to fight at once, who had gone away believing that -they would soon see active service. By great good fortune--or so Black -had esteemed it--he had been sent for at the last minute to take the -place of an old regimental chaplain who had fallen seriously ill. The -substitute’s early and persistent applications for a post had commended -him as one who meant to go anyhow, and so might as well be given the -opportunity first as last. That was the sort they had wanted, for that -was the sort they were themselves. - -“Why, Bob’s last letter’s dated a good two months back,” Red announced, -one June morning of that second summer, scanning the well-worn sheets. -How many times had he read that letter, his wife wondered as she saw -him consulting its pages again. Black wrote remarkably interesting -letters. In spite of censorship he somehow managed to get in all -sorts of vivid paragraphs in which not the sharpest eye could detect -forbidden information--there was none there. But there was not lacking -keen character drawing, graphic picturing of effect of sun and shadow, -stimulating reactions, amusing anecdote. Red had never enjoyed any -correspondence in his life as he had that with the chaplain of the -----th regiment, ----th division. And this was for many reasons, chief -of which was the great and ever-growing bond of friendship between the -two men, which separation just after it had been made forever secure -had only served incredibly to strengthen and augment. - -“I don’t understand it. I don’t like it. I wish I could hear,” Red -complained, replacing the thin sheets in the now tattered flimsy -envelope with the foreign postmarks and the official stamps of various -sorts which proclaimed it a military missive. “He was writing fairly -regularly up to that date, but then he stopped short off, as if he had -been shot. Oh, I didn’t mean that--queer how that old common phrase -needs to be avoided now. It’s none too improbable, either, in his -case, if he ever gets near the Front. He’ll be no rear-guard sort of -chaplain--that’s easy enough to know.” - -He went off about his work, on this particular morning, with a heavier -heart than usual. He hadn’t counted up before, just how many weeks -it was since he had heard from Black; he only knew that he had been -scanning the mails with a disappointed eye for a good while now. Where -could Black be--what had happened to prevent his writing as before? -Hang it!--Red wished he could hear this very day. His mental vision -called up clearly the man’s handwriting on the foreign envelope; he -always liked the look of it so well. It was rather a small script, -but very clear, black, and full of character; the t’s were invariably -crossed with vigour, and there were only straight forward marks, no -curlycues. He wished he could see that handwriting within the hour, -wished it with a queer certainty that he should most certainly not see -it, either to-day or to-morrow. Black was somewhere off the line of -communication, he grew surer and surer of it. - -As the day advanced Red found his presentiment that his friend was -close to danger amounting to a conviction. Red was not an imaginative -person, and ordinarily he was a persistent optimist; to-day it seemed -to be impossible to summon a particle of optimism concerning either the -duration of the war or the personal safety of the man he cared for so -deeply. He did care for him deeply--he no longer evaded or made light -of his affection for Robert Black. What was the use? It was a fact -accomplished; nothing that happened or didn’t happen could now change -it; everything seemed to intensify it. - -Close to eleven o’clock of the evening of this day Red was returning -from a call which had taken him out just as he was beginning to think -longingly of rest and sleep. Passing a news-stand he had bought the -latest evening edition of the latest city daily sent out to the -suburbs, and had found in it only a deepening presage of coming -disaster to the armies of the Allies. This paper was sticking out of -his pocket as he walked wearily along the deserted streets of the -residence district, through a night air still and heavy with the -lingering heat of the day. He took off his hat and mopped his forehead. -Was it hot and still and heavy with languor and dread over there at -this hour, too, he wondered, up on that bending Western front? Or were -the shells bursting and the sky red and yellow with the flares of the -guns, and black with smoke and death? Allowing for the difference in -time it was almost four in the morning over there. Wasn’t it about -this hour that things were apt to happen, over there, after a night of -waiting? Wasn’t this often the “Zero” hour--“over there”? - -To reach his own home he would naturally go by the manse, unless -he went a little out of his way. It must be confessed that Red had -acquired the habit, since Black left town, of going that little out of -his way, when coming home at night from this part of town, to avoid -passing the Stone Church and the deserted manse close by in its large -shadow. He didn’t know quite why he should have yielded, at first -unconsciously, afterward with full recognition of his feeling about -it, to the wish not to see the drawn shades and darkened windows of -his friend’s former habitation. But on this evening, somehow, almost -without his own consent he found himself turning at that corner to go -by the house. - -Dark? Yes, it was dark--almost darker than usual, it seemed; though -this was undoubtedly because the nearest arc-light was burning more -feebly than ordinarily to-night. Anyhow, the place was enveloped -in gloom. It presented a very different aspect from that which had -belonged to it during the term of Black’s residence. His study had been -one of the big square rooms upon the front, its windows always lighted -in the evening, the shades drawn only low enough to insure privacy, not -to prevent the warm glow of the study light from telling its friendly -tale of the occupant within, at home to all comers at all hours, as he -had been at pains to make understood. - -Red didn’t like to look at those dark windows. Many and many a time -during the last months before Black’s departure, after the friendship -between the two men had become a known quantity no longer negligible, -the big doctor had turned aside from the straight road home to make -a late call in that study, the light beckoning him more and more -irresistibly. Weary, or blue, or fuming over some unlucky or harassing -happening in his work, he had gone stumbling or storming in, always to -find a hearty welcome, and such quiet understanding and comradeship as -soon eased the situation, whether he knew it then or only afterward. -Many a pipe had he smoked while sitting in Black’s old red-cushioned -rocker--to which he had taken an odd fancy--and many a story had he -told, or listened to.... There could be no pipe-smoking there to-night, -nor telling of stories. The fire upon that hearthstone was cold. God -only knew when it would be lighted again, or whose hand would light it. - -Red turned in at the walk which led to the manse door. He did not want -to turn in, yet he could not go by. The lawn before the house was -shaven; it had to be kept up because there was no dividing line between -it and the close-cut green turf which surrounded the Stone Church. -Between the vestry door and side door of the manse ran a short walk, -so that the minister had only a few steps to take when he crossed the -narrow space. Somehow Red could almost see the tall, well-built figure -striding across that space, the strong face full of spirit.... - -He took a turn about the house, completely circling it, telling himself -that now he was here he might as well see that all was as it should -be from front to rear. Returning to the front, he heard a distant -clock in the centre of the town booming out the slow strokes of the -hour--eleven. Four o’clock it was then on that Western front, three -thousand miles away. Was Black there--or anywhere near there? Wherever -he was it might be that--well--was there any reason why Red shouldn’t -be able to get him out of his mind? And was there any reason why Red -shouldn’t do what he was now suddenly impelled to do? According to -Black’s own code there was every reason why he should do it--and none -conceivable against it. Sentimental superstition?--or great spiritual -forces at work of which he could know nothing, except to feel their -power? - -He went over to the vestry door--a narrow door of classic outline and -black oak austerity, appearing in the deep shadow like the entrance -to the unknown. He leaned his uplifted arm against it, and rested his -bared head against his arm. Somehow he felt nearer to his absent friend -in this spot than he had ever felt before. - -“O God,” he implored, under his breath, “wherever he is--take care -of him. He’s worth a lot of taking care of--and he won’t do it -himself--somehow I know that. Just do it for him--will You?” - - * * * * * - -On this same night, at a Field Hospital, ten miles back from the firing -line on a certain sector of the French Front, Jane Ray went about her -duties. It was a comparatively quiet night; no fresh casualties had -come in for several hours, and none was expected before morning. - -Beginning as nurses’ helper Jane had worked and studied at all hours, -had faced several examinations, and was now, by virtue of the pressing -demand and the changed requirements which in war time hasten such -matters, an accredited nurse with a diploma. She had thought many times -gratefully of a certain red-headed surgeon back in the States, who had -put her through many grilling tests of his own since he had learned -what she had in view. Not once but often she had watched him operate; -hours on end had she listened to informal lectures from his lips, -delivered at the back of her shop when custom was slack. It had all -helped immensely in her work of preparation, and in her dogged purpose -to make herself fit for service in the least possible time. And now she -was at the very goal of her desires, having for the last month been -serving as near the active Front as a nurse may get, the Field Hospital -to which the wounded are sent from the First-Aid Station. - -It had become to her an almost passionate joy to give these poor -fellows their first sense of real comfort. Though the resources at hand -were often far less than adequate to the demand, when cases poured in -till the hurriedly arranged accommodations were full to overflowing -and there was no such thing as supplying every need, this was the time -when Jane most exulted in her work. Physically strong, though she was -often weary to exhaustion, a few hours of sleep would put her on her -feet again, and she would go back to her task with a sense of being -at last where she was born to be. She managed somehow to give to her -patients the impression that no matter how busy or hurried she might -be she had something to spare for each one of them, and this perhaps -was one of the greatest services she rendered. Skilful though her -hands and brain had become at ministering to the wants of the wounded -bodies, her heart had grown still wiser in its knowledge of the larger -needs of the tried spirits of those who lay before her. Tender yet -bracing was the atmosphere which she carried everywhere with her. It -is the aura which to a greater or less degree surrounds every true -nurse, and Jane, in acquiring it, had but learned the rudiments of her -profession. Yet perhaps she had rather more than the ordinary capacity -for divination of the peculiar and individual necessities of the men -under her care, for certain it was that most of them preferred her to -any of the others, accomplished and devoted though they all were. It -is quite possible that the fact that she was, as the boys put it among -themselves, so “easy to look at,” may have accounted for a portion of -her popularity, but surely not for all. - -They did not stay long with her; it was a matter of but a few days in -most cases, before they were moved back to the Evacuation Hospital, -many miles in the rear. She had not time to get to know any of them -well; yet somehow in even that brief interval of experience she and -they usually arrived at a feeling of acquaintance which often became a -memory not to be forgotten. - -On this June night Jane found herself returning more than once to a -certain patient who had been brought in early in the evening suffering -from rather severe injuries. The surgeons had decided against immediate -operation; he was to be retained here only long enough to recover from -shock, and to be got into shape for the journey back to the Base. -He was only a boy, or looked so, in spite of the lines which pain -had brought into his face. He was not able to sleep, and for certain -definite reasons he had been given nothing to make him sleep. Each time -Jane came by she found him lying with eyes wide open; restless of body -his injuries did not permit him to be, for he was strapped and bandaged -into a well-nigh immovable position. Clearly his mind was doing double -duty, and being restless for both. - -As she stopped beside his cot again, he looked up at her and spoke, -for the first time. His eyes had followed her all night, whenever she -came in range, but she was used to that. Eyes wakeful at night always -follow a nurse; she is a grateful vision to men long removed from the -sight of women; the very lines of the uniform are restful to look at. -The face beneath the veil-like head-dress need not be a beautiful one -to be attractive; it needs only to be friendly and compassionate; if -it can show a capacity for humour, so much the better. In Jane’s case, -actual loveliness of feature drew the gaze of those tired young eyes, -many of which had seen only ugliness and horror for a long, long time. -The casualty cases thus far had been confined almost entirely to the -French and British, with an occasional American enlisted in a foreign -division. It was only within the last few days that the men from Jane’s -own country had begun to come under her care, showing that at last, as -they had so longed to be, they were “in.” - -This boy, beside whom Jane paused in her rounds, and who now spoke to -her, had had from the first something familiar about him. But she had -not been able to place him in her remembrance and had decided that it -was only the type she recognized, not the individual. Now, however, as -she bent to catch the low-spoken words, she realized what had happened; -here was a boy from home! - -“You don’t know me, do you?” he said, with difficulty. - -“I almost thought I did, but wasn’t sure. Do you come from my town and -ought I to know you? You see--you must have changed quite a bit.” - -She was looking intently into his face, and her reassuring smile -answered his wistful one. - -“No, I didn’t expect you to know me, but I--kind of hoped--you would. -I know you. You was there when I said I’d enlist--up on the hill.” - -Her thoughts leaped back to that last Sunday of Robert Black’s -departure and to the service on the hillside. Her face lighted with -recognition, and the boy saw it. - -“Oh, yes--I do remember--of course I do. I sewed a star on a service -flag for you and the other three who went from the hill, and took it up -to the schoolhouse before I went away. I think I know your name.” She -racked her memory hastily for it and found it, and the boy’s eyes were -suffused with joy as she spoke it. “Aren’t you--Enos Dyer?” - -“Yes, I’m Enie Dyer, only I don’t like to be called that over -here ‘cause it sounds like ‘Heinie.’ Say,”--he scanned her face -anxiously,--“know anything ’bout where the preacher is now?” - -“Mr. Black? Nothing at all. It is weeks since I had any news of him. -His division has been sent up toward the Front, and they may be in -things by now; we get only rumours here about what is happening on the -other sectors.” - -“I wish I knew,” he said anxiously. “I get to thinkin’ ’bout him a lot. -He didn’t know me any, but I knew him all right. After that time he -buried the Dunstan girl I used to come down to his church. I liked to -hear him talk. But I always skun out the minute things was over, so he -never really did lay eyes on me till that last day. I don’t s’pose he’d -remember me.” - -Jane would have liked to let him say more, to have questioned him -closely, herself eager to hear the least mention of the name which was -always in the background of her thoughts. But she knew that he must not -be allowed to use his feeble powers in this way. So after assuring him -that Black was not the man to forget the four boys from the hill who -had enlisted on that memorable day, she went on upon her rounds, her -own mind filled with the vivid recollections young Dyer’s words had -called up. - -But she could not come near him on this night without his eyes -imploring her to give him another word. So she learned that he was -most unhappy lest the injuries he had received prevent his return to -the Front, and was worrying badly about it. She became presently so -interested in his state of mind that she called the attention of one -of the surgeons to him. Doctor Mills read the record upon his cot-tag, -looked at Dyer keenly through his big horn spectacles, and smiled, his -own tired, thin face relaxing its tense look of care. - -“You’ll get back, my lad,” he said, “when they’ve fixed you up. With -that spirit you’ll get anywhere.” - -Enos Dyer’s lips trembled. “It’s all right, then,” he murmured, with a -sigh of relief. “I haven’t done nothin’ yet, an’ I figger to, ’fore I -get through.” - -“What were you doing when you got these?” The surgeon indicated Dyer’s -bandaged shoulder and his slung leg. - -“Just tryin’ a little job o’ my own, sir.” - -“Not under orders?” - -“Well, I guess I was under orders, sir--but the gettin’ through was -sort o’ up to me.” - -“I see. You’re a company runner?” - -“Yes, sir.” - -The surgeon went away. Jane did what she could to induce sleep for -Dyer, who needed it badly, but his eyes were still wide when dawn -drew near. By and by, as she came to give him water, which he drank -thirstily, he said slowly: - -“Did you hear the preacher the time he told about that feller Daniel in -’mongst the lions?” - -“No, I don’t think so, Enos.” - -“I was just wonderin’ if _he_ was in ’mongst ’em now anywheres. If he -is, I guess he won’t get hurt. I’ve thought about that story a lot -since I heard him tellin’ it. I guess if God could take care of anybody -when lions was walkin’ all ’round him, He could do it when anybody was -fightin’, don’t you? And I guess the preacher’s fightin’, wherever he -is.” - -Jane’s lips smiled a little. “Chaplains don’t fight, you know.” - -“I’ll bet _he_ does,” Dyer insisted. - -She didn’t try to change his conviction, but somehow it took hold of -her; and presently, in a strange hush that fell just before the dawn, -when there came a cessation of sound of the guns which usually were -to be heard clearly at this distance from the Front, she stood in -a doorway that faced the east and took a well-worn letter from her -pocket. In the faint light from within the ward her eyes once more -scanned lines she already knew by heart. - -Letters from Black had reached her infrequently and the latest was -dated weeks ago. Of course he could give her no details of his -movements, neither past nor expected; she understood also that he could -say little of that which was personal to himself and Jane. No man -writes for the scrutinizing eye of a censor that which he would say to -one alone. Yet somehow he had managed to convey a very vivid sense of -his presence, and of his constant thought of her, in the midst of his -work among his men. The last paragraph, especially, was one to stay by -her while she should have a memory, reserved though the words were: - -“I am very sure that in all this experience you are having you must -find the thing I so much want you to find. How can you escape it? It -is all around you. I can’t get away from it a minute. You know what -I mean. I never felt it so strongly, nor so depended upon it. Every -hour it is in my thought of you. You are well up toward the Front now, -I suppose. At any time a bomb may be dropped on your Hospital; it is -always a shining mark for the enemy. Yet I am not anxious about you. -For this I know:--whatever happens to you or me, it can do no harm to -the eternal thing which is ours.” - -She read the words again and again. Well she knew what they meant; in -spite of the restraint in them they were full to the brim with his -feeling toward her. Where was he now--near--or far? There had been a -rumour here that the division in which he served had been suddenly -rushed from its training trenches to the Front, in a desperate attempt -to stem the creeping enemy tide threatening to become a deluge and -wash away all defences. There were many rumours; few could be trusted. -But it might easily be true; he might at this very hour be under fire, -even though he remained in the shelter of trench or dugout. Would he -stay in such shelter? The question had never occurred to her in just -this form before. Her ideas of the duties of a regimental chaplain were -all based on the knowledge that he was a non-combatant, like Cary. She -had had far more fears for her brother, with his temperament, full of -recklessness and daring, than for Robert Black. But now, though she -scouted the idea of Black’s actually fighting, she had a sudden vision -of him in danger. If he had gone with his men up to those front lines, -where was he to-night? - -Suddenly the distant sky-line burst into flame before her eyes. She -had seen it before, that sky-line, during the months since she had come -to the Field Hospital, but always before it had been when she was too -busy to stop to look at it. Now, in the brief breathing space, she was -at leisure to study it in all its sinister significance, and to listen -to the distant thunder of the guns. - -He might not be there--she was very sure he was not, for the returning -wounded brought fairly accurate reports of what divisions were engaged -in the fighting in this sector. But somewhere--somewhere--on that -long, bending line, stretching over so many long miles, and now grown -so thin and in many places so dangerously weak compared with the ever -augmenting enemy forces--somewhere there he might be. According to that -persistent rumour the American troops who had been rushed forward were -at a point less than twenty miles away. Whatever happened, however, -none of them would come through this particular Field Hospital, and it -might be very long before she would know definitely how near Black had -been to actual danger. - -She looked at her little service watch--it was just past four. She -must go back: it would not be long now before the ambulances would be -rushing in with the fresh wounded sent back from that angry sky-line. -The stretcher-bearers would be setting their woeful burdens down before -her, and all she had to give must be theirs, for the hour. - -For a moment she closed her eyes. She still held the letter in her -hand; she lifted it and laid her cheek against it; then she pressed it -to her lips. - -“Oh, wherever you are,” she breathed, “I think you need me. I think you -are thinking of me. But whether you are or not--I’m there.--Oh, Robert -Black--_I’m there_!” - -In a narrow, winding, muddy ditch--which was all it was, though it -went by another name--with short, ladder-like places for the ascent of -its sides here and there, Robert Black was waiting, with a detachment -of his men, for a certain hour, minute and second previously fixed -by orders received in the early evening. He was at a crisis in his -experience which he had known would come some day, but it had been -long delayed. Now it was at hand. These men with whom he had been -stationed, throughout their voyage overseas, their foreign training, -and their slow and tedious progress toward the French Front, were about -to receive their first real test. At that fixed early morning hour they -were going for the first time “over the top.” - -By now Black knew most of them pretty well. In the beginning they had -received him cautiously, watching him closely, as a man who comes to -a regiment with a cross on his collar is bound to be watched. They -hadn’t particularly liked their former chaplain, whose place Black had -taken at almost the last hour before they sailed. This man had never -been able to get very near to them, though he had tried conscientiously -and persistently to do so. They weren’t exactly prejudiced against -chaplains--they supposed they were somehow necessary and unavoidable -adjuncts of military service--but they didn’t see so very much use -in having them at all. So when Black came they had looked him over -curiously and not without a certain amount of prejudgment. - -The voyage over had been a rough one; a large proportion of the men had -been seasick. Black, who had crossed the Atlantic many times on those -trips back home to see his mother, was a first-rate sailor, and he had -had his first chance with his men during those long days of storm and -wet and dark discomfort. He had made the most of it, though he had -taken care not to overdo the effort to bring cheer to those who if not -seasick were mostly homesick, whether they succeeded in concealing it -or not. He had gone about quietly but efficiently, and the impression -he had given had been that of one who had cast in his lot with his -regiment for better or for worse, though he wasn’t making any fuss -about it. - -When they had reached the other side and gone into camp, they soon -discovered that the first impression they had had of their chaplain -held; that he meant to share and share alike with them whatever fell -to their lot. Though he rated as captain and had therefore the right -to associate with the officers and to mess with them, he didn’t seem -to be spending much time at it. He was very good friends with those in -authority, who seemed to like him; but he apparently cared more about -making friends with the private in the ranks than with the Major, or -the Colonel commanding. He was not a joke-maker; he didn’t slap the -boys on the shoulder nor shout at them; but he carried about with him -an atmosphere of good cheer of a quiet sort. And when, now and then, it -came to a contest of wits, and somebody tried to put the chaplain in a -corner, he was sure to find his way out with a quick and clever retort -which brought the laugh without making things too uncomfortable for the -cornerer--unless he deserved it, in which case he was pretty sure to -wish he hadn’t spoken. - -As to preaching--they crowded to hear him, after the first tentative -experiment. The same unescapable logic, the same clear and challenging -appeal, the same unafraid plain-speaking which had won Redfield Pepper -Burns won these men--who were only boys after all. When it came to -the matter of preaching they were keen and merciless critics. They -didn’t want to be talked down to; they didn’t like to be beguiled into -listening with song and dance; they wanted a man if he were going to -speak to them at all to do it without mincing, or setting traps for -their attention. They wanted him to look like a man and act like a -man--and unequivocally and all the time _be_ a man. In the nature of -things, it wasn’t difficult for Robert Black to fill this bill. A -great many words have been written in the effort to tell what soldiers -want--if they want anything at all--from their chaplain. They are not -hard to satisfy, critical though they are and pitiless, when they -detect failure to measure up to their requirements. The greatest of -these requirements is certainly simple enough and just enough; it’s -only what is required of themselves, which is to be men and comrades, -to the last ditch. - -It was not the last ditch, but the first one, to which they had come -this night. The trench was like other trenches, but they had not been -in a front-line trench before; somehow it seemed different. The troops -whose place they had taken were worn and dog-weary, they had quitted -the place with evident satisfaction; they had held it five days after -they had expected to be relieved--it was a mighty good place to get out -of. And now, it was the new arrivals’ turn to face the music of the -shells and the machine-gun fire and the snipers’ bullets--and all the -rest that was waiting for them. Their chance had come at last. - -Black had been ordered to stay in the rear, but he had courteously -disputed the order, had had it out with his superior officer and had -been told to go along. This, he understood, was a mere matter of form, -to try him out. A chaplain had a perfect right to go where he would -with his men, provided he had the nerve. And why shouldn’t Black have -the nerve? He had been cultivating it for a good many years now, and -having been born in Scotland he had started out with rather more than -his share of it in the beginning. Besides, are shot and shell the only -things to try what a man is made of? - -The men in the trench liked having their chaplain with them; there -could be no doubt of that, though they by no manner of means said so. -They hadn’t been expecting to have him accompany them to the very -Front, and when he came along as a matter of course they were glad of -it. His uniform by now was quite as mud-stained and worn as theirs; -the only difference was that they were expecting to get bullet holes -in theirs, while his, they considered, with any sort of luck would be -kept intact. Even so, he was a good sport to stay by until the very -last moment, and they appreciated it. He was a comfortable sort to have -around. He wasn’t old enough to be the father of any of them, but he -was something like an older brother. And there was one thing about him -they very definitely enjoyed, and that was his smile. It wasn’t a broad -grin, but it was a mighty nice one, and when any man had said something -that brought that pleasant laugh to Bob’s lips, that man always felt -decidedly warm and happy inside. Because--well--the chaplain didn’t go -around grinning conscientiously at everybody all the while, and his -smile wasn’t the easiest thing in the world to win. Yes, the secret is -out--they called him “Bob” behind his back, and they called him that -because they liked him in that capacity of elder brother. To his face -they called him “Parson.” - -It was very still and dark in the trench; the raid was to start with -the opening of the barrage which would cover the advance. Night--and -darkness--and quiet--and the hour before dawn at which the courage of -the sons of men is at its lowest--no wonder that hearts beat fast and -faces slackened colour beneath the tan, and the minutes at once crawled -and raced. They were unquestionably nervous, these boys, hard as they -tried to keep cool as veterans. How would they acquit themselves?--that -was the thing that worried them. For the fact was that in this -particular company there was not one who had ever seen actual warfare; -they were all yet to be tried. - -Black went from one to another, taking whispered messages, hastily -scrawled notes, which they gave to him, and making clear his -understanding of the various requests. They all wanted to shake hands -with him, seeming to feel that this was the proper farewell to take of -him who was to stay behind. He wasn’t armed, though he wore a helmet -and gas mask, like themselves; his hands were free to take their -consignments, as his spirit was free to put courage into them. Not that -they realized that he was doing it; all they knew was that somehow -after they had had a word with him, and felt that warm handshake of -his, they knew that they were stronger. He believed in them--they -understood that--and they meant to measure up. That was about what his -presence amounted to, which was quite enough. - -One boy, a slender fellow, not long out of hospital where he had -been sent for a run of an epidemic disease, came to Black at almost -the last moment with a diffident question. “Parson,” he whispered, -“I want you to do something for me. If I--if I should get scared out -there--or anything--and the boys should know about it--and it got -around--or anything--I--I--wish you’d see it didn’t get back to my -Dad. He--always said I’d get over bein’--shaky--when the time came. -But--Parson, would you think it was awful wrong to--lie about it for me -a little? You see, it would cut Dad up like everything--and I couldn’t -bear----” - -Black put his lips close to the young ear. “I won’t have to lie, Joe,” -he said. “I haven’t the least doubt of you--not the least. Do you get -that? I’m telling you the absolute truth.” - -In the darkness Joe smiled. After a moment he whispered back. “Well, I -guess I’ll have to buck up,” he said. - -“You’ve bucked up now,” came back the whisper, and Black’s hand clasped -his arm tight for an instant. “What a muscle you’ve got, Joe!” he -declared. - -The arm stiffened, the muscle swelled. “You bet,” agreed the boy -proudly, and hitched up his cartridge belt. “That’s what trainin’ does -to a fellow. Well--good-by, Parson.” - -“God be with you, Joe! He will--remember that.” - -“Yes, sir--if you say so.” And Joe walked away, less “shaky” than he -had come. - -Then, presently, it was the “Zero” hour. With the first boom and crash -of the covering barrage the men were up and over the top. The farthest -man in the line was Joe. No, not the farthest, though Joe had been -assigned that place, for beyond and beside him, as he went over, was -Robert Black. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - -A SCARLET FEATHER - - - DEAR SIS: - - I’m going to cease setting down the big stuff for a space, while I - write to you. I’m just back with a whole skin from spending the night - up a tree watching this man’s army pull off a great stunt in the way - of a surprise for the enemy. I’ve sent off my stuff for my paper and - am now resting up--but a letter is due you, and I’ve found a way to - get it to you by special delivery. The messenger starts in half an - hour by motorcycle for your sector, and vows he’ll put it in your - hands as soon as he’s handed over his dispatches to the C. O. So I - can let myself go a bit--if I scrawl fast. - - I’ve had great luck this last month in meeting up with at least three - people whom you’ll like to hear about. First:--R. M. B.--by the - merest chance, for an hour later I’d have missed him. I simply turned - a corner in a little French town where I’d stopped with an officer - who was taking me with him up to the Front, and ran square into a - black-eyed chap with a cross on his collar who was so tanned and so - husky I didn’t snap to for a full minute. He did, though--and had me - gripped with a grip like a steel trap. “Cary Ray!” he shouted. I knew - the voice--I couldn’t forget that voice in a hurry--and of course - instantly then I knew the man. Jolly! Jane, you ought to see him. - - Well, he hadn’t a minute to spare for me, unless I’d go with him. - “Sure thing,” I agreed. “I’ve got an hour to spare while Major - Ferguson checks up with G. H. Q. here. What’s your little party?” - - “It’s a burial party,” said he, looking me in the eye, same as usual. - “If you haven’t had that particular experience, it won’t hurt you, - and on the way we can talk things over.” - - As it happened I’d passed up the funerals, thus far, being occupied - exclusively with the living and those on the other side I wanted - to see dead. Anyhow, it was worth it to have an hour with this - particular chaplain, whatever job he was at. So I went along. I - haven’t time to describe it to you here, but you can bet it rated - a special half column for my paper. It was a mighty simple little - affair, no frills, just a group of sober doughboys, a flag, some - wooden crosses, and a firing squad--_and_ R. M. B. reading the - service. But don’t you think “the Resurrection and the Life” didn’t - get over to us! - - On the way to the field and back I heard a great piece of news. - R. M. B.’s regiment had been sent back into rest billets, about a - fortnight before, and a group of entertainers had come through the - little town one evening and put on a show for them. It was some show, - and the bright particular star was--oh, you never could guess if - you hadn’t a clue, any more than I could. Well, it was Fanny Fitch! - Yes, sir--over here with a bunch of vaudeville people, going around - the leave areas and cheering up the boys before the next bout. You - should have heard the chaplain describing the song and dance; I never - should have thought it! Fanny can’t sing a whole lot--just enough - to get by, I judge; but dance she can, and jolly she does, and the - boys fall for it like rows of tenpins. The best of it, according to - R. M. B., is that she’s happy as a summer cloud doing her bit. Why, - she’s just plain got into the game, Sis, as I told her to do, and I - don’t know what more you can ask of anybody. You’re nursing, and the - chaplain’s preaching--and burying--and if he isn’t fighting before he - gets through I’ll be surprised, knowing how pugilistic he can be. And - I’m skirmishing on the edge of things with my fountain pen, and Fanny - Fitch is making eyes at the boys and warming the cockles of their - tired hearts--bless her heart! And why isn’t her job as good as any - of ours, since it helps the morale as it’s bound to do? All I know - is I’m going to tear things loose and get to see her as soon as I - can make it, lest some nervy shave-tail lieutenant get a line on her - while my back is turned. - - Time’s up. The third meet-up? You’d say it couldn’t happen, but it - did. It was a week earlier than this that I stood on the side of - the road and watched a couple of battalions march by on their way - to the training trenches in a quiet sector. And behold there was a - first lieutenant as _was_ a first lieutenant, and his name back in - the States was Tommy Lockhart! Talk about making a man of a man--you - ought to see our Tom! - - Luck to you and love to you---- - - Always your same old - - CARY. - -He finished it in a hurry, for the Colonel’s messenger could not be -kept waiting. After that he did some manipulating and manœuvring, which -in the end resulted, a few days later, in his getting the chance he -wanted. What Cary could not bring about in one way he could in another, -and more than one officer and man in authority, if he had owned up -honestly, would have had to admit that a certain war-correspondent -had a way of asking favours which it was somehow difficult to refuse. -Cary’s face was his fortune, for it was the face of a modest but -high-spirited non-combatant who was afraid of nothing so that he should -fulfil his commission. Usually he was asking to be sent to the most -active front, and pressing his case; so now when he wanted to make a -dash to the rear, without explaining why, those who could further his -request were glad to do so. It therefore presently came about that -young Ray made his trip in an official car, in the company of several -officers, with a number of hours to spare before the return in which -to hunt up a certain group of entertainers, which he meant to locate -or perish in the attempt. The more he thought about that “shave-tail -lieutenant” and others of his ilk, the more eager he was to remind -Fanny Fitch of his presence in this new world of hers. - -The hunt took so much time that it began to look as if Cary’s usual -luck had deserted him, when he came rather suddenly upon his quarry. -It was the edge of the evening, and the edge of a French town in which -was quartered a division on its way to the Front. A big audience of -men was seated on the grass watching a performance taking place on -an improvised platform, lighted with flaring torches. At the moment -of Cary’s arrival a young violinist was playing softly a series of -haunting Scottish airs, and a hush had fallen over the listeners which -spoke of dangerous susceptibility at a time when men must not be -permitted to grow soft with dreams. But before this state of mind had -had a chance to make serious inroads, the fiddler changed his tune. -He dashed without warning into a popular marching song, a lad with a -concertina leaped upon the stage, and a girl in a scarlet skirt, a -black velvet coat, and cap with a long, scarlet feather, ran out from -a sheltering screen. In her arms she carried a great flaming bunch of -poppies, and over them she laughed down at her audience. Standing on -the step below the stage she began to sing. - -It was just such a song as Cary Ray--and most of the boys before -him--had heard a thousand times. The singer, as he had written Jane, -had no real voice for singing, only a few clear tones which, the moment -the notes of the song took her above or below the middle register, -became forced and breathy; but somehow that didn’t much matter. She had -a clear enunciation, she had youth and a delightfully saucy smile, and -she had--well--what is it which makes all the difference between one -such performer and another--that elusive quality which none can define, -but which all can recognize? Spirit, dash, beauty--they were all -there--and something else--something new--something irresistible. What -was it? Trying to discover what it was, Cary gradually made his way -forward, slipping from one position to another through the seated ranks -without ever lifting his body high enough to attract attention. Nearer -and nearer he came to the front, and clearer and clearer grew his view -of Fanny’s laughing face. He didn’t want her to recognize him so he -kept his own face well in shadow, though he knew that in the torchlight -her audience must be to her mostly a blur of watching eyes and smiling -lips, and masses of olive-drab. He came to a halt at length well -sheltered behind a young giant of a corporal, around whose shoulder -he could peer in safety. And then he looked for all he was worth at -the girl who was holding these boys in the grip of her attraction, and -doing with it what she would. - -And what was she doing with it? What could Fanny have been expected to -do? It was undoubtedly her chance to capture more masculine admiration -in the lump than had ever been her privilege before. There were a -goodly number of officers in her audience, mostly lounging in the -rear of the ranks upon the grass, but none the less for that foemen -worthy of her steel. She had every opportunity to use her fascinations -with one end, and only one, in view. In satisfying her own love of -excitement, she could easily, under the guise of entertainment, do -these boys in uniform more harm than good. To tell the honest truth it -was with this fear in mind that Cary now watched her. Great as had been -her attraction for him in the past, so great did he expect it to be for -these others now--and it had not been possible in that past for him to -fail to recognize the subtle nature of that attraction. - -He studied her from the shelter of the broad shoulder in front of him -with the eyes of a hawk. Let Fanny give these young Americans one look -which was not what Cary Ray wanted it to be, and he would steal away -again as quietly as he had come and never let her know. He wasn’t -sure that “R. M. B.” would have recognized what he himself would, in -the situation; and the fact that Black had spoken with such hearty -praise of Fanny’s performance hadn’t wholly served to reassure him. -She had known from the beginning that the chaplain was present in her -audience--that would make a difference, of course. She didn’t know now -who was here; Cary would see her exactly as she was. It was no chaplain -who was watching her now, it was an accredited war-correspondent with -every faculty of observation at the alert, his memory trained to keep -each impression vivid as he had received it. - -It was a long time that Fanny was upon the rough stage, for her -audience couldn’t seem to have enough of her. Again and again they -recalled her, having hardly let her pass from sight. It was difficult -to analyze the absorbing interest of her “turn,” made up as it was, -like patchwork, of all sorts of unexpected bits. Song and story, parade -and dance--one never knew what was coming next, and when it did come -it might be the very slightest of sketches. It was very evidently her -personality which gave the whole thing its attraction; in less clever -hands it might have fallen flat. Yet through it all seemed to run one -thread, that of genuine desire to bring good cheer without resort to -means unworthy. - -Yes, that was what Cary had to concede, before he had looked and -listened very long. Though she was using every art which he had known -she possessed, and some he hadn’t known of, she was doing it in a way -to which he could not take exception. Though he was becoming momently -more jealous of all those watching eyes because he could see how -delighted they were, he grew surer and surer that Fanny was definitely -and restrainedly doing the whole thing as the boys’ sisters might have -done it, if their sisters had been as accomplished as she. His heart -warmed to her as it had never warmed before. After all, Cary said to -himself, this war had done something splendid to Fanny Fitch as well as -to everybody else. She wasn’t a vampire, she was a good sport, and she -was playing up, playing the game, with the very best that was in her, -just as R. M. B. had said. And Cary was glad; he was gladder than he -had ever been about anything. - -The moment she had finally left the stage, and the sleight-of-hand -man who was the other member of the little company had secured the -reluctant attention of the audience, loth to let Fanny go, Cary wormed -his way to one side and out of the torchlight into the clear darkness -now fully fallen. He went around behind the screen, and found a slim -figure in scarlet and black sitting with violinist and concertinist -upon a plank, placed across two boxes. An older woman with a plain -face and fine eyes looked up at Cary and shook her head at him with a -warning smile. Evidently she was in charge, and very much in charge, of -this girl who was travelling about France with men performers among so -many men in uniform. But before she could send him away Fanny herself -had looked up from a letter she was reading by a flash-light the little -concertinist was holding for her. - -She sprang up with a smothered exclamation of joy and came to him. The -older woman rose also and followed her. Fanny turned to her. - -“It’s an old friend, Mr. Ray--Mrs. Burnett.” She made the introduction -under her breath, for at the moment the audience on the other side -of the screen was silent, watching a difficult trick. “He’s a -war-correspondent, and I’m sure hasn’t long to stay. Please let me talk -with him, just outside here.” - -So, in a minute, when Cary had disarmed the duenna with his frank and -friendly smile, he led Fanny a stone’s-throw away, just out of the -flare of the torches, and looked down into her face. - -“Well,” he said, “here we are! And you’re playing the game, for all -that’s in it. I’m pleased as Punch that you’ve come along. Tell me all -about it, quick. I’ve got to be back in the car that brought me in half -an hour, not to delay Colonel Brooks.” - -“Then there isn’t time to tell you all about it,” Fanny answered, “and -there’s nothing to tell, either, except what you see. I am very happy -to be of use--as I think I am.” - -“I should say you were. I’ve been watching you for a full half-hour, -and I never saw a jollier stunt put over. In that red and black you -beat anything in pink and white I ever saw--to speak figuratively. You -see--I’ve only seen you in pink and white, before!” - -Fanny laughed. “And I’ve never before seen you in olive-drab. You’re -perfectly stunning, of course. How did you know I was here--or didn’t -you know?” - -“The chaplain of the ----th told me,” Cary explained, watching her. - -“Oh, yes!” Fanny’s eyes met his straightforwardly. She was made up -for the stage but he didn’t mind that, because he knew it had to be. -“It was so strange to see him, in uniform. He’s looking every inch a -soldier, isn’t he?--even though he’s not one.” - -“I’m not so sure he isn’t. Yes, he’s great--and you’re greater! It’s -all in the nature of things that he should come over and do his bit, -but you could hardly have been expected to do yours.” - -“Why not? Just because I’ve always been a frivolous thing, is that any -reason why I shouldn’t sober down now and be useful?” - -Cary smiled. “You don’t look exactly sobered down, you know,” he told -her, glancing from the dashing scarlet feather in the little cap set at -an angle on her blonde head, to the high-heeled scarlet slippers on her -pretty feet. - -“Oh, but I am. I’m giving myself more seriously to being a little fool -than I ever did to trying to seem wise.” - -“And in doing it, you’re wisest of all!” Cary exulted. “Fanny--I’ve -something to tell you. I wouldn’t have been sure once, whether it was -something that would give you pleasure to hear or not, but--yes--I’m -fairly sure now. You knew--you must have known, what I used to be, -though you didn’t see much of me till that was pretty well over. I -want you to know that--it’s all over now. I’ve had every sort of test, -as you may imagine, since I left Jane--and Mr. Black, and Doctor -Burns--the people who stood by me when I was down--and I haven’t given -in once. Perhaps I will give in, some day, but I don’t think it. You -see--I can’t disappoint them. And--I’d like to think--you care too -whether--I make good.” - -A great burst of applause came from the ranks upon the grass, followed -by a roar of laughter. Cary drew Fanny a step or two farther away, -though they two were already in deep shadow, made the deeper by -contrast with the circle of radiance cast by the torches. - -“Of course, I care,” she answered, and he strained his eyes in the -darkness in the effort to see her face. “Cary, I want _you_ to know -that--ever so many things look different to me, over here. I--perhaps -you won’t believe it, but it’s true--absolutely true--that when I face -an audience like that one out there I feel like--almost like--a mother -to those boys. And I just want to--be good to them--and help them -forget the hard things they’ve seen, for a little while.” - -He could have laughed aloud, at the idea of ever hearing anything like -this from the lips of Fanny Fitch. Yet, somehow, he could not doubt -that there was truth in the astonishing words, and it made him very -happy to hear them. There had been that in her performance, as he had -observed, which gave strong colour to this point of view. Certainly, -the experience of being close to the heart of the great struggle was -doing strange things to everybody. Why should it not have worked this -miracle with her? - -“Fanny--” he felt for her hand, and took it in both his, while he -stooped lower to speak into her face,--“do you know that you and I -are a lot alike? It’s supposed to be that people who are alike should -steer clear of each other, but I’m not so sure. You and I are always -keyed-up to a pitch of adventure--we like it, it’s the breath of life -to us. I can understand it in you--you can, in me. Why shouldn’t we -go after it--together? Why couldn’t we make a wonderful thing of our -lives, doing things together? Why, if I could have made an airman, for -instance--as I’d have liked mightily to do if I hadn’t been a newspaper -man and had my job cut out for me--I can imagine your being ready to -go up with me and take every chance with me--you could be just that -sort of a good fellow. And even on the every-day, plain ground--why, -dear--if you cared----” - -Fanny was silent for a minute, and he could see that she was looking -away from him, toward the boys on the grass, and the stage, and the -torches. - -“I want to go on doing this, while the war lasts,” she said, “as long -as I can hold out.” - -“Of course you do. And I want to go on with my job. We’re both taking -chances. I don’t suppose a shot will get you--but--one might get me.” - -“It might get me, too. I’m going next to some of the hospitals, and -they are shelled sometimes, aren’t they?” - -“Sure thing. And the funny thing is, I shouldn’t want you not to go, -any more than you’d want to keep me in safe places. Isn’t that true?” - -“Yes!” She whispered it. - -“Then,” he argued triumphantly, “doesn’t that prove that we’re fit -mates? And if we just knew that we belonged to each other, wouldn’t -that--oh, don’t mind my saying it that way--wouldn’t that put a lot -more _punch_ into our work?” - -“It might.” - -He well remembered that delicious little laugh of hers; it had never -delighted him more than it did now. - -“Not that yours needs any more punch,” he went on, rather deliriously, -in his joy. It certainly did give zest to a man’s wooing to know that a -few paces away were several hundred rivals in admiration of his choice. -Not one of those fellows but would have given his eyes to be standing -back here in the shadow with the girl of the scarlet feather! “Punch! I -should say so. How you did put it over! And all the while I wanted to -jump up and yell--‘Keep your distance--she’s _mine_!’” - -“Oh--but you weren’t as sure as that!” Fanny tried to withdraw her hand. - -But Cary held it fast. “No, I wasn’t sure, not by a darned sight. I’m -not sure yet--except of one thing. And that’s if you send me away -to-night _not_ sure I’ll go to pieces with unhappiness and my work’ll -run a fair chance of going to pieces too. Heaven knows when I’ll see -you again, with the scrap getting hotter all the time. I don’t mean to -play on the pathetic, but--well--you know as well as I do that this is -war-time--and I’m green with jealousy of every doughboy who’ll see you -from now on----” - -He hardly knew what he was saying now. The violinist had begun to play -again. The boys on the grass had fallen silent. The torches flared and -fell and flared again in the light breeze which had suddenly sprung up. -In a minute more he must go; he must run no risk of making the car-load -of officers wait for him. - -Fanny lifted her face and spoke to him in a whisper. “Cary, will you -promise _me_--that you’ll never--go back to the old--ways?” - -“Oh, I’d _like_ to promise you!” he whispered back eagerly. “I want to. -That will make it surer than sure--if I can promise _you_. I do promise -you--on my honour--and before--God.” - -They stood a moment in silence again, then Cary flung his arms around -her and felt hers come about his neck. - -“I want to promise you something, too,” her voice breathed in his ear. -“I’ll never, never face an audience like this without--remembering that -you might be in it. And I’ll play--as you would like me to. Didn’t -I--to-night--without knowing?” - -“Oh, my dear!” How could she have known, and given him what he wanted -most? “Yes, you did--bless you! And I’ll trust you, as you’ll trust me. -Oh, I didn’t know how much I loved you, till you said that. Fanny--we -were meant for each other--I know we were!” - -Every man has said it, and Cary was as sure as they. Perhaps he was -right--as right as they. Anyhow, as he went away, he was gloriously -happy in the thought that though those hundreds on the grass might -thrill with pleasure as the girl with the scarlet feather came out to -sing them her farewell song, not one of them all could know as he did, -that behind the enchanting gayety beat a real heart, one that belonged -only to a certain war-correspondent, already many miles away! Surely, -if she could trust him, he could trust her, and mutual trust, as all -the world knows, is the essential basis for every human relation worth -having. On this basis, then, was this new relation established; and the -augury for the future was one on which to count with hope--even with -confidence. - - - - -CHAPTER XX - -A HAPPY WARRIOR - - -The Field Hospital in which Jane was at work was now seeing its busiest -days. A steady stream of wounded men poured into it, day and night, -frequently augmented after a serious engagement at the Front by such -a torrent of extra cases that every resource was heavily overtaxed. -Surgeons and nurses worked to the limit and beyond it; they kept on -long after they should have been released. In Jane’s whole experience -in this place no doctor or nurse ever gave up and was sent to the rear -until actually forced to do so, by pure physical inability longer -to continue. It was amazing how endurance held out, when the need -was great, by sheer force of nerve and will. Yet the strain told, -and it showed more and more in the worn faces of those upon whom the -responsibility fell heaviest. - -At a time when the situation was most trying, and the whole hospital -force was exhausting itself with effort to cover the demand, a visitor -appeared upon the scene who changed the face of things in an hour. He -was a surgeon from a famous Base Hospital, himself distinguished both -in America, from which he came, and in France, where he had been long -serving far in advance of most of his countrymen. He had chosen to -spend a brief leave from his work in visiting various Field Hospitals -and Casualty Clearing Stations, and on account of his reputation for -remarkable success in his own branch of regional surgery his visits had -been welcomed and made the most of by his colleagues in the profession. - -Arriving at this particular Field Hospital he found its operating rooms -choked with cases, its surgeons working in mad haste to give each man -his chance for life, in spite of the rush; its nurses standing by to -the point of exhaustion. Their forces had been depleted that very day -by the sudden and tragic loss of their Chief, who at the conclusion -of an incredible number of hours of unceasing labour at the operating -table had dropped quietly at the feet of his assistants and been -carried out, not to return. He was a man beyond middle age, a slender -gray-haired hero of indomitable will, who had known well enough that -he was drawing upon borrowed capital but had withheld none of it on -that account. His removal from the head of his forces had had no outer -effect upon them except to make them redouble their efforts to fill the -gap; but not a man nor woman there who was not feeling the weaker for -the loss. - -It was at this hour that Doctor Leaver, looking in upon the shambles -that the operating room had become, and recognizing the tremendous -need, a need greater than he had left behind, took off his coat, put on -the smeared gown in which Doctor Burnside had fallen at his post--there -was not a clean one to be had in the depleted supply room--and -went quietly to work. He waited for no authority from anywhere; he -was needed for hurt and dying men, and there was no time to lose. -Comparatively fresh because of his brief vacation from his own work, -experienced beyond any of the men who had been the Chief’s associates, -he assumed the control as naturally as they gave it to him. - -“By George! I never saw anything like this!” burst smotheredly from the -lips of one of the younger surgeons, as he received certain supplies -from Jane’s hands. “Talk about rapid work!--Why, the man’s lightning -itself. He’s speeded us all up, though we thought we were making a -record before. If anybody’d told me this morning that before night I’d -be fetching and carrying for Leaver of Baltimore, I’d have told him no -such luck. Why, say--I thought I was tired! I’m fresh as a mule, as -long as he stands there.” - -Doctor Leaver remained for five days, until a man to take the dead -Chief’s place could be found. During that period he stopped work only -to snatch a few hours’ rest when he could best be spared--if such -intervals ever came. His tall, sinewy figure and lean, aquiline face -became the most vitally inspiring sight in the whole place, the eyes -of surgeons, nurses, and patients resting with confidence upon this -skilful quiet man who did such marvellous things with such assured ease. - -“Why,” one nurse declared to Jane, as the two made ready trays of -instruments just from the sterilizer, “it seems as if he had only to -look at a case that’s almost gone to have it revive. I’ve got so that I -shall expect to see the dead sit up, pretty soon, if he tells them to. -That red-headed boy over there--I wouldn’t have said he had one chance -in a million to recover from shock, two hours ago, when he came in. And -now look at him--smiling at everybody who comes near him!” - -“Yes, Doctor Leaver is wonderful,” Jane agreed, “But remember who he -is--one of the very most famous American surgeons we have over here. -And modern surgery does do miracles--in the right hands. I never cease -to wonder at it.” - -One nurse was like another to the busy chief surgeon, or so it -seemed--they couldn’t be sure that he would ever know any of them again -if he saw them after this was over. But on the fourth day of his stay, -as somebody called sharply--“Miss Ray!”--Jane noted that he looked -suddenly over at her with that quick, penetrating glance of his which -was keeping everybody on the jump. That same evening, during the first -lull--or what might be called that--which had occurred for hours on -end, he came to her. - -“I have a message for you, Miss Ray,” he said, “if you are the Miss Ray -who comes from the same part of the States as a young man named Enos -Dyer.” - -“Oh, yes, Doctor Leaver.” Jane looked up eagerly. - -“Come out here, please, where we can talk a minute,” and the tall -surgeon led her across the ward to an open door. He paused beside her -in this doorway, drawing in deeply the cool damp air which poured in -from outside, for the night like so many nights in France was wet. He -passed his hand across his brow, smoothing back the dark, straight -hair, moist with his unceasing labours. - -“My word, but that feels good!” he said. “There are places in the -world still, that don’t smell of carbolic and ether.” And he smiled at -Jane, who smiled back. “How many hours’ sleep have you had in the last -forty-eight?” he questioned suddenly, eyeing understandingly the violet -shadows beneath her eyes. - -“As many as you--or more--Doctor Leaver,” she answered lightly. “I’ve -learned to do without, now--as you did, long ago.” - -“Nobody ever learns to do without. Get some to-night, please, without -fail.” - -“You sound like a surgeon I know back home,” she said. She knew he -would welcome a bit of relaxation from discipline during this brief -interval of rest. - -“Who? Red Pepper Burns?” - -“Indeed, yes! How could you know?” she asked, though less surprised -than she might have been if she had not already had many strange -encounters, here in this land of strangers. - -“He’s the best friend I have in the world--as he is that of plenty of -other people. If you know him, Miss Ray, you understand that my heart -warms at the very mention of him.” - -She nodded. “You knew how he wanted to come over?” - -“Yes! Hard luck. I wanted him badly with me. But he’s represented over -here, Miss Ray, in the best way a man can be, short of actual personal -service. I learned from him a method of overcoming traumatic shock -which is more effective than any I’ve found in use here. It’s about -our most difficult problem, you know. I scouted Burns’ theory in the -beginning, but I’ve had a great chance to try it out over here, and -it certainly does save some pretty desperate cases. If I can ever get -a minute to write I’ll tell him a few things that will make him very -happy.” - -“I am so glad,” she said--and looked it. - -“Now for my message. Back at Base I had a case that interested me -mightily, not so much pathologically as psychologically. This boy -Dyer was under my hands for a number of weeks--he’s back at the Front -now--and a more naïve, engaging youngster from the back country I never -knew. He had us all interested in him, he was so crazy to be under fire -again. You had him here, I believe, on his way out.” - -“Yes, Doctor. I shall always remember him.” - -“And he, you, evidently. A number of weeks ago he heard me say that I -intended to take this trip, and he figured it out that I might meet -you. So he sent you this message, with instructions to me to deliver -it somehow or answer to him.” He smiled over the recollection as he -drew out a small paper. “Dyer could get away with more impudence--or -what would be called that from anybody else--than any boy I ever saw. -But it wasn’t really that--it was his beautiful faith that everybody -was on his side, including the Almighty. He had an unshakeable and -touching belief that God would see him through everything and permit -him to render some big service before he was through. And since he -hadn’t had his chance to do that yet, it followed as the night the day -that he must get back to the Front and do it. I admit I came to feel -much the same way about him myself. And when he gave me this message I -understood that it must be delivered at any cost. So--without any cost -at all--here it is.” - -Jane received the folded paper with a curious sense of its importance, -though it came from the most obscure young private in the A. E. F. With -a word of apology she opened it, feeling that Doctor Leaver would like -to know something of its contents, if they were communicable. After a -moment during which she struggled with and conquered a big lump in her -throat, she handed it to him. He read it with a moved face, and gave it -back with the comment: - -“That’s great--that’s simply great! Thank you for letting me see.” - -The message was written in a cramped, boyishly uncertain hand, but -there was nothing uncertain about the wording of it: - - MISS RAY, - - DEAR FRIEND: - - This is to tell you that it took longer than I expected to get me - fixed up again but I am all O. K. now and never better and I am off - for the place where things is doing. You know from what I said that - I think there is something for me to do that nobody else could and I - am going to do it if God lets me. Not that I think I am a Daniel but - there sure is lions and just now they seem to be roaring pretty loud - and I can’t get there too soon. I want to ask you to pray for me not - that I won’t be afraid for I am not afraid but that I’ll be let to - do something worth coming over here for. The preacher Mr. Black said - that God always hears if we have anything to say to Him and I think - He would hear you speshally--because anybody would. This leaves me - well and hoping you are the same. - - Your friend, - PRIVATE ENOS DYER. - -“I suppose you have no idea where he is now,” Jane said, as she -carefully put away the paper. - -“Yes, I have an idea.” The surgeon was looking off now into the night -outside. Gusts of wind blew the rain into his face, but he seemed to -welcome its refreshing touch. “I had a word with a young artilleryman -just now on whom I operated yesterday for a smashed elbow joint. He -doesn’t mind that in the least, but the thing he does mind is that he’s -sure his ‘buddy,’ as he calls him, ‘Enie Dyer,’ was in that battalion -of the ----nth Division that has just been wiped out. It had taken -the objective it was sent for, and this boy has had to help shell -the position where Dyer would have been if the battalion hadn’t been -sacrificed. His idea is that it was a perhaps inevitable sacrifice, but -the thought that he might have been pouring lead and steel in on his -friend, still alive and hiding in a shell-hole, has got on his nerves -till he’s all in pieces. He’s a giant physically, but Dyer is twice his -size, nevertheless.” - -“I’ll find him,” said Jane. She felt suddenly weak with dread. She had -caught rumours before now of the battalion which had not been heard -from and which seemed to have vanished from the earth, but she had no -idea that anyone in whom she was especially interested had been among -that ill-fated number. She had known young Dyer but a few days, yet -he had made upon her one of the most deeply disturbing impressions of -her experience. His own personality, reinforced by her knowledge that -he owed this simple trust of his to Robert Black, had combined to make -the thought of him a poignant one. As she went back to her work she -realized that Dyer was not to be out of her mind until the question of -his whereabouts was settled--if it could be settled. - -And meanwhile--what was it that he had bade her do for him? - - * * * * * - -It was three days later that the rumour reached the Hospital that the -battalion which had been supposed to be wiped out had been heard from. -Two runners had come through the enemy’s lines, it was said, and had -brought word that what was left of the four companies which formed the -battalion was under constant barrage fire from the guns of its own -side. The barrage had been stopped, rescue was on its way; the daring -men who had brought the word would shortly be here to be fixed up--they -had been completely exhausted when they arrived. - -The artilleryman sat up in bed. He waved his good right arm and -shouted, before anybody could restrain him: - -“I’ll bet Enie Dyer’s one of ’em! I’ll bet he’s one of ’em! Darn his -hide, he’d get through hell itself if he started to. He’d never know -when he was beat--he never did. He wouldn’t know it if a seventy-five -hit him--he’d tell it he had to be gettin’ along where he was goin’, -and he’d pull it out and leave it layin’ where ’twas! I vum----” - -A burst of joyous laughter from all down the ward greeted this triumph -of the imagination. Then Jane laid him gently down upon his back -again--he had other injuries than the smashed elbow joint, and sitting -up wouldn’t do for him yet. In his ear she whispered, “I think it’s -Enie too, somehow. But we mustn’t be too sure yet. Just try to wait -quietly.” - -“Yes, ma’am.” He owned her supremacy as they all did. But for the -next twenty-four hours he hardly rested and never slept. Jane shared -his vigil, while reports continued to arrive, some adding to their -confidence, others taking it away. Finally, they knew that it was all -true and the lost was found--what there was left of it. - -And then came Enos Dyer, and the Polish boy who had been his companion. -Five days without food before starting, eight hours on the trip, -exhausted but game, they were brought back to the Field Hospital for -the rest that was imperative, and the treatment of minor injuries. That -night Jane sat beside Dyer’s bed and listened to his account, because -he was too happy to be suppressed until he had told her the outlines. -She looked at his thin, exalted face, and saw the lines and hollows -that hunger and fatigue had brought there, but saw still more clearly -the triumph of spirit over body. She had managed that he should lie in -a bed next his big friend, and between the reunited pair she felt like -a happy warrior herself. - -“Why, it was the _thing_, to start in the day time,” insisted Enos, in -reply to big Johnny’s comment on the foolhardiness of this choice. “All -the runners that tried it before in the night got killed or wounded, -and somebody’d got to try the thing a different way. I figgered out -that in the day time when there ain’t any scrap on, the enemy’s always -half asleep, they’re so sure they can see everything that’s goin’ on. -Nights everybody on both sides is keyed-up like jack-rabbits, expectin’ -trouble. But day times--why they’s nothin’ to it--if they don’t happen -to see you.” - -Johnny chuckled: “No, _if_ they don’t!” - -“You see,” Enos went on, “we made things safe by leavin’ behind our -helmets and gas masks and rifles----” - -“Leavin’ ’em behind! Why, you’d need ’em.” - -“Not much we didn’t. Tin hats hit on stones and ring out, when you’re -crawlin’, and rifles and masks get in your way. One officer stopped us, -though, and told us to go back and get ’em. I didn’t want to, so I went -back to the Major and told him so. He said, ‘Don’t you want ’em?’ And I -said, ‘No, sir, we don’t,’ and he laughed and said, ‘All right, go as -you like.’ He was the same that told me when I and Stanislaus asked to -go that ‘_if_ we got through we was to----’ ‘_If_ we get through----’ -I says to him--‘we’re _goin’_ to get through! If God could take care -of Daniel in that lions’ den, I guess He can of us.’ He looked at me a -minute, and then he says; ‘You’ll make it.’” Enos laughed gleefully. -“Nothin’ like standin’ up to an officer,” he said, by way of throwing a -side-light on the affair. Jane thought of Doctor Leaver, and wished he -had not gone back to his Base Hospital, and could hear. - -“Well, that’s about all there was to it.--Gee, but this pillow does -feel good under a fellow’s head!--We crawled down the hill, and across -the valley, and we crossed a road three times, right under them -Fritzies’ noses, and they never see us. Quite a lot of times I thought -they sure had seen us, and was comin’ straight for us, but we laid -low, and every time they’d turn off before they got to us, just as -if----” his eyes met Jane’s and looked straight into them--“a hand was -holdin’ back the lions. I knew then just as sure that we’d get through. -We crossed three wire entanglements, and two German trenches, and we -run right onto a sniper’s post, only the sniper wasn’t there--gone -off for water or somethin’, not thinkin’ there was anythin’ to snipe -in broad daylight. About dark it begun to rain--and it got black as a -pocket. We was soaked through. But we kep’ a-comin’, and quite awhile -after dark we got near our own lines.” - -He paused and drew a long breath. Jane laid an exploring finger on -his pulse, but it was not unduly excited or more weak than was safe. -Johnny, propping himself upon his uninjured elbow, had to be made to -lie down again. - -“Gee!” muttered the artilleryman, “that was about the worst of all. -They keep an awful lookout, our fellows do. Wonder they didn’t shoot -you.” - -“We thought of that,” admitted Enos mildly, “so we decided to keep a -talkin’ as we come near, so they could hear we was English-speakin’. So -we did. The outpost heard us and challenged us, and we told our story. -They was bound to make sure we wasn’t spies, so they kep’ askin’ us -questions. By and by they called the corporal of the guard, and after -he’d asked us forty-’leven more questions he took us back to Regimental -Headquarters, and there was some officers there that I’d see before. -I was surprised that they remembered me, but they did.”--Jane was not -surprised to hear this.--“And then, well, there wasn’t anything too -good for us. They had some chow heated up for us, and they told us -we could have the best there was to sleep on--and we did--only the -best there was was the floor,” he explained with a laugh. “This bed -certainly feels good,” he added. - -That was his whole story of an exploit which had saved a battalion. -Seven hundred men had gone forth to take the objective, two hundred and -twenty-seven of them had been able to walk out, when the rescue came. -The chances of a runner getting through the enemy lines by which the -men were surrounded had been desperate ones, and Dyer had taken them -and had come through without a hair of his head having been touched. - -He turned to Jane, lowering his voice. “Did you ever get my letter I -sent you?” he asked. - -“Yes, Enos. Doctor Leaver brought it to me.” - -“I knew it,” he said triumphantly. “I knew you was prayin’ for me to -get my chance, or I wouldn’t have got it so easy.” - -Jane’s eyes fell before his. - -“You did do what I asked, didn’t you?” he insisted, confidently. - -She shook her head. “No, I didn’t pray for that, Enos. All I could -think of was that you might come through safely.” - -“And _that_ was what you prayed for?” - -She nodded. - -“Why, _that_ wasn’t the big thing!” he cried, under his breath. -“Except, of course--if us fellows didn’t get through the rest of ’em -wouldn’t. Oh, yes, of course, that was what you did have to pray for, -and I’m glad you did. It’s wonderful how it works out, things like -that!” - -She stole away presently, forbidding either of the two friends to -exchange any further talk that night. The place was a little quieter -to-night, though by to-morrow the wounded from the rescued battalion -would be brought in and everything would speed up again. She went -outside the hospital and found a sheltered corner where in the darkness -she could be alone--until somebody should come by. The rain had -stopped, the clouds had broken away; a myriad stars filled the sky. - -After a time she took from her pocket her pen and a letter blank, and -coming around where she could get a faint light from a window upon her -paper slowly wrote these words, afterwards folding and sealing the -letter and addressing it. - - I know, at last, that you are right. I don’t understand it yet--but I - believe it. Somebody does hear--and it is possible to speak to Him. I - have learned the way through a boy from the “hill” where we went that - last Sunday afternoon. He says you taught him--and now he has taught - me. You were right when you said that I would find it all around me - here. I have, but it took this dear, wise boy to make it real to - me--as you made it real to him. So--it has come through you after - all, and I am very, very glad of that. - - God keep you safe, Robert Black,--I pray for it on my knees. - - JANE. - -It was two days afterward that a despatch reached her from Dr. John -Leaver, back at his Base Hospital, near Paris. - - Operated to-day Chaplain Black ----nth Regiment ----nth Division, - severe shrapnel wounds shoulder and thigh. Doing well. - - LEAVER. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - -A PEAL OF BELLS - - -By the time that a certain note of a few lines, written outside a Field -Hospital window in France, had reached a certain Base Hospital, many -miles away, Robert Black was able to open his own mail, for a fortnight -had gone by. He was so fortunate as to have two other letters in this -mail, a happening which of itself would have made the rainy day much -less dismal. But to find this particular handwriting upon the third -envelope was enough to flood the ward with light--for him, though to -some others, near him, who had had no letters, it remained a sombre -place, as before. - -He kept this third letter unopened till the morning dressings were -over, the carts of surgical supplies had ceased to move through the -ward, and the surgeons and nurses had left behind them patients soothed -and made comfortable and ready for the late morning nap which followed -naturally upon the pain and fatigue of the dressings. Then, when his -neighbours in the beds on either side were no longer observant, Black -drew out the single sheet, feeling an instant sense of disappointment -that the lines were so few. Then--he read them, and his regret was -changed in an instant to a joy so profound that he could only lie -drawing deep breaths of emotion, as he stared out of a near-by window -at tossing tree tops dripping with rain, against the sky of lead. The -sky for him had opened, and let through a sea of glory. - -Again and again, after a little, his eager eyes re-read the words, so -few, yet so full of meaning. Among them certain lines stood out: - - I know, at last, that you are right. I don’t understand it yet--but - I believe it. Somebody does hear--and it is possible to speak to - Him---- You were right when you said that I would find it all around - me here---- It took this dear, wise boy to make it real to me--as you - made it real to him---- So--it has come through you, after all---- - God keep you safe, Robert Black--I pray for it on my knees. - - JANE. - -It was well for him that this stimulus came when it did, for within -twenty-four hours arrived another message of the sort which is not good -for convalescents. Cary Ray sent a scrawl of a letter from some post -upon the Front, which was three weeks in getting through, so that the -news it contained was already old. Black read it, and then turned upon -his pillow and hid his face in his arm. When his fellow patients saw -that face again, though it was composed, and the Chaplain’s manner was -as they had known it all along, not a man but understood that he had -had a heavy blow. By and by he asked for his writing tablet and pen, -and they saw him slowly write a short letter. These were the words he -wrote: - - MY DEAR MR. AND MRS. LOCKHART: - - I wish that this word I send you might be the first to reach you, - that you might receive the news of your boy from the hand of a - friend. But whether the official word comes first or not, you will be - glad to have me tell you all I know--which comes to me through Cary - Ray, and which he says has been absolutely verified. - - Tom’s division was one sent forward to replace the remnant of two - British and French divisions which had been long in the field. The - men went into position to hold the line under the hottest possible - machine-gun fire. Tom’s battalion lost all its officers except - himself and a second lieutenant, and these two were forced to take - command. They succeeded in holding the position for many hours and - until relief came, thus saving the day in that sector, and causing - the final retirement of the enemy. The second lieutenant, Fisher, - himself severely wounded, told Cary Ray that “Lockhart was a regular - bull-dog for hanging on, nothing could make him turn back. His men - would go anywhere he told them to, for he always went with them--and - went first.” When he fell it was under a rain of gunfire, and there - could not have been an instant’s survival. - - Though you have prayed many prayers for your boy, and they have - been answered differently from the way in which you would have had - them, I believe your faith in God is no less than before. When Tom - and his father meet again, some day, and talk it over, it will all - be clear to that father why his boy went home ahead of him. But Tom - knows--_now_; I’m very sure of that. - - So, dear friends, you have a glorious memory to comfort you. The gold - star you will wear will be the highest honour that can come to you. - Nothing that Tom could have accomplished in a long life of effort - could so crown that life with imperishable beauty, or so make it - immortal. I rejoice with you, for the lad was my dear friend, and I - can never forget him. - - Faithfully yours, - ROBERT BLACK. - -Late that night, when all was quiet in the ward, he wrote this same -news to Jane. But at the end of his letter came other words, of such -joy and thanksgiving as a man can write only when his heart is very -full. - - What you tell me of yourself goes to my deepest heart, as you must - well know. I knew it would come--it had to come. What it means to me - I can tell you only when I see you, face to face. The thought of that - hour shakes me through and through. - -On the 11th of November, at half after ten in the morning, Jane was in -one of the larger towns which had been swept by devastating fires at -one time or another throughout the entire period of the war. She had -been sent with a certain Brigadier General who had been under her care -at the Field Hospital, and who had obtained for her a short leave that -she might accompany him and see for herself something of this famous -region. At the time of their arrival shells had again unexpectedly -begun pouring in upon the town, though the rumour of the coming -armistice was persistent, and even the hour was given. - -“I can’t let you go any nearer,” General Lewiston said to Jane, as his -car approached the town, and halted at his order, “much as I want you -to be there when the guns cease firing. They’re evidently going to keep -it as hot here as they know how, up to the very last minute.” - -“Oh, but you must let me stay,” Jane begged. “I’m not in the least -afraid, and I’d give all I possess to be exactly there, when the hour -comes.” - -“I’ll leave you here, in care of Lieutenant Ferguson, and send back for -you when it’s over,” the General offered. - -“Please, take me in with you. I’ve been under fire, before. We were -bombed three times in hospital, you know.” - -“Yes, but this is different, Miss Ray. I’m responsible for you now.” - -“Not a bit, General. It’s my responsibility, if I ask it--as I do.” - -He couldn’t resist her, or that sweet sturdiness of hers which made her -seem unlike the women for whom a man had to be “responsible.” So he -bade his chauffeur drive on. Thus it came about that Jane had her wish -and was actually in this most noteworthy of French towns when, at the -close of that last hour of roaring guns and bursting shells, it all -came to an end, as one graphic account put it, “as though God Himself -had dropped a wet blanket over the crackling flames of hell.” - -So, after that first breathless stillness which succeeded upon the -din, Jane heard that which she could never afterward forget--nor could -any other who heard it. From the high tower which had come through -scatheless above the otherwise ruined cathedral, rang out a great peal -of bells. The cathedral doors were opened, and hundreds of soldiers -surged in. Jane saw them go, and called General Lewiston’s attention. - -“Mayn’t we follow?” she urged, and the officer nodded. They got out -of the car and crossed the space and went in at the great battered -doors in the roofless walls which still stood to protect the sacred -enclosure. As they went in they heard the notes of “Praise God from -whom all blessings flow,” break from a young tenor in the very centre -of the crowd, and heard it taken up and grow and swell till it seemed -to lift above the broken walls to the very sky. And then they saw the -wonderful thing which followed. If, before this hour, Jane by her -own experience had not been brought to her knees, surely she must -have fallen upon them now--as she did, with the General beside her on -one side and the Lieutenant on the other, both with bared heads. For -all those men before her, British and French and Mohammedan and Jew, -had now dropped to their knees, and led by an unknown man with a Red -Triangle on his sleeve who had lifted his arms to them as a signal were -devoutly saying together the words of the Lord’s Prayer. Such a deep, -whole-hearted sound it was which came from all those brawny throats -as Jane had never heard before. She had heard men cheer--she had -heard them sing--she had never heard men pray together, regardless of -sect or creed, as she heard them now. And suddenly she realized what -she had never understood before, that it is not one man here or there -who believes that it is of use to say “Our Father,” but that it is -the great, all but universal cry from every heart in time of stress. -The armistice was signed, the guns had ceased--it was the first deep -instinct of these men of every creed to speak their gratitude to high -Heaven. - -There was singing again then--glorious singing of national anthems, -British and French and American. Jane’s voice joined the General’s and -the Lieutenant’s and the three looked at one another. The General’s -eyes were wet, and the Lieutenant’s lips were trembling, while Jane -frankly wiped the streaming tears away as she smiled into the two -faces, which smiled understandingly back. And presently they were out -and away again, and the General was saying to Jane, “I’m glad you had -your way, Miss Ray, since you didn’t get hurt, for you’ve seen to-day -what must almost have paid you for all you have spent since you came -over.” - -“I’m paid a thousand times,” she answered, and so she felt about it. - -Things happened rapidly now. There was plenty of work still for -the hospitals, but it was of a different sort. No longer did the -ambulances bring to Jane the freshly wounded. She was sent back to a -Base Hospital, where were the cases which needed long care before they -could be discharged. She had had more than one letter from Robert Black -urging her to keep in close touch with him, before the one came which -said that he was soon to be sent home. He asked if it would be possible -for her to get leave and come to London, where the final days of his -convalescence were to be spent. He was walking about now, he said, -and--what it would be to walk down certain streets with her! He added -other statements calculated to have their effect upon her, if only to -make her understand how very much he wanted to see her. - -It was not easy to bring about, but at length she obtained a four days’ -leave, and through the influence of Doctor Leaver secured the difficult -permission to cross the Channel on one of the crowded boats. An early -December night saw her making the crossing, the wind and spray stinging -her face into brilliant colour, her big coat-collar turned well up -about her throat, her eyes set straight ahead toward the English coast. -It was almost sixteen months since she had left England on her way to -France--sixteen months of the hardest work she had ever dreamed of -doing--and the happiest. Not one hard hour would she take back--not one! - -Dover, and many delayed hours to London, with post-war conditions, -crowded trains, upset schedules--and always the wounded and crippled -everywhere, that she might not for a minute forget. Then, at last, -Charing Cross Station, and the lights of the great city, no longer -obscured because of enemy air-raids. As Jane came out upon the street -she drew a deep breath of content. She had been several times in -London, and knew her way about. It was not far to the house where she -was expected, but she had not been met because it had been impossible -to know beforehand just when she might get in. The days of making -careful consultation of railway schedules and then wiring an expectant -friend the hour and minute of one’s intended arrival were long gone -by--and had not yet come again. - -She was keyed to a high pitch of expectation during every moment of -that walk. She was so near now--so near! She was actually in the same -great city. It was almost unbelievable, but it was true. There was a -chance--it couldn’t be more than the millionth part of one, but it was -a chance--that at any moment she might turn a corner and see coming -toward her the tall figure which she had last seen a year ago in -August. How would he look? What would he say? Would he be--different? -Oh, he must be different! He couldn’t have been through it all and not -have suffered some change. But--she knew as well as she knew anything -in the world that in the way that mattered most to her he would not be -different, he would be absolutely the same. As for herself, was she not -different too? And was she not--absolutely the same? Oh, no--oh, no! -With the development of her experience and the growth of her sacrifice -had not the thing within her heart and spirit which was his become a -thousand times more his? No doubt of that. Then--might not that which -he had for her have been augmented too? The thought was one she had -to put away from her. Enough, if he could but give her so much of his -heart as he had given before. That of itself, she thought, would be all -that she could bear--to-day. - -The old green door with the shining brass knocker she so well -remembered came into view as she turned into the quaint little street -not far from Westminster Abbey where lived her English friend. On the -first of her visits to England, in search of rare objects for her shop, -she had met Miss Stoughton, an Englishwoman in the late thirties, -who had an established reputation as a connoisseur and collector of -rare antiques. Business dealings with this woman had resulted in a -permanent friendship between the two. Miss Stoughton was separated -from her family, all of whom were strongly opposed to her independent -establishment in business, a departure from all the family traditions -of birth and education. She had chosen nevertheless to live her own -life, and when the Great War came to England she had a well developed -business experience to back her in giving her services to her country. -At the moment when Jane came to her she had just returned to the little -house, after a long period of absence. - -The green door opened at the first fall of the knocker, and the tall -Englishwoman herself welcomed Jane with hearty hospitality. - -“My dear--this is most awfully jolly--to see you again! How well you -are looking! A trifle thin, perhaps--and no wonder--but such a fine -colour! Come in--come in! The house is still a bit upset, you know, but -you won’t mind that.” - -“It doesn’t look upset,” Jane commented, after one glance about the -little drawing room, where a bright fire burned on the diminutive -hearth, and a tea-table beside it offered refreshment, as if it had -been waiting for the guest. “It looks just as I remember it--the -prettiest room I ever saw in England.” - -“Oh, my dear Jane--you are the same extravagant admirer of my simple -things. But I always appreciated your praise of them, for you are not -only a connoisseur but an artist. And you have put aside all that to -do this nursing! Do sit down and tell me all about it, while we have -tea. But first----” she interrupted herself with a gesture--“let me not -fail to give my message--a most important message. Morning, noon, and -night for three days now, have I been besieged by a tall Scotsman in -uniform with the cross of a regimental chaplain. He had what I may call -a determined chin, and the finest pair of black eyes I ever saw. It -seems he also is expecting you, but he fears you may in some way find -it difficult to reach him, or may lose an instant of time in doing so. -He is likely to receive orders to sail for the States at any time; and -I gather from his quite evident anxiety that if he should be forced to -leave without having seen Miss Ray it would be to him a calamity.” - -“It would be one to me too,” Jane answered, with a rising colour but a -steady meeting of her friend’s quizzical look. “How, please, can I let -him know?” - -“A messenger waits within call,” Miss Stoughton assured her, gaily. -“Our war-time telephone service is still frightfully crippled, so -we provide ourselves with substitutes. A small boy is ready to run -post-haste through the streets of London to carry the news of your -arrival to”--she picked up a card lying upon a priceless small table -of an unbelievable antiquity of which Jane had long envied her the -possession, and read the name with distinctness--“‘_Mr. Robert -McPherson Black._’ A very good name, my dear, and one which well fits -the man. I should judge he is accustomed to have his own way in most -things, at the same time that an undoubted spirit of kindness looks out -of that somewhat worn face of his. I will despatch the messenger at -once. Shall we make an appointment for the evening, or are you prepared -to see your friend within the hour? He will most certainly return with -the boy who goes for him--if he is not already on his way, on the -chance of finding you.” - -Jane came close to her hostess, and laid her hands upon her shoulders. -“Dear Miss Stoughton,” she said, “I’m sure you understand. If military -orders weren’t such startling things and likely to arrive sooner than -one expects them, I would put Mr. Black off until evening and just have -the visit with you I so much want. But----” - -“I do perfectly well understand,” replied Miss Stoughton, decidedly, -“and I should be most awfully cross with you if you put off that very -fine man an hour longer than necessary. He has two service chevrons -and two wound stripes on his arm, and he walks with a cane; I should -not be in the least surprised if within his blouse he wears concealed -some sort of decoration. In any case he deserves every consideration. A -chaplain with wounds has done something besides read the prayer book to -his men behind the lines.” - -She left the room and sent off her messenger. Returning she led Jane up -the short staircase to the tiniest and most attractive of English guest -rooms. - -“You see, though I am not married nor intend to be,” she said, with the -smile which made her somewhat plain but noteworthy face charming to -her guest, “I can quite understand that you would like a look in the -mirror before the Chaplain arrives. You have always reminded me of some -smooth-winged bird, but the smoothest winged of birds will preen itself -a good bit, and you shall do the same. Then come down, and we’ll be -having tea when the knocker claps. After that--I have an engagement at -my work-rooms--oh, yes, indeed I have! There is still much to be done -for our soldiers and yours, you know.” - -Jane would have been more--or less--than woman if she had not welcomed -the chance to remove all possible traces of her journey before the -sounding of that knocker. She made haste, but none too much, for Miss -Stoughton’s predictions were truer than could have been expected of -one who must walk with a cane. As the last hairpin slipped into place -the knocker fell, and Jane caught one quick breath before she ran to -complete the freshening of every feather in those “smooth wings” of -hers. - -“He’s here, Jane dear,” Miss Stoughton presently announced, as she -followed her knock into the little guest room. “I don’t consider myself -at all susceptible to bachelor attractions, but I will admit that I -like this man’s face and his nice manner--and--quite everything about -him. I’m going to slip out now, and let you come down to find him -alone.” - -“Oh, please stay and have tea with us first, Miss Stoughton--please do!” - -“I am convinced of your sincerity and truthfulness,” replied Miss -Stoughton, “in all ordinary matters. I should not hesitate to buy from -you any rare curio in the world on your word of honour alone that it -was authentic. But when you urge me to stay by my fireside and have tea -with you and a Scottish-American chaplain whom you have not seen for -considerably more than a year, I have my doubts, my dear, of your good -faith. I’ll see that the kettle is boiling for you, and you, as you -Americans say, must ‘do the rest.’” - -Jane laughed, her eyes glowing. “Oh, you’re such a friend,” she -whispered. “But please don’t stay away long. I want you to know Mr. -Black--indeed I do. And I’m so happy to have your home to meet him in.” - -“My home is yours--and his--while you stay.” And Miss Stoughton went -away, beaming with kindness--and experiencing a touch of envy. What -must it be, she thought, to look as Jane was looking--so fresh and -lovely in spite of her years of business life and these months of work -and heavy care--and then go down to meet the eyes of such a man as this -who waited below for her? Miss Stoughton walked very fast as she went -through the crowded streets; it was best to hurry to her work, and not -to think too long on what might be taking place in that little drawing -room of hers. - -Jane came down so quietly that Robert Black would not have heard her -if he had not been on the watch. When she caught sight of him he was -standing waiting for her, leaning upon the stout cane without which he -could not yet wholly support himself. Her heart, at sight of the thin -yet strong and undaunted look of his face, the whole soldierly pose of -him in his uniform, gave one quick throb of mingled joy and pain, and -then went on beating wildly. It couldn’t be real--it couldn’t--that -after all both had been through they had met again--that they were both -here, in this little London drawing room. Yet it _was_ real--oh, thank -God, it _was_ real! - -It was dark outside, but lamplight and firelight shone on both faces as -the two pairs of eyes looked into each other. - -“It _is_ you,” said Robert Black, after a moment, while he still held -Jane’s hand. “I can’t quite believe it--but it is you. Will you mind if -I look at you very hard, for a little, to make myself sure?” - -“I’m not so sure it is you,” Jane said. She couldn’t quite return that -eager gaze, but she could take stock of his appearance, none the less, -as a woman may. “You must have been through very, very much.” - -“Not more than you. You are not changed at all, in one way; but in -another way--you are. It is the change that I expected, but--it takes -hold of me, just the same. You have seen--what you have seen.” - -“Yes. And you have done--what you have done,” she answered. - -“We have very much to tell each other, haven’t we? And so little time, -at the longest, to tell it in--till we meet back home. I’m sorry to -be going first, again, but I have no choice. I wanted to wait for my -regiment, but--I suspect Red’s friend Doctor Leaver of having a hand in -these rigid orders to get out of the country.” - -“Aren’t the wounds doing well?” she asked him, with the nurse’s -straightforwardness which was so natural to her now. - -“The wounds are all right, but they left a bit of trouble behind. It’s -nothing--only a matter of time. The sea voyage alone will undoubtedly -work wonders. Have you any idea when you will be coming?” - -“Within a month or two, I imagine.” - -“Really?” His eyes lighted. “But--Jane--I can’t wait even till then to -hear all that you can tell me of yourself.” - -“Come and sit down. And--may I give you tea?” - -She laughed as she said it, and he laughed with her, a note of sheer -joy at the absurdity of stopping to drink tea, when the time was so -short. - -“Miss Stoughton will expect us to take it,” he admitted. “It’s -unthinkable that we shouldn’t bother about it. Can’t we pour it away -somewhere, where it will do no harm? On the fire?” - -“And risk putting it out? I can never remember how small an English -fireplace is, in a house of this size, till I see one again. Really, I -don’t think it would do you any hurt to take the tea. You’re not wholly -strong yet.” And she quickly made and poured it. - -“Anything to get it over,” he agreed, and took the cup from her hand, -drank, and set it down. “Now!” he said, and sat down beside her. -“Jane, I can’t believe it, yet. I’ve been haunting Charing Cross -Station for days. I wanted to see you get off the train. I wanted to -see you before you saw me, so I could look--and look--and look at you. -It’s been so long to wait.... Well!” He quite evidently laid sudden and -firm restraint on his own emotions--he didn’t mean to let himself get -out of hand. “Tell me all about it. You can’t know how I want to hear.” - -“What will you have first?” - -“Begin at the beginning. Tell me--everything you must know I want to -know about you. How it began--what came first--and what followed. -And--most of all--where you are now.” - -They never knew how the hours passed--three hours--while they sat -before the fire in the little London drawing room and lived again the -year and more that had separated them. But when at last Robert Black, -looking in amazement at the watch upon his wrist, rose to go, he was in -possession of that knowledge of Jane’s experience which had transformed -him from a convalescent to a well man--or so it seemed. - -He took both her hands in his, and stood looking down at her. - -“I’m very certain that my ship doesn’t sail before Monday,” he said, -“or I shouldn’t take the chance I am taking. Jane--I haven’t said a -word of what is nearest my heart. I have a strange fancy that I want to -say that word--to-morrow. Do you remember that to-morrow is----” - -“Sunday. Indeed I do remember it. I have thought, ever since I knew -that I was coming, that if I could just--be in London on a Sunday--with -you----” - -His smile was like sunshine. “We’ll go to a service together. Will you -trust me to choose the place?” - -“I want you to.” - -“I’ll come for you in the morning,” he said. Then he lifted first -one of her hands to his lips and then the other, said, “Good-night!” -and was gone, with a military sort of abruptness that was rather an -emphasis of his former self than a change from it. - -It was easy to know what he had to say to her, that he had chosen to -defer until the following day. It had been in all his manner to her; -there was no need that he should tell her it was coming; it was a most -characteristic postponement and a highly significant one. Why, since -he could choose it, should he not select the great Day of the week on -which to say the words which he was not less eager to speak than she to -hear? That he should do so could but show her how sacred an event it -was to him, nor fail to make it quite as sacred to her. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - -IN HIS NAME - - -Morning, and the London streets, with Westminster lifting its stately -heights above them. Jane had been quite sure that Black meant to take -her there; somehow there seemed no place where they could so much want -to go. Miss Stoughton had told her that all through the war the great -Abbey, like St. Paul’s, had been thronged with the people who had gone, -on week days as on the Sabbath, to pray, as the new war-time phrasing -had it, “for those serving upon land and sea and in the air.” And -now, early as they had left the little house almost under the Abbey’s -shadow, they found the streets filled with those who like themselves -were pressing toward the place where since the eleventh of November the -nation’s gratitude for victory was being voiced in each prayer and song -which rose from those sombre walls. - -So presently Jane found herself kneeling beside her companion, in this -place of places which stood for the very heart of England. More than -once on former visits to London she had entered at those doors, but -then it had been only as a sightseer. Now, it was as a worshipper that -she had come. Everything in her life was changed, since those former -visits, and she herself was more changed than all. - -It was in the midst of a great prayer, one not read from the printed -page but proceeding straight from the heart of one of Westminster’s -best-loved administrants, that Jane felt a hand come upon hers. Fingers -touched the fastening of her glove, making known a wish. She drew off -the glove, and the bare hands clasped and so remained throughout the -whole period of kneeling through this and other prayers. Strangers -were all about, pressed close in the rows of straight-backed chairs -which were set even more thickly this day than there had ever been -need before, yet Jane Ray and Robert Black were almost as much alone -in the midst of the throng as they could have been anywhere. It seemed -to Jane, as that warm, firm hand held hers, that life flowed to her -from it, so vital was the sense of union. Though not a word had as yet -been said, the touch of this man’s hand seemed all but to speak aloud -to her of the love that was only waiting the hour for its expression. -The promise of that clasp was to her only a shade less binding than the -word that he should afterward speak. - -When the service had ended and they were upon the street again, Black -did not lead her home. Instead he took her slowly about and about the -place until the crowds had left it. Then he said, with a gesture toward -the nave: - -“Shall we go back? There will still be people about, but there’s room -for all. I know a corner where I’m sure we can be quite alone. Somehow, -Jane--I want it to be there. Don’t you?” - -She looked up, met such a glance as told her that the hour had come, -and bent her head in assent. - -“Church walls never meant so much to me as now,” he said, very low, -as they entered, “now, when the Church has come into her own as never -before. What does it mean when the people crowd like that into her -doors? What did it mean when all those soldiers, as you told me, -crowded into that war-ruined cathedral? Why, it must mean that the -instinct to go where the Name of God is most deeply associated with -every stone and window is something which is in every man who has ever -heard song and prayer ascend from such a place. He can’t do without -it--he can’t do without it.... And no more can we--_now_.” - -He said no more, while he led her down the great nave, nearly deserted. -People lingered here and there in famous corners, beside distinguished -name on statue or tablet, but as Black had said, there was room for -all in that vast space. And presently they had come to a spot behind a -stone column where they were in sight of none, and all were far away. -Black took Jane’s hand in his again, and himself drew off the glove. - -“Jane,” he said, with that in his low tone which spoke his feeling, “it -seemed to me that I must have our first prayer together in this place. -I came to Westminster and this very spot, when our regiment was in -London, more than a year ago. I knelt here, all alone, and asked God, -as I had never asked before, that He would make Himself real to you. He -has done it, as you have told me, and I wanted to bring you here and -thank Him, on my knees. Because now, we can work together--all the rest -of our lives--in His Name. Is it so--Jane?” - -She could not look up. Great sobbing breaths caught her unawares and -shook her from head to foot. She felt his arm come about her, felt his -hand press her face against his shoulder, and there, for a few minutes, -she cried her heart out. He held her silently, and with such a tender -strength that it seemed to her that she had come into some wonderful -refuge, such as she had never dreamed of. All the tension, all the -weariness, all the heart-wrenching sights and sounds of the last year, -had come back to her in one overwhelming flood at his words, as they -had come many times before. But never, at such times, could she let -go; always she had had to hold fast to her courage and her will, lest -giving way weaken her for the pressing, unremitting tasks yet to be -done. In the old, ruined cathedral a month before, she had had all she -could do to keep control and not suffer a very hysteria of reaction, -such as, alone among those hundreds of men, would have done both -herself and them a harm. But now--she knew for the first time in her -independent, resourceful life, what it might mean to lean upon an arm -stronger than her own, and to feel, as she was momently feeling more -sustainingly, that another life was tied so closely to her own that -neither sorrow nor joy could ever shake her again that it should not -shake that life too. - -By and by the storm passed. No longer did she want to weep--a great -peace came upon her. She stood still within the right arm which held -her--the uninjured arm--she didn’t know that he could not lift that -left arm yet nor use it beyond slight effort. Now, at last, he spoke. - -“Will you kneel with me, here? No one will see--and if they -did--everyone prays now.” - -So they knelt, and Robert Black poured out his heart in a few -low-spoken words which, if she had still been unbelieving that they -could be heard, must have stirred her to the depths. As it was, -convinced past all power of sceptic argument to shake, Jane’s own soul -spoke with his to the God who had brought her where she was. - -With the last words his hand came again upon her cheek and turned her -face gently toward his. His lips sealed his betrothal to her with a -reverent passion of pledging which told her, more plainly than any -words could have done, that that life of his was now fully hers. It -was the life of no pale saint, she well knew, but that of a man whose -blood was red and swift-flowing, whose pulses beat as fast and humanly -as her own. But he had chosen to devote that virile life to service -in the Church, with the same ardour with which, during these months -just past, he had given of his best to help defeat the enemies of that -Church and all for which it stands. No fear for her now that service -with him back on the old home grounds would be dull or tame or weak; -it would call for the best she had to give. And she would give it, oh, -but she would give it! She knew, at last, that no task of his in that -service could seem to her uncongenial, if to him it was worth while. - -As they walked slowly back up the long, quiet nave, it was as from some -high rite. At the door Robert Black turned and looked back into the dim -distance of the great vaulted interior. Then he looked down into Jane’s -face. - -“It’s done,” he said, with a smile which lighted his eyes into altars -upon which burned holy fires of love and joy, “and never can be undone. -And when you’re home again--oh, please promise me--we’ll have--the rest -of it--without any delay at all?” - -“I promise.” The smile she gave him back, he thought, was the most -beautiful thing he had ever seen. - -At the door of the little house under the shadow of the great Abbey, -Miss Stoughton met them with a message, sent in haste from Dr. John -Leaver, forwarding Black’s orders to sail that night. - -“But if,” he said, standing with Jane at the last moment, alone with -her in the small drawing room, “by any strange happening this should be -all that we ever had of each other in this life, we have had--it all! -Jane, we have had it all--all the best of it!” - -“Yes!” she breathed it. “But”--she lifted her face and whispered it--“I -want--a life-time to say that in!” - -“So do I--bless you!--and we shall have it--somehow I’m very sure. God -keep you safe, my Best Beloved, I know He will!” - -Then he went away, limping a very little with his cane, but walking -very erect and looking as if he had won all the wars of all the worlds. -He could hardly have been so happy if he had. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII - -THE TOWN WAS EMPTY BEFORE - - -“Of _course_ I’m going down to New York to see him in!” shouted Dr. -Redfield Pepper Burns. He waved a cable message in his good right hand. -“What did I wire Leaver to wire me the date for, if not so I could be -on the pier yelling when that darn chaplain of the ----nth gets in? -Why, if Cary Ray’s word is to be trusted, Black’s come through hell, -same as the rest of ’em. Be there? You _bet_ I’ll be there.” - -He was there. Nothing could have stopped him. He wanted to see -instantly for himself that those shoulder and thigh injuries of which -Leaver had written were not going to leave any serious or permanent -results. Besides--oh, yes, he wanted to see the man himself, his -friend,--who had faced death for him, as every soldier who went had -faced it, for those who were left behind. He wanted to see Robert -McPherson Black, and look into those keen, dark eyes of his, and see -break over the well-remembered clean-cut face that smile which Red knew -the first wave of his arm would bring. - -People on that pier had to make way when a certain chaplain came down -the gangway. A big man with a red head politely but irresistibly put -them aside from his path, and they saw him grasp the chaplain’s hand. -They didn’t hear much, but they saw that two friends had met. The very -silence of that first instant told the story of a glad reunion. - -Later, the words came fast enough. When Red could get Black to himself -his first questions were pointedly professional. Satisfied upon the -items he had wished made clear, he turned his attention to making his -welcome manifest. - -“I don’t want you to think I’ve lost my head,” he said, in the taxicab -which was taking the two men to their train. Black was on furlough; -the way had been made clear for him to go at once, though he was to -rejoin his regiment when it came home later, pending his and his men’s -discharge. “But I’m just so plain glad to have you back I’ve got to say -it, and say it out loud. I knew well enough when you went you wouldn’t -play safe, over there--and you haven’t.” - -“Just how much use,” inquired Black, looking him straight in the eye, -“would you have had for me if I had?” - -“Not much.” - -“Well, then----” - -The two laughed, as men do when there is real emotion behind the -laughter. Red let his welcome go at that for the present, and plunged -into talk about the armistice and the present condition of things. But -late that night, when Black having reached the haven of Red’s home, -after a quick journey by the fastest train over the shortest route, was -sent to his room at what Red considered a proper hour--midnight--he -had wanted to sit up until morning, but he considered Black still -a convalescent, and now in his charge--Red gave his friend his -real welcome. To this day Black preserves a scrawl upon a certain -professional prescription blank, which was pushed under his door that -night just before he switched off his light. - -All the evening he had been made to feel how they all cared. Mrs. Burns -had given him the most satisfying of greetings; the Macauleys had -rushed in to see him; Samuel Lockhart had called him upon the telephone -to make an appointment for the morning. His whole parish would have -been in to wring his hand if Red had not kept his actual arrival a -secret for that night except to these chosen few. But nothing that -anybody said or did gave him half the joy that he found in those few -words written slantwise across the little white slip with R. P. Burns’ -name and address printed at the top and no signature at all at the -bottom. Considering that day, now almost three years back, when Robert -Black had first looked across the space between pulpit and pew and -coveted the red-headed doctor for his friend, and taking into account -all the difficulties he had found in getting past the barriers Red had -set up against him, it was not strange that his heart gave one big, -glad throb of exultation as he read these words:-- - - “_The town was empty before--it’s full now, though not another blamed - beggar comes into it to-night._” - -Two months later Jane came home, to find Cary there before her, with -Fanny as his bride. They had been married in Paris, “with all the -thrills,” as Cary said, beaming proudly upon the slender figure in the -French frock beside him, as he described the wedding to his sister. -A few days later Robert Black and Jane Ray themselves were quietly -married at the home of Dr. Redfield Pepper Burns and went at once to -the manse, which had been made ready for them by the united efforts of -Mrs. Burns, Miss Lockhart and Mrs. Hodder, Black’s former housekeeper. - -At the wedding breakfast, Cary, self-appointed master of ceremonies, -rose in his place. He looked around at the little company, his eyes -resting first on one and then another, till he had swept the circle. -Then he made a speech, which he always afterward asserted to be his -masterpiece in the way of rhetorical effort, struck off, as it was, on -the inspiration of the hour. - -Getting up in the correspondent’s uniform which it had pleased him to -put on once more for the occasion, since Black, as yet undischarged, -was obliged still to wear the olive-drab with the cross upon the -collar, Cary began:-- - -“In view of the fact that the bridegroom is still in O. D., it seems to -me that it ought to be known to you people what it looks as if he never -meant to tell you for himself. It’s only by chance that I found it out, -but, by George! I’m going to tell you, since he won’t.” - -He walked around to Black, and laid hand upon the topmost button of -his new brother-in-law’s tunic. Black put up a hand and attempted to -restrain him, but it could not be done, without a fight. He therefore -submitted, the colour rising in his cheek, while Cary unfastened the -tunic and threw back its left side, whereupon a certain famous war -medal for distinguished service became visible. - -“My faith!” burst from Red’s lips. “I knew it! But I never dared ask.” - -“The wearer of this,” Cary went on, while Black’s eyes fell before the -glow of joy he had caught in Jane’s, “went over the top with his men -every blooming time they went, till Fritz finally got him. But before -the shrapnel that put him out at last left the guns he had brought in -wounded under every sort of hot fire, had taken every chance there was, -and that last day--turned the trick that brought him this,----” and -Cary laid a reverent hand upon the medal. “It happened this way----” - -“No--please!----” began Black quickly, turning in protest. “Not -now--nor here----” - -But Cary wouldn’t be restrained. “Now--and here, by your leave, Bob, -or without it. I won’t go into details, if you don’t like me to, but I -will say this much: The story concerns a machine-gun on our side which -had lost its last gunner, trying to put out a machine-gun nest of the -enemy’s which was enfilading our men and mowing them down. This Bob -Black of ours comes up, jumps in, and keeps things going all by himself -till--the spit-fire over there was silenced. It may not have been the -proper deed for the chaplain--I don’t know--but I do know that he saved -ten times more lives than he took--and I say--here’s to him--and God -bless him!” - -The toast to which all had risen was drunk in a quivering silence, with -Jane’s hand upon her husband’s shoulder, and her proud and beautiful -eyes meeting his with a glance which said it all. - -Then Black rose. “Sometime, Cary,” he said, with a glance, “I’ll be -even with you for this. Sometime I shall have found out all the chances -_you_ took, and I’ll recite them on some public occasion and make -you wince as you never winced under shot and shell. But while we are -drinking toasts--in this crystal clear water of our wedding feast which -is better than any wine for such an hour--I want to propose one which -is very near my heart. Not all the war medals that ever were struck -would be big enough or fine enough to pin upon some of the breasts that -most deserved them. One man I know, who desperately wanted to go across -and take his part in the salvaging of life from the wreck, but couldn’t -go, nevertheless contributed one of the most efficient means to saving -life that has been used by some of the best surgeons there. And I want -to say--‘here and now’--as Cary says--that I consider it took more -gallantry on the part of this same red-headed--and red-blooded--fellow -to stay here and carry on, as he did, with speeches and loan-raising, -and all the rest of the unthanked tasks that he put through at heavy -cost to his own endurance, than to have gone across, as he longed to -do, and won medals by spectacular work that would have made his name -famous on both sides of the water. So here’s to Dr. Redfield Pepper -Burns, bearer of a heavier cross than I have ever borne,--and winner of -one more shining. And I, too, say--God bless him!” - -They looked into each others’ eyes, these two, across the table, and -Red’s eyes fell before the light that was in Black’s. It was not only -the light that his wedding day had brought there, it was the light of -a friendship which should last throughout these two men’s lives, and -bless both, all the way. - - -THE END - - - - -TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES: - - - Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_. - - Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. - - Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RED AND BLACK *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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Richmond</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Red and Black</p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Grace S. Richmond</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Illustrator: Frances Rogers</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: August 1, 2021 [eBook #65971]</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: D A Alexander, David E. Brown, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)</div> - -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RED AND BLACK ***</div> - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/cover.jpg" width="50%" alt="" /></div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h1>RED AND BLACK</h1> -</div> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_frontispiece.jpg" alt="" /></div> - - -<p class="caption">“‘<i>So here’s to Dr. Redfield Pepper Burns, bearer of a<br /> -heavier cross than I have ever borne, and winner of one<br /> -more shining.</i>...’”</p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_title.jpg" alt="" /></div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="titlepage"> - -<p><span class="xxlarge">RED AND BLACK</span></p> - -<p><span class="xlarge">By GRACE S. RICHMOND</span><br /> -Author of<br /> -“<i>Mrs. Red Pepper</i>,” “<i>Red Pepper Burns</i>,”<br /> -“<i>Red Pepper’s Patients</i>,” “<i>Twenty-Fourth of June</i>,”<br /> -<i>Etc.</i></p> - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_logo.jpg" alt="" /></div> - -<p>WITH FRONTISPIECE BY<br /> - -FRANCES ROGERS</p> - -<p><span class="large">A. L. BURT COMPANY<br /> - -Publishers<span class="gap"> New York</span></span><br /> -<br /> -Published by arrangement with Doubleday, Page & Company</p> -</div></div> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="center"> -COPYRIGHT, 1919, BY<br /> -DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY<br /> -ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF<br /> -TRANSLATION INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES,<br /> -INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN<br /> -<br /> -<br /> -COPYRIGHT, 1919, BY THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY</p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="center">TO<br /> - -<span class="large">“MY BEST FRIENDS”</span></p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak">CONTENTS</h2> - - -<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="2" summary="table"> - -<tr><td class="tdr"><small>CHAPTER</small></td><td> </td><td class="tdr"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">I.</td><td> <span class="smcap">Across the Space</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_3"> 3</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">II.</td><td> <span class="smcap">Headlines</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_17"> 17</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">III.</td><td> <span class="smcap">No Anaesthetic</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_31"> 31</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">IV.</td><td> <span class="smcap">Nobody to Say a Prayer</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_48"> 48</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">V.</td><td> <span class="smcap">Plain as a Pikestaff</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_63"> 63</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">VI.</td><td> <span class="smcap">High Lights</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_80"> 80</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">VII.</td><td> <span class="smcap">Rather a Big Thing</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_99"> 99</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">VIII.</td><td> <span class="smcap">Spendthrifts</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_117"> 117</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">IX.</td><td> “<span class="smcap">Burn, Fire, Burn!</span>”</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_134"> 134</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">X.</td><td> <span class="smcap">A Shifting of Honours</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_153"> 153</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">XI.</td><td> <span class="smcap">A Long April Night</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_174"> 174</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">XII.</td><td> <span class="smcap">Everybody Plots</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_192"> 192</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">XIII.</td><td> <span class="smcap">A Great Gash</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_212"> 212</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">XIV.</td><td> <span class="smcap">Something to Remember</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_233"> 233</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">XV.</td><td> <span class="smcap">Quicksilver in a Tube</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_255"> 255</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">XVI.</td><td> <span class="smcap">The Altar of His Purpose</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_276"> 276</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">XVII.</td><td> <span class="smcap">No Other Way</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_291"> 291</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">XVIII.</td><td> <span class="smcap">At Four in the Morning</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_307"> 307</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">XIX.</td><td> <span class="smcap">A Scarlet Feather</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_328"> 328</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">XX.</td><td> <span class="smcap">A Happy Warrior</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_341"> 341</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">XXI.</td><td> <span class="smcap">A Peal of Bells</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_354"> 354</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">XXII.</td><td> <span class="smcap">In His Name</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_370"> 370</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">XXIII.</td><td> <span class="smcap">The Town Was Empty Before</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_376"> 376</a></td></tr> -</table></div> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="ph1">RED AND BLACK</p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[3]</span> -<p class="ph2">RED AND BLACK</p> - - - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER I<br /> - - -<small>ACROSS THE SPACE</small></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">THEIR first sight of each other—Red and Black—was -across the space which stretches between pulpit and -pew. It’s sometimes a wide space, and impassable; again, -it’s not far, and the lines of communication are always -open. In this case, neither of them knew, as yet, just -what the distance was.</p> - -<p>Black—Robert McPherson Black—if you want his full -name, had been a bit nervous in the vestry where he put -on his gown. He had been preaching only five years, and -that in a Southern country parish, when a visiting committee -of impressive looking men had come to listen to him—had -come again—and once more—and then had startled -him with a call to the big suburban town and the fine -old, ivy-grown church generally known as the “Stone -Church.”</p> - -<p>“But, gentlemen,” he had said, swinging about quickly -in his study chair when Mr. Lockhart, the chairman of the -committee, had asked him if he would consider a call—“I’m—I’m—why, -I’m not good enough for you!”</p> - -<p>The committee had smiled—it was quite a remarkable -committee, and had a sense of humour. At least Samuel -Lockhart had, and one other of the five who were waiting -upon Mr. Black in his study after the evening service.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[4]</span>“Meaning virtue—or ability?” inquired the chairman, -with his friendly smile.</p> - -<p>“Both. You see—well, to put it honestly—I’m just -a country boy as yet, born in Scotland and brought up in -your South. I haven’t had the training——”</p> - -<p>“Very good things have come out of the country—and -Scotland—and the South,” Mr. John Radway had suggested. -“And I believe you are a graduate of—a perfectly -satisfactory college and seminary, and have built this -church up from desertion to popularity——”</p> - -<p>Well, they had had it out on those lines, and others, in -the next hour, the committee falling more and more in love -with its candidate—if so emotional a phrase may be used -of the feelings stirred in the breasts of five middle-aged, -steady-going, sensible men—as they watched the young -man’s face go from pale to red and back again, and heard -him tell them not only what he thought he was not, but -what he thought they might not be either—in so frank and -winning a way that the more he wasn’t sure he’d better -come the surer they were he must!</p> - -<p>In the end he came—called and accepted, after the modern -methods, wholly on the judgment of the committee, -for he had refused absolutely and finally to come and -preach a candidating sermon. So when he emerged from -the vestry door, on that first May Sunday, he faced for -the first time his newly acquired congregation, and the -church faced for the first time its minister-elect. Which -was wholly as it should be, and the result was a tremendously -large audience, on tiptoe with interest and curiosity.</p> - -<p>Red was not in the congregation when Black first came -in through the vestry door. Instead, as usual, he was -racing along the road in a very muddy car, trying to make -four calls in the time in which he should really have made<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[5]</span> -two, because his wife had insisted very strenuously that -he should do his best to get to church on that particular -morning. It seemed that she had learned that the new -minister was from the South, and she, being a Southerner, -naturally felt an instant sense of loyalty. It was mighty -seldom that Red could ever be got to church, not so much -because he didn’t want to go—though he didn’t, really, unless -the man he was to hear was exceptionally good—as because -he couldn’t get around to it, not once in a blue moon—or -a Sunday morning sun. And if, by strenuous exertion, -he did arrive at church, there was one thing which almost -invariably happened—so what was the use? The young -usher for Doctor Burns’ aisle always grinned when he saw -him come in, because he knew perfectly that within a very -short time, he, the usher, would be tiptoeing down the -aisle and whispering in the ear below the heavy thatch of -close-cropped, fire-red hair. And then Doctor Burns’ -attending church for <i>that</i> day would be over.</p> - -<p>The chances seemed fair, however, on this particular -morning, because Red did not come into church till the -preliminary service was well along. He stole in while the -congregation was on its feet singing a hymn, so his entrance -was not conspicuous; but Black saw him, just the same. -Black had already seen every man in the congregation, -though he had noted individually but few of the women. -He saw this big figure, stalwart yet well set up; he saw the -red head—he could hardly help that—it would be a landmark -in any audience. He saw also the brilliant hazel -eyes, the strong yet finely cut face. To put it in a word, -as Redfield Pepper Burns came into the crowded church, -his personality reached out ahead of him and struck the -man in the pulpit a heavy blow over the heart. Too -strong a phrase? Not a bit of it. If the thing has never<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[6]</span> -happened to you, then you’re not a witness, and your testimony -doesn’t count. But plenty of witnesses can be -found.</p> - -<p>Robert Black looked down the aisle, and instantly coveted -this man for a friend. “I’ve got to have you,” he -said within himself, while the people went on singing the -last stanza of a great hymn. “I’ve got to have you for -a friend. I don’t know who else may be in this parish -but as long as <i>you’re</i> here there’ll be something worth the -very best I can do. I wonder if you’ll be easy to get. I—doubt -it.”</p> - -<p>Now this was rather strange, for the family with whom -he was staying while the manse was being put in order for -the new minister had spoken warmly of Doctor Burns as -the man whom they always employed, plainly showing -their affection for him, and adding that half the town -adored the red-headed person in question. When that -red head came into church late, looking as professional as -such a man can’t possibly help looking, it was easy enough -for Black to guess that this was Doctor Burns.</p> - -<p>Across the space, then, they faced each other, these two, -whose lives were to react so powerfully, each upon the -other—and only one of them guessed it. To tell the truth, -Red was more than a little weary that Sunday morning; -he was not just then electrically sensitive, like the other -man, to every impression—he was not that sort of man, -anyhow. He had been up half the night, and his hair-trigger -temper—which had inspired the nickname he had -carried from boyhood—had gone off in a loud explosion -within less than an hour before he appeared in the church. -He was still inwardly seething slightly at the recollection, -though outwardly he had returned to calm. Altogether, -he was not precisely in a state of mind to gaze with favour<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[7]</span> -upon the new man in the pulpit, who struck him at once as -disappointingly young. He had been told by somebody -that Robert McPherson Black was thirty-five, but his -first swift glance convinced him that Robert had not -been strictly truthful about his age—or else had encouraged -an impression that anybody with half an eye could -see was a wrong one. He was quite evidently a boy—a -mere boy. Burns liked boys—but not in the pulpit, attempting -to take charge of his life and tell him what to do.</p> - -<p>Therefore Red looked with an indifferent eye upon the -tall figure standing to read the Scriptures, but acknowledged -in his mind that the youth had a pleasing face and personality—Red -liked black hair and eyes—he had married -them, and had never ceased to prefer that colouring to any -other. He admitted to himself that the intonations of -Black’s voice were surprisingly deep and manly for such -a boy—and then promptly closed his mind to further -impressions, and ran his hand through his red hair and -breathed a heavy sigh of fatigue. Vigorous fellow though -he was at forty years, it was necessary for him to get an occasional -night’s sleep to even things up. If it hadn’t been -for his wife’s urging he might have been snatching forty -winks this minute on a certain comfortable wide davenport -at home. These Southerners—how they did hang -together—and Black wasn’t a real Southerner, either, -having spent his boyhood in Scotland. Red could have -heard the new man quite as well next Sunday—or the one -after. He glanced sidewise at his wife, and his irritation -faded—as it always did at the mere sight of her. How -lovely she was this morning, in her quiet church attire. -Bless her heart—if she wanted him there he was glad he -had come. And of course it was best for the children -that they see their father in church now and then....<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[8]</span> -But he hoped the boy in the pulpit would not make too -long a prayer—he, Red, was so deadly sleepy, he might -go to sleep and disgrace Ellen. It wouldn’t be the first -time.</p> - -<p>But he didn’t hear the prayer—and not because he went -to sleep. It was during the offertory sung by the expensive -quartette (which he didn’t like at all because he knew the -tenor for a four-flusher and the contralto for a little blonde -fool, who sometimes got him up in the night for her hysterics—though -he admitted she could sing), that the -young usher came tiptoeing down the aisle and whispered -the customary message in the ear beneath the red thatch. -Dr. Redfield Pepper Burns had been in church precisely -eleven minutes this time before being called out. What -in thunder was the use of his coming at all? He gave an -I-told-you-so look at his wife as he got up and hung his -overcoat on his arm and went up the aisle again, his competent -shoulders followed by the disappointed gaze of -Black from the pulpit. The doors closed behind him, -and the young usher exhibited his watch triumphantly -to another young usher, making signs as of one who had -won a bet. Eleven minutes was the shortest time since -February, when on a certain remembered Sunday Burns -had never got to his seat at all, but had been followed -down the aisle by the usher practically on a run. Somebody -had got himself smashed up by a passing trolley almost -outside the door of the sanctuary. Being an usher -certainly had its compensations at times.</p> - -<p>Yes, Black was disappointed. Of course he faced a large -and interested congregation, and everybody knows that a -minister should not be more anxious to preach to one man -than to another. Unfortunately, being quite human, he -sometimes is. On this occasion, having suffered that blow<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[9]</span> -over the heart before mentioned, he had found himself -suddenly peculiarly eager to speak to the red-headed -doctor—from the pulpit—and convince him that he himself -was not as young as he looked—and that he could be a -very good friend. Red looked to him like the sort of man -who needed a friend, in spite of all Black’s hostess had said -to him about Burns’ popularity and his enormous professional -practice. During those eleven minutes, through -part of which Black had been at leisure to glance several -times at Red, he had received the distinct impression -that he was looking at a much overworked man, who -needed certain things rather badly—one of which was another -man who was not just a good-fellow sort of friend, -but one who understood at least a little of what life meant—and -what it ought to mean.</p> - -<p>Thus thinking Black rose to make his prayer—the -prayer before the sermon. His thoughts about Red had -made him forget for a little that he was facing his new -congregation—and that was a good thing, for it had taken -away most of his nervousness. And after the prayer -came the sermon—and after the sermon came a very -wonderful strain of music which made Black lift his head -toward the choir above him with a sense of deep gratitude -that music existed and could help him in his task like that. -At this time, of course, he didn’t know about the “four-flusher” -tenor, and the little fool of a blonde contralto -who always felt most like smiling at the moment when he -was preaching most earnestly. When he did know—well—in -the end there were two new members of that -quartette.</p> - -<p>So this was how Black and Red met for the first time—yet -did not meet. Though, after the seeing of Red across -the as yet undetermined distance between pulpit and pew,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[10]</span> -there followed a thousand other impressions, and though -after the service Black met any number of interesting looking -men and women who shook his hand and gave him -cordial welcome, the memory he carried away with him -was that of R. P. Burns, M.D., as the man he must at any -cost come to know intimately.</p> - -<p>As for Red—his impression was another story.</p> - -<p>“Well, how did the Kid acquit himself?” he inquired, -when he met his family at the customary early afternoon -Sunday dinner. There was quite a group about the -table, for his wife’s sister, Martha Macauley, her husband, -James Macauley, and their children were there. All these -people had been present at the morning service.</p> - -<p>Macauley, ever first to reply to any question addressed -to a company in general, spoke jeeringly, turning his -round, good-humoured face toward his host:</p> - -<p>“Why not fee young Perkins to leave you in your pew -for once, and hear for yourself? I’ve known you turn -down plenty of calls when they took you away from home, -but, come to think of it, I never knew you to refuse to cut -and run from church!”</p> - -<p>Burns frowned. “You’re not such a devoted worshipper -yourself, Jim, that you can act truant officer and get -away with it. If you knew how I hated to move out of -that pew this morning——”</p> - -<p>“Yes, you’d got all set for one of those head-up snoozes -you take when the sermon bores you. Well, let me tell -you, if you’d stayed, you wouldn’t have got any chance -to sleep. He may be a kid—though he doesn’t look so -much like one when you get close—lines in his face if you -notice—he may be a kid, but he’s got the goods, and by -George, he delivered ’em this morning all right. Sleep! -I wasn’t over and above wide awake myself through the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[11]</span> -preliminaries, but I found myself sitting up with a jerk -when he let go his first bolt.”</p> - -<p>“Bolt, eh?” Burns began to eat his soup with relish. -As it happened he had had no time for breakfast, and this -was his first meal of the day. “Jolly, this <i>is</i> good soup!” -he said. “Well!—I thought they always spoke softly -when they first came, and only fired up later. Didn’t he -begin on the ‘Dear Brethren, I’m pleased to be with you’ -line? I thought he looked rather conventional myself—and -abominably young. I’m not fond of green salad.”</p> - -<p>“Green salad!” This was Martha Macauley, flushing -and indignant. “Why, he’s a <i>man</i>, Red, and a very fine -one, if I’m any judge. And he can preach—oh, how he -<i>can</i> preach!”</p> - -<p>“I’m not asking any woman, Marty.” Burns gave his -sister-in-law a cynical little smile. “Trust any woman -to fall for a handsome young preacher with black eyes -and a good voice, whatever he says. To be sure, Ellen——”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes—you think Ellen is the only woman in the -world with any sense. Well, let me tell you Len ‘fell -for him,’ just as much as I did—only she never gives -herself away, and probably won’t now, if you ask her.”</p> - -<p>Burns’ eyes met his wife’s. “Like him, eh, Len?” he -asked. “Did the black eyes—and his being a Southerner—get -you, too?”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Redfield Pepper Burns was an unusual woman. -If she had not been, at this challenge, she would have -answered one of two things. Either she would have said -defiantly: “I certainly did like him—why shouldn’t I, -when Jim did—and <i>he’s</i> a man! Why are you always -prejudiced against ministers?” or she would have said -softly: “If you had heard him, dear, I think you would<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[12]</span> -have liked him yourself.” Instead she answered, as a -man might—only she was not in the least like a man—“It’s -hard to tell how one likes any minister at first sight. -It’s not the first sermon, but the twentieth, that tells the -story. And plenty of other things besides the preaching.”</p> - -<p>“But you certainly got a good first impression, Len?” -Martha cried, at the same moment that James Macauley -chuckled, “My, but that was a clever stall!”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Burns smiled at her husband, whose hazel eyes -were studying her intently. Red never ceased to wonder -at the way people didn’t succeed in cornering Ellen. She -might find her way out with a smile alone, or with a flash -of those wonderful black-lashed eyes of hers, but find her -way out she always did. She found it now.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Lockhart told me confidentially this morning -that Mr. Black said he wasn’t good enough for us. So -at least we have been forewarned. He’ll have to prove -himself against his own admission.”</p> - -<p>“Wasn’t good enough, eh?” growled Red Pepper, suddenly -and characteristically striking fire. “Did he think -we wanted a ‘good one’—a saint? I don’t, for one. My -principal objection to him, without having heard him, is -that he looks as if his mother parted his hair for him before -he came, and put a clean handkerchief in his pocket. -Jolly—I like ’em to look less like poets and more like red-blooded -men! Not that I want ’em beefy, either. Speaking -of beef—I’ll have another slice. This going to church -takes it out of a fellow.”</p> - -<p>Jim Macauley howled. “Going to church! Coming -away, you mean. Just a look-in, for yours. As to the -way you like your preachers, my private opinion is you -don’t like ’em at all.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[13]</span>“Mr. Black doesn’t look like a poet, Red.” It was -Martha Macauley again. She and her brother-in-law seldom -agreed upon any topic. “He has the jolliest twinkle -in those black eyes—and his hair is so crisp with trying -to curl that it doesn’t stay parted well at all—it was all -rumpled up before the end of his sermon. And he has a -fine, healthy colour—and the nicest smile——”</p> - -<p>Burns sighed. “Jim, suppose there was a man up for -the governorship in our state, and we went around talking -about his eyes and his hair and his smile! Oh, Christopher! -Don’t you women ever think about a man’s <i>brains</i>?—what -he has <i>in</i> his head—not <i>on</i> it?”</p> - -<p>“It was you who began to talk about his looks!” Mrs. -Macauley pointed out triumphantly.</p> - -<p>“Check!” called James, her husband. “She scores, -Red! You did begin a lot of pretty mean personal observations -about his mother parting his hair, and so forth. -Shame!—it wasn’t sporting of you. The preacher has -brains, brother—brains, I tell you. I saw ’em myself, -through his skull. And he’s got a pretty little muscle, -too. When he gripped my hand I felt the bones crack—and -me a golf player. I don’t know where he got his—but -he’s got it. These athletic parsons—look out for -’em. They’re liable to turn the other cheek, according -to instructions in the Scriptures, and then hit you a crack -with a good right arm. It struck me this chap hadn’t -been sitting on cushions all his life. You’ll outweigh him -by about fifty pounds, but I’ll bet he could down you in a -wrestling match.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, and I’ll bet you’d like to see him do it,” murmured -Red Pepper, becoming genial again under the influence -of his second cup of very strong coffee, which was banishing -his weariness like magic, as usual. “Well, you<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[14]</span> -won’t right away, because we’re not likely to get to that -stage of intimacy for some time. Ministers and doctors -meet mostly in places where each has a good chance to criticize -the other’s job. When I come to die I’d rather have -my old friend, Max Buller, M.D., to say a prayer for me—if -he knows how—than any preacher who ever came down -the pike—except one, and that was a corking old bishop -who was the best sport I ever met in my life. Oh, it isn’t -that I don’t respect the profession—I do. But I want a -minister to be a man as well, and I——”</p> - -<p>“But it isn’t quite fair to take it for granted that he -isn’t one, is it, Red?” inquired the charming woman -at the other side of the table who was his wife.</p> - -<p>James Macauley laughed. “Innocent of not being a -man till he’s proved guilty, eh, Red?” he suggested. -“You know I really have quite a strong suspicion that -this particular minister is a regular fellow. The way he -looked me in the eye—well—I may be no judge of men——”</p> - -<p>“You’re not,” declared his opponent, frankly. “Any -chap with a cheerful grin and a plausible line of talk can -put it all over you. You’re too good-natured to live. -Now me—I’m a natural born cynic—I see too many faces -with the mask off not to be. I——”</p> - -<p>“Yes, <i>you</i>! You’re the kind of cynic who’d sit up all -night with a preacher or any other man you happened to -hate, and save his life, and then floor him the first time -you met him afterward by telling him you hadn’t any bill -against him because you weren’t a vet’rinary and didn’t -charge for treating donkeys.”</p> - -<p>“Call that a joke—or an insult?” growled Red Pepper; -then laughed and switched the subject.</p> - -<p>But next Sunday he did not see fit to get to church -at all, and on the following Sunday he couldn’t have<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[15]</span> -done it if he’d tried, not having a minute to breathe in for -himself while fighting like a fiend to keep the breath of -life in a fellow-human. And between times he caught -not a sight of Robert Black, who, however, caught -several sights of him. R. P. Burns was in the habit of -driving with his face straight ahead, to avoid bowing -every other minute to his myriad acquaintances and patients. -Though Black tried very hard more than once -to catch his eye when passing him close by the curb, he -had a view only of the clean-cut profile, the lips usually -close set, the brows drawn over the intent eyes. For -Red was accustomed to think out his operative cases while -on the road, and when a man is mentally making incisions, -tying arteries, and blocking out the shortest cut to a cure, -he has little time to be recognizing passing citizens, not to -mention a preacher whom he persists in considering too -much of a “kid” for his taste, in the pulpit or out of it.</p> - -<p>But Black, as you have been told, was of Scottish blood, -and a Scot bides his time. Black meant to know Red, and -know him well. He was pretty sure that the way to know -him was not to go and hang around his office, or to call -upon his wife with Red sure to be away—as Black discovered -he always was, in ordinary calling hours. He -knew he couldn’t go and lay his hand on Red’s shoulder -at a street corner and tell him he wanted to know him. In -fact, neither these nor any other of the ordinary methods -of bringing about an acquaintance with a man as a preliminary -to a friendship seemed to him to promise well. The -best he could do was to wait and watch an opportunity, -and then—well—if he could somehow do something to -help Red out in a crisis, or even to serve him in some really -significant way without making any fuss about it, he felt -that possibly the thing he desired might come about.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[16]</span> -Meanwhile—that blow over the heart which he had received -at the first sight of the big red-headed doctor continued -to make itself felt. Therefore, while Black went -with a will at all the new duties of his large parish, and -made friends right and left—particularly with his men, -because he liked men and found it easier to get on with -them than with women—he did not for a day relax his -watch for the time when he should send a counter blow in -under the guard which he somehow felt was up against -him, or forget to plan to make it a telling one when he -should deliver it.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[17]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER II<br /> - - -<small>HEADLINES</small></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">“HARPS and voices!” ejaculated Robert Black, quite -unconscious of the source of his poetic expletive, -“how are my poor little two hundred and thirty-one -books going to make any kind of a showing here?”</p> - -<p>Small wonder that he looked dismayed. He had just -caught his first sight of the dignified manse study, with -its long rows of empty black walnut bookcases stretching, -five shelves high, across three sides of the large room. -The manse, fortunately for a bachelor, was furnished -as to the main necessities of living, but it wanted all the -details which go to make a home. Though the study contained -a massive black walnut desk and chair, a big -leather armchair, a luxurious leather couch, and a very -good and ecclesiastically sombre rug upon its floor, it -seemed bare enough to a man who had lately left a warm -little room of nondescript furnishing but most homelike -atmosphere. To tell the truth, Black was feeling something -resembling a touch of homesickness which seemed -to centre in an old high-backed wooden rocking-chair -cushioned with “Turkey red.” He was wondering if he -might send for that homely old chair, and if he should, how -it would look among these dignified surroundings. He -didn’t care a picayune how it might look—he decided that -he simply had to have it if he stayed. Which proved that -it really was homesickness for his country parish which<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[18]</span> -had attacked him that morning. Why not? Do you -think him less of a man for that?</p> - -<p>“Oh, yours’ll go quite a way!” young Tom Lockhart -assured him cheerfully. “And you can use the rest of the -space for magazines and papers.”</p> - -<p>“Thanks!” replied Black, rather grimly grateful for -this comforting suggestion. He and the twenty-year-old -son of his hostess had become very good friends in the -two days which had elapsed since Black’s arrival. He had -an idea that Tom was going to be a distinct asset in the -days to come. The young man’s fair hair and blue eyes -were by no means indicative of softness—being counteracted -by a pugnacious snub nose, a chin so positive that it -might easily become a menace, and a grin which decidedly -suggested impishness.</p> - -<p>“I’ll help unpack these, if you like.”</p> - -<p>Tom laid hold of the books with a will. Black, his coat -off, set them up, thereby indisputably demonstrating that -two hundred and thirty-one volumes, even though a round -two dozen of them be bulky with learning, certainly do -fill an inconceivably small space.</p> - -<p>“Well, anyhow,” he said, resting from his labours, and -determinedly turning away from the embarrassing testimony -of the bookshelves as to his resources, to the invitation -of the massive desk to be equipped with the proper -appliances to work, “a few pictures and things will help -to make it look as if somebody lived here. I’ve several -pretty good photographs and prints I thought I’d frame -when I got here—I’ve been saving them up for some -time.”</p> - -<p>He exhibited the collection with pride—they had lain -across the top of the books. Tom Lockhart hung over -them critically.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[19]</span>“They’re bully!” was his judgment. “Not a bit -what I’d have expected. Not a saint or a harp among -’em. Oh, gee!—that horse race is great! Where’d you -get that? I mean—it’s foreign, isn’t it?”</p> - -<p>Black laughed. “That’s just a bit of a hurdle race we -had in a little town down South. I’m on one of those -horses.”</p> - -<p>“You are! Oh, yes—I see—on the front one! Why, -say—” he turned to Black, enthusiasm lighting his face—“you’re -one of those regular horse-riding Southerners. -This is on your family estate, I’ll wager.”</p> - -<p>Black’s face flushed a little, but his eyes met the boy’s -frankly. “I was born in Scotland, and came over here -when I was sixteen. I worked for the man who lived in -that house back there at the left. He let me ride his -horses. I broke the black one for him—and rode him to a -finish in that race. I was only seventeen then.”</p> - -<p>Tom stared for a minute before his manners came -to the rescue. “That’s awfully interesting,” he said then, -politely. Black could see the confusion and wonderment -in his mind as plainly as if the boy had given expression -to it. If the information had let Tom down a little, -the next instant he rallied to the recognition that here was -a man out of the ordinary. Tom was not a snob, but he -had never before heard a minister own to “working” for -anybody, and it had startled him slightly. But when he -regarded Black, he saw a man who, while he looked as if -he had never worked for anybody, had not hesitated to -declare that he had. Tom thought he liked the combination.</p> - -<p>“If you could tell me of a good place to get these -framed,” Black said, gathering up the photographs and -prints as he spoke, “I believe I’ll have it done right away.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[20]</span> -It’s the one thing that’ll make this big house seem a little -more like home.”</p> - -<p>“That’s right. And I can tell you a peach of a place—in -fact I’ll take you there, if you want to go right now. -It’s on our way back home. By the way—” young -Tom glanced round the big bare room—“if there’s any -stuff you want to get for the house to give it a kind of a -jolly air, you know, you’ll find it right there, at Jane Ray’s. -She can advise you, too.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t suppose I’ll get anything but the frames,” -Black answered cautiously, as the two went out together. -He had received an advance on his new salary, and therefore -he had more money in his pocket than he had ever had -before at one time, but he was too much in the habit of -needing to count every penny to think of starting out -to buy anything not strictly necessary. And already he -knew Tom for the usual careless spender, the rich man’s -son. Very likely, he thought, this place to which Tom was -to take him was the most expensive place in the suburban -town. On second thought, he decided to take along only -two of his pictures—till he knew the prices he must pay.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>It had not been a particularly busy morning for Jane -Ray. She was occupied with only one customer at the -moment when Robert Black and young Thomas Lockhart -came down the side street upon which fronted her shop—a -side street down which many feet were accustomed to -turn, in search of Jane and her wares.</p> - -<p>The customer with whom she was occupied stood with -her at the rear of the shop before several specimens of -antique desks and chairs. All about were other pieces, -some of them proclaiming themselves rather rare. Jane -Ray herself also looked rather rare—for a shopkeeper,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[21]</span> -inasmuch as she did not look like a shopkeeper at all, -though the chaste severity of her business attire rivalled -that of her latest acquired possession over which that -morning she was gloating—a genuine Adam mirror. This -mirror reflected faithfully Jane’s smooth, chestnut brown -head, her slightly dusky skin with an underlying tinge of -pink, her dark eyes which held a spice of mischief in spite -of their cool alertness of glance, her faintly aggressive -chin—which meant that she could argue with you about -the value of her goods and hold her own, and in the end -convince you, without making you unhappy about it—which -is a rare accomplishment, especially in so young a -woman as was Miss Ray.</p> - -<p>Robert Black and Tom, the latter self-constituted guide -to furnishing a manse with what might be called its superfluous -necessities, entered the shop and stood waiting. -Jane saw them in her Adam mirror, but she continued to -discuss with her other customer the relative merits of a -Chippendale desk having all manner of hidden springs -and drawers in it, with those of a Sheraton pouch-table, -a work-table with a silken bag beneath it, and essentially -feminine in its appeal. The customer was making a present -to his wife, and had fled to Jane in this trying emergency—as -did many another man. Jane always knew.</p> - -<p>“Isn’t this some place?” murmured young Lockhart, -proudly, hanging over a glass show-case on a cherry -gate-table. “Ever get into a woman’s shop that catered -to men like this one? Look at this case of pipes—aren’t -they stunners? She knows all there is to know about -every last thing she sells, and what’s more, she never keeps -anything but good stuff. Some of it’s pretty rare, and all -of it’s corking. Look at those cats’ eyes!”</p> - -<p>But Black had caught sight of certain headlines in a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[22]</span> -New York daily lying beside the case of semi-precious -stones which had attracted Tom. It was a late morning -edition, and this suburban town lay too far from New -York for the later morning editions to reach it before early -afternoon—anyhow, they were not to be had at the news-stands -before two o’clock, as Black had discovered yesterday. -He seized the paper, wondering how this woman -shopkeeper had achieved the impossible. He was a voracious -reader of war-news, this Scotsman by blood and -American to the last loyal drop of it. But he was not satisfied -with America’s part in the great conflict. For this -was April, nineteen sixteen, and the thing had been going -on for almost two years.</p> - -<p>He devoured the black headlines.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p class="center">“NO BREAK IN THE FRENCH LINES YET.<br /> -SEVENTH WEEK OF THE STRUGGLE AT VERDUN<br /> -TOTAL GAIN ONLY FOUR TO FIVE MILES<br /> -ON A THIRTY-FIVE MILE FRONT.”</p> -</div> - -<p>He flamed into low, swift speech, striking the paper -before him with his fist. Tom, listening, forgot to gaze -upon the contents of the case before him.</p> - -<p>“Those French—aren’t they magnificent? Why -aren’t we there, fighting by their sides? Oh, we’ll get -there yet, but it’s hard to wait. Think of those fellows—holding -on two long, anxious years! And they came over -here—Lafayette and the rest—and poured out their blood -and their money for us. And we think we’re doing something -when we send them a little food and some tobacco -to buck up on!”</p> - -<p>“I say—do you want to fight—a minister? Why, I -thought all your profession asked for was peace!” Young<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[23]</span> -Tom’s tone was curious. He did not soon forget the look -in the face of the man who answered him.</p> - -<p>“Peace! We do want peace—but not peace without -honour! And no minister fit to preach preaches anything -like that! Don’t think it of us!”</p> - -<p>“Well, I used to hear Doctor Curtin—the man before -you. He seemed to think—— But I didn’t agree with -him,” Tom hastened to say, suddenly deciding it best not -to quote the pacific utterances of the former holder of the -priestly office. “I thought we ought to go to it. If this -country ever does get into it—though Dad thinks it’ll all be -settled this year—you bet I’ll enlist.”</p> - -<p>“Enlist! I should say so!” And Black took up the -paper again, eagerly reading aloud the account which followed -the headlines of the sturdy holding of the fiercely -contested ground at Verdun—that name which will be remembered -while the world lasts.</p> - -<p>He looked up at length to find that the other customer -had gone, and that Miss Ray, the shopkeeper, had come -forward. He looked into a face which reflected his own -pride in the French prowess, and forgot for the instant that -he had come to buy of her or that she was there to sell.</p> - -<p>“It’s great, isn’t it—the way they are holding?” she -said, in a pleasant, low voice.</p> - -<p>“Great?—it’s glorious! By the way—how do you get -hold of this late edition so early?”</p> - -<p>“Have it sent up by special messenger from the city. -Otherwise it would be held over with the rest of the papers -till the two o’clock train.”</p> - -<p>Tom broke in. “Pretty clever of you, <i>I</i> say, Miss Ray. -Just like the rest of your business methods—always ahead -of the other fellow!”</p> - -<p>“Thank you, Mr. Lockhart,” Miss Ray answered.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[24]</span> -“It wouldn’t do to let one’s methods become as antique -as one’s goods in this case, would it?”</p> - -<p>“Miss Ray, I want to present my friend, Mr. Black.” -Tom forgot his new friend’s title as he made this introduction, -but of course it didn’t matter. Though Miss -Ray seldom attended church anywhere, she could hardly -fail, in the talkative suburban town, to know that at -the “Stone Church” there was a new man. “He wants -to get some of his pictures framed, and of course I led -him here,” added Tom, with his boyish grin. He looked -at Miss Ray with his usual frankly admiring gaze. No -doubt but she was worth it. Not often does a woman -shopkeeper achieve the subtle effect of being a young -hostess in her own apartments as did Jane Ray. And, as -every woman shopkeeper knows, that is the highest, as -it is the most difficult, art of shopkeeping.</p> - -<p>She scanned the pictures—one that of the hurdle race, -the other a view of a country road, with a white spired -church in the distance. In no time she had them fitted -into precisely the right frames, these enhancing their -values as well-chosen frames do. Delighted but still -cautious, Black inquired the prices. Miss Ray mentioned -them, adding the phrase with which he was familiar, “with -the clerical discount.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you!” acknowledged Black. “What are they -without the discount, please?”</p> - -<p>Miss Ray glanced at him. “I am accustomed to give -it,” she observed.</p> - -<p>“I am accustomed not to take it,” said the Scotsman, -firmly. “But I’m just as much obliged.”</p> - -<p>She smiled, and told him the regular price. He counted -this out, expressed his pleasure in having found precisely -what he wanted, and led the way out.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[25]</span>Jane Ray looked after his well-set shoulders, noting -that he did not put his hat upon his close-cut, inclined-to-be-wirily-curly -black hair until he had reached the street. -Then she looked down at the money in her hand. -“Wouldn’t take a discount—and didn’t ask me to come -to his church,” she commented to herself. “Must be -rather a new sort.” She then promptly dismissed him -from her thoughts—until later in the day, when the memory -was brought back to her by another incident.</p> - -<p>It was well along in the afternoon, and she had just -sold a genuine Eli Terry “grandfather” clock at a fair -profit, and had bargained for and secured several very -beautiful pieces of Waterford glass which she had long -coveted. A succession of heavy showers had cleared her -shop, and she had found time to open a long roll which the -expressman had delivered in the morning, when the shop -door admitted a person to whom she turned an eager -face.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I’m glad it’s you!” she said. “Come and see -what I have <i>now</i>!”</p> - -<p>“Nothing doing,” replied R. P. Burns, M.D., with, -however, a smile which belied his words. “I want a -present for a sick baby I’m going to fix up in the morning. -One of those painted Russian things of yours—the last -boy went crazy over ’em. No time for antiques.”</p> - -<p>“This isn’t an antique—it’s the last word from the -front, and <i>you’ll</i> go crazy over <i>it</i>,” replied Miss Ray. -Nevertheless she left the roll and went to a corner in the -back of the shop given over to all sorts of foreign made and -fascinating wooden toys. She selected a bear with a -wide smile and feet which walked, and a gay-hued parrot -on a stick, and took them to the big man who was waiting, -like Mercury, poised on an impatient foot. While he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[26]</span> -counted out the change she slipped over to her roll of -heavy papers, took out one, and when he looked up again -it was straight into a great French war poster held at -the length of Jane’s extended arms. He stared hard at it, -and well he might, for it was by one of the most famous -of French artists, whose imagination had been flaming -with the vision of the desperate day.</p> - -<p>“Well, by Joe!” Burns ejaculated, his hurry forgot. -“I say——”</p> - -<p>The poster’s owner waited quietly, lost to view behind -the big sheet. Burns studied every detail of the picture, -losing no suggestion indicated by the clever lines of the -inspired pencil. It was only a rough sketch, impressionistic -to the last degree, yet holding unspoken volumes in -each bold outline. Then he drew a deep breath.</p> - -<p>“Where did you get it?” he asked, as Jane lowered the -poster. His eye went back to the roll lying half opened on -a mahogany table near by.</p> - -<p>“They were sent over by an officer I know—straight -from Paris. That isn’t the most wonderful one by half, -but I want you to see the rest when you’re not so rushed -for time.”</p> - -<p>“I’m not particularly rushed,” replied Burns, with a -grin. “At least, I can stop if you’ve any more like this. -I have to tear in and out of your place, you know, because -there’s always some idiot lurking behind one of your -screens to leap out and ask me searching questions about -patients. If you’ll bar your doors to the public some day, -I’ll come and spend an hour gazing at your stuff. Let’s -see the posters, please.”</p> - -<p>Jane spread them out, one after another, till half the -shop was covered. Burns walked from poster to poster, -intent, frowning with interest, his quick intelligence recognizing<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[27]</span> -the extraordinary impressions he was getting, his -own imagination firing under the stimulus of an art at its -marvellous best. Before one of the smaller posters he -lingered longest—a wash drawing in colour of a poilu -holding his child in his arms, with its mother looking into -his face.</p> - -<p>“He’s just a kid, that fellow,” he said, in a smothered -tone, “just a kid, but he’s giving ’em both up. He won’t -come back—somehow you know that. And—it doesn’t -seem to matter, if he helps save his country. See here—you -ought to do something with these. If the people of -this town could see them, a few more of them might wake -up to the idea that there’s a war on somewhere.”</p> - -<p>“As soon as some English ones come I’ve sent for I -intend to have an exhibition, here in my shop, and sell -them—for the benefit of French and Belgian orphans. I -expect to get all kinds of prices. Will you auction them -off for me?”</p> - -<p>“You bet I will—if I can do it explosively enough. I’d -do anything on earth for a little chap like that.” He indicated -a wistful Belgian baby at the edge of a group of -children. “Here are our youngsters, fed up within an -inch of their lives, and these poor little duffers living on -scraps, and too few of those. Oh, what a contrast! As -for ourselves—we come around and buy antiques to make -our homes more stunning!”</p> - -<p>He looked her in the eye, and she looked steadily back. -Then she went over to an impressive Georgian desk, -opened a drawer and took out a black-bound book. Returning, -she silently held it out to him. It was a text book -on nursing, one of those required in a regulation hospital -course.</p> - -<p>“Eh? What?” he ejaculated, taking the book. “Studying,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[28]</span> -are you—all by yourself? How far are you?” He -flipped the pages. “I see. Are you serious?—You, a -successful business woman? What do you want to do it -for?”</p> - -<p>“Absolutely serious. This country will go into the -war some day—it must, or I can’t respect it any more. -And when it does—well, keeping an antique shop will be -the deadest thing there is. I’ll nail up the door and go -‘over there.’”</p> - -<p>“And not to collect curios this time?” His bright -hazel eyes were studying her intently.</p> - -<p>“Hardly. To be of use, if I can. I thought the more -I knew of nursing——”</p> - -<p>“You can’t get very far alone, you know.”</p> - -<p>“I can get far enough so that when I do manage to take -a course I can rush it—can’t I?”</p> - -<p>“Don’t know—hard to cut any red tape. But all -preparation counts, of course. Well—I’ll give you a question -to answer that’ll show up what you do know.”</p> - -<p>He proceeded to do this, considering for a minute, and -then firing at her not one but a series of interrogations. -These were not unkindly technical, but designed to test -her practical knowledge of the pages—which according to -the marker he had found—she had evidently lately finished. -The answers she gave him appeared to satisfy him, -though he did not say so. Instead, closing the book with -a snap, he said:</p> - -<p>“When you sail my wife and I will be on the same ship. -We’d be there now if we had our way—it’s all we talk -about. Well——”</p> - -<p>And he was about to say that he must hurry like mad -now to make up for time well lost, when the shop door -opened to admit out of a sharp dash of rain a customer<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[29]</span> -who was trying to shelter a flat package beneath his coat. -For the second time that day Robert Black was bringing -pictures to be framed; in fact, they were the rest of the pile -which he had not ventured to bring the first time, lest Miss -Ray’s prices be too high for him.</p> - -<p>Red gave him one look, and would have fled, but Black -did not make for the big doctor with outstretched hand—in -fact, he did not seem to see him. At the very front of -the shop stood a particularly distinguished looking Hepplewhite -sideboard, its serpentine front exquisitely inlaid -with satinwood, its location one to catch the eye. It -caught Black’s eye—but not because of any cunning -design of maker or shopkeeper. Having filled the available -space in the rear of the shop with her war posters, -Jane had worked toward the front, and the last and most -splendid of them she had propped upon the sideboard. -In front of it Black now came to a standstill, and Red, -intending to leave the place in haste at sight of the minister -he was in no hurry to meet, involuntarily paused -to note the effect upon the “Kid”—as he persisted in -calling him—of the poster’s touchingly convincing appeal.</p> - -<p>It was a drawing in black and white of a French mother -taking leave of her son, that subject which has employed -so many clever pens and brushes since the war began, but -than which there is none more universally powerful in its -importunity. The indomitable courage in the face of the -Frenchwoman had in it a touch beyond that of the ordinary -artist to convey—one could not analyze it, but it -gripped the heart none the less, as Red himself could testify. -He now watched it grip Black.</p> - -<p>Without taking his eyes from the picture Black propped -his umbrella against a chair, laid his hat and his package -upon it, and stood still before the Frenchwoman and her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[30]</span> -boy, unconscious of anything else. And as he stood there, -slowly his hands, hanging at his sides, became fists which -clenched themselves. Red, observing, his own hand upon -the big wrought-iron latch of the door, paused still a moment -longer. The “Kid” cared, did he? How much did -he care, then? Red found himself rather wanting to know.</p> - -<p>Black looked up at last, saw the other man, saw that he -was the quarry he was so anxious to run down, but only -said, as his gaze returned to the poster, “And she’s -only one of thousands, all with a spirit like that!”</p> - -<p>“Only one,” Red agreed. “They’re astonishing, those -Frenchwomen.” Then he went on out and closed the door -behind him.</p> - -<p>After he had gone he admitted to himself that since his -wife was a member of this man’s church, and Black probably -knew that fact, he himself might have stayed long -enough to shake hands. At close range his eyesight, -trained to observe, had not been able to avoid noting that -Black was no boy, after all. There had been that in the -face he had momentarily turned toward Red to show -plainly that he was in the full first maturity of manhood. -It may be significant that from this moment, in whatever -terms Red spoke of the minister at home when he was -forced by the exigencies of conversation to mention him at -all, he ceased to call him “the Kid.” So, though Black -did not know it, he had passed at least one barrier to getting -to know the man he meant to make his friend.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[31]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER III<br /> - - -<small>NO ANÆSTHETIC</small></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">OF COURSE the day came, as it inevitably must, when -Black and Red actually met, face to face, with no -way out but to shake hands, look each other in the eye, -and consider their acquaintance made? No, that day of -proper introduction never came. But the day did come -on which they looked each other in the eye without shaking -hands—and another day, a long time after, they did -shake hands. As to their friendship—but that’s what -this story is about.</p> - -<p>The day on which they looked each other in the eye -first was on a Sunday morning, rather early. Black had -done a perfectly foolhardy thing. It was a late June -day, and the cherries in a certain tree just outside his -bathroom window were blood-red ripe and tempting. -Fresh from his cold tub—clad in shirt and trousers, unshaven—his -mouth watering at the thought of eating -cherries before breakfast, he climbed out of the window -upon the sloping roof of the side porch, and let himself -down to the edge to reach the cherries. He never knew -how the fool thing happened, really; the only thing he did -know was that he slipped suddenly upon the edge of the -roof, wet with an early morning shower, and fell heavily -to the ground below, striking on his right shoulder. And -then, presently, he was sitting at the telephone in his -study, addressing R. P. Burns, M.D., in terms which<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[32]</span> -strove to be casual, inviting him to make a morning call -at the manse.</p> - -<p>“I’d come over myself,” he explained, “but I’m -ashamed to say I’m a trifle shaky.”</p> - -<p>“Naturally,” replied the crisp voice at the other end of -the wire. “Go and lie down till I get there.”</p> - -<p>“Please have your breakfast first,” requested Black, -struggling hard to master a growing faintness. Whatever -he had done to his shoulder, it hurt rather badly, though -he didn’t mind that so much as the idea of disgracing himself -in Burns’ eyes by going white and flabby over what -was probably a trivial injury. To be sure he couldn’t -use his arm, but it didn’t occur to him that he had actually -dislocated that shoulder by so trifling a means as a slip -from the manse roof. The manse roof, of all places! It -wasn’t built for incumbent ministers to go upon, between -a bath and a shave, and tumble from like a little boy—and -on a Sunday morning, too!</p> - -<p>The answer Red gave to Black’s suggestion that he -have breakfast before coming resembled a grunt more than -anything else. Black couldn’t determine whether the red-headed -doctor meant to do it or not. The question was -settled within five minutes by the arrival of Red, who -came straight in at the open manse door, followed the call -Black gave, “In here, please—at your left,” and appeared -in the study doorway, surgical bag in his hand, and a somewhat -grim expression—with which Black had already become -familiar at a distance—upon his lips. Black sat in -his red-cushioned wooden rocker, that most incongruous -piece of furniture in the midst of the black walnut dignity -of the manse study, and in it his appearance suggested -that of a sick boy who has taken refuge in his mother’s -arms. Indeed, it may have been with somewhat of that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[33]</span> -feeling that he had chosen it as the place in which to wait -the coming of aid. Anyhow, his face, under its unshaven -blur of beard, looked rather white, though his voice was -steady.</p> - -<p>“Mighty sorry to bother you at this hour, Doctor -Burns,” he began, but was interrupted.</p> - -<p>“Didn’t I tell you to lie down? What’s the use of -sitting up and getting faint?”</p> - -<p>“I’m all right.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I see! All alone here? Thought you had a -housekeeper.” Red was opening up his bag and laying -out supplies as he spoke.</p> - -<p>“I have. She’s gone home for over Sunday.”</p> - -<p>“They usually have—when anything happens. Well, -come over here on this couch, if you can walk, and we’ll -see what the trouble is.”</p> - -<p>Black demonstrated that he could walk, though it -was with considerable effort. Through all his undeniable -faintness he was thinking with some exultation that this -was a perfectly good chance to meet Red—and on his own -ground, too. What luck!</p> - -<p>Red made a brief examination.</p> - -<p>“You’ve fixed that shoulder, all right,” he announced. -“No matter—we’ll have you under a whiff of ether, and -reduce it in a jiffy.”</p> - -<p>“Thanks—no ether, please. You mean I’ve dislocated -it?” inquired the patient, speaking with some difficulty.</p> - -<p>“Good and proper. Here you are——” And without -loss of time a peculiarly shaped article, made of wire and -gauze and smelling abominably, came over Black’s face. -It was instantly removed.</p> - -<p>“I believe I said no ether, if you please!” remarked an -extraordinarily obstinate voice.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[34]</span>“Nonsense, man! I’m only going to give you enough -to relax you. I see some good stiff muscles there that -may give me trouble.”</p> - -<p>“Ether’ll make me sick, and I’ve got to preach this -morning.”</p> - -<p>“Preach—nothing!”</p> - -<p>“It may be nothing,” agreed the patient, “but I’m -going to preach it, just the same. And I won’t have an -anæsthetic, thank you just as much, Doctor.”</p> - -<p>Red said no more. No surgeon but is astute enough -to tell whether a patient is bluffing or whether he means it. -Unquestionably, though Black’s face was the colour of -ashes, he meant it. Therefore Red proceeded to reduce the -dislocation, without the advantage to himself—or to the -patient—of the relaxing aid of the anæsthetic. It was a -bad dislocation, and it took the doctor’s own sturdy muscles -and all his professional skill to do the trick in a few -quick, efficient moves and one tremendous pull. But it was -all over in less time that it takes to tell it, and only one low -groan had escaped Black’s tightly pressed lips. Nevertheless -his forehead was wet and cold when he lay limp -at the end of that bad sixty seconds.</p> - -<p>A strong arm came under his shoulders, and a glass was -held to his lips. “Drink this—you’ll be all right in a -minute,” said a rather far-away voice, and Black obediently -swallowed something which he didn’t much like—and -which he probably would have refused to take if he -had suspected that it was going to help buck him up the -way it did. He had an absurd idea of not allowing himself -to be bucked up by anything but his own will—not in the -presence of Red, anyhow.</p> - -<p>“Some nerve—for a preacher,” presently said the voice -which sounded nearer now.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[35]</span>“Why—a preacher?” inquired Black, as belligerently -as a man can who is stretched upon his back with his coat -off, his arm being bandaged to his side, and a twenty-four -hours’ growth of beard on his somewhat aggressive chin.</p> - -<p>“Never mind,” Red commanded. “We won’t have it -out now. I don’t blame you—that was hitting a man -when he’s down.”</p> - -<p>“I’m not down.” Black attempted to sit up. A -vigorous arm detained him where he was.</p> - -<p>“Just keep quiet a few minutes, and you’ll be the gainer -in the end. By the way—can you shave with your left -hand?”</p> - -<p>“I never tried it.” Black’s left hand took account of -his cheek and chin. “I was just going to shave when -those—fool—cherries caught my eye.”</p> - -<p>“Where’s your shaving stuff?”</p> - -<p>Black looked up, startled. “Oh, I can’t let you——”</p> - -<p>“Who’s going to do it? If you must preach, you don’t -want to go to it looking like a pugilist, do you? Though -I’m not so sure——” Red left the sentence unfinished, -while a wicked smile played round his lips.</p> - -<p>“I’ll do it myself—or send for a barber.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, come on, Black! I’m perfectly competent to do -the job, and now I’ve got my hand in on you I’d like to -leave you looking the part you wouldn’t insist on playing -if you weren’t pretty game. I’m not so sure I ought to -let you——”</p> - -<p>“I’d like to see you help it,” declared Black, and now he -was smiling, too, and feeling distinctly better.</p> - -<p>So it ended by Red’s going upstairs after the shaving -materials, and then shaving Black, and doing it with -decidedly less finish of style than might have been expected -of a crack surgeon with a large reputation. He<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[36]</span> -cut his victim once, and Black, putting up a hand and -getting it all blood and lather, grinned up into Red’s face, -who grinned back and expressed his regret at the slip. -This does not mean that they had become friends—not -from Red’s standpoint, at least, who would have befriended -a sick dog and then shot him without compunction -because he didn’t want him around. But it does -mean that at last the two had met, on a man-to-man basis, -and that Red’s respect for the man he had been in no -hurry to meet had been considerably augmented. Black -was pretty sure of this, and it helped to brace him more -than the stimulant had done.</p> - -<p>Two hours later Red cut a call on a rich patient much -shorter than was politic, in order to get to the Stone -Church in time to slip into a back pew. Before going in -he gave young Perkins instructions not to call him out -before the sermon ended for anything short of murder -on the church doorstep, surprising that lively usher very -much, since it was the first time such a thing had ever -happened. In making this effort Red had Black in mind -as a patient rather than a minister. A severe dislocation -must naturally cause a certain amount of nervous shock -which might prove disastrous to a man attempting to -carry through a long service and spend most of the period -upon his feet, within two hours after the accident occurred. -Game though Black might be—well—Red admitted to -himself that he rather wanted to see how the fellow whom -he could no longer call “the Kid” would see the thing -through.</p> - -<p>Reactions are curious things. In this case, though it -was true that Black had to steady himself more than once -to keep his congregation from whirling dizzily and disconcertingly -before his eyes, had to set his teeth and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[37]</span> -summon every ounce of will he possessed to keep on -through the first three quarters of his service, after all it -was Red who got the most of the reaction. For the sermon -which Black preached contained a bomb thrown -straight at the heads of a parish which, with half the world -at war, was in its majority distinctly pacifist—as was -many another church during the year of 1916. Black, -before his sermon was done, had taken an out-and-out, -unflinching stand for the place of the Church in times of -war, and had declared that it must be on the side of the -sword, when the sword was the only weapon which could -thrust its way to peace.</p> - -<p>Red, listening closely, forgetting that the man before -him was his patient, found himself involuntarily admitting -that whatever else he was, Robert McPherson Black was -fearless in his speech. And there was probably no use in -denying that the fellow had a way of putting things that, -as James Macauley had asserted, effectually prevented the -man in the pew from becoming absorbed in reveries of his -own. It had been by no means unusual for R. P. Burns, -surgeon, expecting to do a critical operation on Monday -morning, to perform that operation in detail on Sunday -morning, while sitting with folded arms and intent expression -before a man who was endeavouring to interest -him in spiritual affairs. On the present occasion, however, -though the coming Monday’s clinical schedule was full to -the hatches, Red was unable to detach himself for a moment -from the subject being handled so vigorously by -Black. Thus, listening through to the closing words, he -discovered himself to be aflame with fires which another -hand had kindled, and that hand, most marvellously, a -preacher’s.</p> - -<p>Young Perkins, hovering close to the rear seat into<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[38]</span> -which Red had stolen upon coming in just before the sermon, -considered the embargo raised with the closing -words of Black, and had his whispered summons ready -precisely as Black began his brief closing prayer. The -scowl with which Red motioned him away surprised Perkins -very much, causing him to retreat to the outer door, -where in due season he delivered his message to the leisurely -departing doctor—departing leisurely because he -was eavesdropping.</p> - -<p>“Well, I don’t know about that,” he had overheard one -man of prominence saying to another in the vestibule. -“Strikes me that’s going pretty strong. What’s the use -of stirring up trouble? That sort of talk’s going to offend. -Pulpit’s not called upon to go into matters of state—particularly -now, when public sentiment’s so divided. -Somebody better put a flea in his ear, eh?”</p> - -<p>The other man nodded. “I believe a good deal as he -does myself,” he admitted, cautiously, “but I don’t hold -with offending people who have as good a right to their -opinions as he has. I saw Johnstone wriggling more than -once, toward the last—and he’s about the last man we -want to make mad.”</p> - -<p>R. P. Burns laid a heavy hand on the speaker’s arm. -Turning, the other man looked into a pair of contemptuous -hazel eyes, with whose glance, both friendly and fiery, -he had been long familiar. “Oh, <i>rot</i>!” said a low voice in -his ear.</p> - -<p>“What do you mean?”</p> - -<p>“Just that. Think it out.” And Burns was gone, in -the press, with the quickness now of one accustomed to -get where he would go, no matter how many were in the -way.</p> - -<p>He marched around to the vestry door, where he found<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[39]</span> -Black standing, his gown off, his face gone rather white, -though it had been full of colour when Red saw it last.</p> - -<p>“Faint?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“No—thanks, I’m all right. Just thought I’d like a -whiff of fresh air.”</p> - -<p>“Take a few deep breaths. I’ll give you a pick-up, if -you say so.”</p> - -<p>Black shook his head. “I’m all right,” he repeated.</p> - -<p>“Shoulder ache?”</p> - -<p>“Not much. I’m all right, I tell you, Doctor. Can’t -you get over the idea that a preacher is a man of straw? -Why, I—will you try a wrestle with me, sometime—when -my shoulder’s fit again?”</p> - -<p>Red laughed. “Down you in two minutes and fifteen -seconds,” he prophesied.</p> - -<p>“Try it, and see.” And Black walked back into the -church, his cheek losing its pallor in a hurry.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>On that Sunday the Lockharts, his first entertainers, -insisted that he come to dinner. Though he had kept -his slung shoulder and arm under his gown, the facts -showed plainly, and the congregation was full of sympathy. -With his housekeeper away, Black could find no -way out, though he would have much preferred remaining -quietly in his study, with four cups of coffee of his own -amateur making, and whatever he could find in his larder -left over from Saturday.</p> - -<p>So he went to the Lockharts’, and there he met a person -who had been in his congregation that morning, but whom -he had not noted. She had seen that he had not noted -her, but she had made up her mind that such blindness -should not long continue. Her appearance was one well -calculated to arrest the eye of man, and Black’s eye,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[40]</span> -though it was accustomed to dwell longer upon man than -upon woman, was not one calculated by Nature to be -altogether and indefinitely undiscerning.</p> - -<p>With Annette Lockhart, daughter of the house, the -guest, Miss Frances Fitch, a former school friend, held a -brief consultation just before Black’s arrival.</p> - -<p>“Think he’s the sort to fall for chaste severity, or feminine -frivolity, when it comes to dress, Nanny?”</p> - -<p>Miss Lockhart looked her friend over. “You’re just -the same old plotter, aren’t you, Fanny Fitch?” she observed, -frankly. “Well, it will take all you can do, and -then some, if you expect to interest Mr. Black. But—if -you want my advice—I should say chaste severity was -your line.”</p> - -<p>“There’s where you show your unintelligence,” declared -Miss Fitch. “I shall be as frilly as I can, because -you yourself are a model of smooth and tailored fitness, -and he will want a relief for his eyes. He shall find it in -me. Really, wasn’t he awfully game to preach, with that -shoulder?”</p> - -<p>“He’s a Scot,” said Nan Lockhart. “Of course he -would, if it killed him.”</p> - -<p>The result of this exchange of views was that Miss Fitch -appeared looking like a fascinating young saint in a sheer -white frock. Had she a white heart? Well, anyhow, she -looked the embodiment of ingenuousness, for her masses -of fair hair were too curly to be entirely subdued, no -matter how confined, and her deep blue eyes beneath -the blonde locks might have been those of a beautiful -child.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I say!” ejaculated Tom Lockhart, when she first -came downstairs, the transformation from her dark -smoothness of church garb to this spring-like outburst of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[41]</span> -whiteness hitting him full in his vulnerable young heart—as -usual.</p> - -<p>“Well—like me, Tommy dear?” asked Fanny Fitch, -letting her fingers rest for the fraction of a second on his -dark-blue coat-sleeve.</p> - -<p>“Like you!” breathed Tom. “I say—why did I bring -him home to dinner? Now you’ll just fascinate him—and -forget me!”</p> - -<p>“Forget <i>you</i>? Why, Tom!” And Miss Fitch gave him -an enchanting glance which made his heart turn over. -Then she went on into the big living room, where Robert -McPherson Black, damaged shoulder and arm in a fine black -silk sling, the colour now wholly restored to his interesting -face, rose courteously to be presented to her. Of course -he did not know it, but it was at that moment that he -encountered a quite remarkable combination of the world, -the flesh, and the devil. Up to now he had met each of -these tremendous forces separately, but never before all -together in one slim girl’s form. And yet, right here, it -must be definitely asserted and thoroughly assimilated, -that Fanny Fitch was what is known as an entirely -“nice” girl, and in her heart at that hour was nothing which -could be called an evil intent. The worst that could be -said of her was that she was ruthless in exacting tribute—even -as Cæsar. And when her eye had fallen upon the -minister, with his right arm out of commission but the rest -of him exceedingly assertive of power, she had coveted -him. To her, the rest seemed easy.</p> - -<p>As to Black—he was not “easy.” In his very young manhood -he had loved very much the pretty daughter of his -Southern employer, but she had been as far out of his -reach as the furthermost star in the bright constellations -which nightly met his eye in the skies above him. When she<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[42]</span> -had married he had firmly and definitely put the thought -of woman out of his head, and had formulated a code concerning -the whole sex intended to hold throughout his -ministry. During his entire first pastorate he had been a -model of discretion—as a young minister in a country -community must be, if he would not have his plans for service -tumbling about his ears. Fortunately for him he -was, by temperament and by training, not over susceptible -to any ordinary feminine environment or approach. He -had a hearty and wholesome liking for the comradeship of -men, greatly preferring it to the frequent and unavoidable -association with women necessary in the workings of -church affairs. Even when his eye first rested upon the -really enchanting beauty of Miss Fanny Fitch, if he -could have exchanged her, as his companion at the Lockhart -dinner table, for R. P. Burns, M.D., he would have -done it in the twinkling of an eye. For had not Red -shaved him that morning, and wasn’t another barrier most -probably well down? It was of that he was thinking, and -not, just then, of her.</p> - -<p>But she forced him to think of her—it was an art in -which she was a finished performer. She did it by cutting -up for him that portion of a crown roast of spring lamb -which Mr. Samuel Lockhart sent to him upon his plate. -Up to that moment, throughout the earlier courses, he -had been engaged with the rest in a general discussion of -the subject of the war, quite naturally brought up by the -sermon of the morning. But when it came to regarding -helplessly the food which now appeared before him unmanageable -by either fork or spoon, he found himself -for the first time talking with Miss Fitch alone, while the -conversation of the others went ahead upon a new tack.</p> - -<p>“Oh, but this makes me think of how many poor<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[43]</span> -fellows have to have their food cut up for them, over -there,” she was saying, as her pretty, ringless fingers -expertly prepared the tender meat for his consumption. -“While you were speaking this morning I was wishing, as -I’ve been wishing ever since this terrible war began, that -I could be really helping, on the other side. If it hadn’t -been for my mother, who is quite an invalid, I should have -gone long ago. You made it all so <i>real</i>——”</p> - -<p>A man may tell himself that he doesn’t like flattery, -but if it is cleverly administered—and if, though he is -modest enough, he can’t help knowing himself that he has -done a good thing in a fine way—how can he quite help -being human enough to feel a glow of pleasure? If it’s -not overdone—and Miss Fitch knew much better than -that—much can thus be accomplished in breaking down -a masculine wall of reserve. Black’s wall didn’t break -that Sunday—oh, not at all—but it undeniably did crumble -a little bit along the upper edges.</p> - -<p>After dinner was over, however, as if he were somehow -subtly aware that the wall was undergoing an attack, -Black withdrew with the other men to the further end of -the living room to continue to talk things over. He was -at some pains to seat himself so that he was facing these -men, and had no view down the long room to the other -end, where the women were gathered.</p> - -<p>Miss Fitch, looking his way from a corner of a great -divan, sent a smile and a wave toward Tom, who, torn -between allegiance to Fanny and his new and absorbing -devotion to Black, had for the time being followed the -men. Then she said negligently to Nan Lockhart:</p> - -<p>“Your minister certainly has a stunning profile. Look -at it there against that dark-blue curtain.”</p> - -<p>Nan looked for an instant, then back at her guest.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[44]</span> -“Oh, Fanny!” she murmured, rebukingly, “don’t you -ever get tired of that game?”</p> - -<p>“What game, my dear?”</p> - -<p>“Oh—playing for every last one of them!” answered -Annette Lockhart, with some impatience. She was a -dark-eyed young woman with what might be called a -strong face, by no means unattractive in its clean-cut -lines. She had a personality all her own; she had been a -leader always; people liked Nan Lockhart, and believed -in her thoroughly. Her friendship for Fanny Fitch was a -matter of old college ties—Fanny was nobody’s fool, and -she was clever enough to keep a certain hold upon Nan -through the exercise of a rather remarkable dramatic -talent. Nan had written plays, and Fanny had acted -them; and now that college days were over they had -plans for the future which meant a continued partnership -in the specialty of each.</p> - -<p>“Interested in him yourself, I judge,” Miss Fitch replied -teasingly. “Don’t worry! The chances are all with -you. He’s horribly sober minded—he’ll fall for your sort -sooner than for mine.”</p> - -<p>But a certain gleam in her eyes said something else—that -she was quite satisfied with the beginning she had -made. Another man might have taken a seat where he -could look at her; that Black deliberately looked the -other way this astute young person considered proof -positive that he found her unexpectedly distracting to -his thoughts.</p> - -<p>When, at the end of an hour, Black turned around, ready -to take his farewell, Miss Fitch was absent from the room. -He glanced about for her, found her not, told himself that -he was glad, and went out. As the door of the living -room closed behind him, she came down the stairs, a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[45]</span> -white hat on her head, a white parasol in her hand. -They passed out of the house door together. At the street -Miss Fitch turned in the direction of the manse, two -blocks away. Black paused and removed his hat—with -his left hand he did it rather awkwardly.</p> - -<p>“It’s been very pleasant to meet you,” he said. “Is -your stay to be long?”</p> - -<p>“Several weeks, I believe. Are you really going that -way, Mr. Black—or don’t you venture to walk down the -street with any members of your congregation except -men?”</p> - -<p>He smiled. “I am really going this way, Miss Fitch—thank -you! Would you care to know where?”</p> - -<p>“To Doctor Burns—with your arm, I suppose. Is it -very painful?”</p> - -<p>“It’s doing very well. Isn’t this a magnificent day? I -hope you’ll have a pleasant walk.”</p> - -<p>“I can hardly help it, thank you—I’m so fond of walking—which -Nan Lockhart isn’t—hard luck for me! -Good-bye—and I shall not soon forget what I heard this -morning.”</p> - -<p>Her parting smile was one to remember—not a bit of -pique that he hadn’t responded to her obvious invitation—no -coquetry in it either, just charming friendliness, exceedingly -disarming. As he turned away, striding off in -the opposite direction from that which he naturally would -have taken, he was frowning a little and saying to himself -that it was going to be rather more difficult to keep the -old guard up in a place like this than it had been in his -country parish. His good Scottish conscience told him -that though in deciding on the instant to make Doctor -Burns a visit he had committed himself to something he -didn’t want to do at all—go and bother the difficult doctor<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[46]</span> -with his shoulder when it wasn’t necessary—he must do -it now just the same, to square the thing. Heavens and -earth—why shouldn’t he walk down the street with a -beautiful young woman in white if she happened to be -going his way, instead of putting himself out to go where -he hated to, just to avoid her? Not that he cared to walk -with her—he didn’t—he preferred not to. And the doctor -would think him a weakling, after all, if he came to him -complaining, as was the truth, that his shoulder was aching -abominably, and his head to match, and that his pulse -seemed to be jumping along unpleasantly. Well——</p> - -<p>Just then R. P. Burns went by in his car at a terrific and -wholly inexcusable speed, evidently rushing out of town. -Black, recognizing him, breathed a sigh of relief. But he -went around seven blocks to get back to the Manse without -a chance of meeting anybody in white. At a very distant -sight of anybody clothed all in white he turned up the -first street, and this naturally lengthened his trip. So -that when he was finally within the Manse’s sheltering -walls he was very glad to give up bluffing for the day, and -to stretch himself upon the leather couch in the study where -that morning he had doggedly refused an anæsthetic. -He rather wished he had one now! Confound it—he felt -that he had been a fool more than once that day. Why -should ministers have to act differently from other men, -in any situation whatever? He made up his mind that -the next time he climbed out on a slippery roof on a Sunday -morning—well, he would do it if he wanted to! But the -next time he turned up a side street to avoid anybody—or -changed his direction because anybody was going the -same way——</p> - -<p>When he woke an hour later it was because his shoulder -really was extremely sore and painful. But he wouldn’t<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[47]</span> -have called Burns if he had known that that skillful surgeon -could take away every last twinge. Anyhow—Burns -had shaved him that morning! There was that that -was good to remember about the day. Sometime—he -would come closer to the red-headed doctor than that!</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[48]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER IV<br /> - - -<small>NOBODY TO SAY A PRAYER</small></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">MRS. HODDER, housekeeper at the manse, breathed -a heavy sigh as she poured the minister’s breakfast -coffee. He looked up, as she had known he would; his -ear seemed to be sensitive to sighs.</p> - -<p>“It’s queer, how things go for some people,” she said. -“I can’t get over feeling that a body should have Christian -burial, no matter what the circumstances is.”</p> - -<p>“Tell me about it,” said Black promptly. Mrs. Hodder -was not a talker—he did not think she was a gossip. She -had been selected for him by his good friend Mrs. Lockhart, -who had had in mind the necessity of finding the minister -a housekeeper built on these desirable lines. Mrs. Hodder -came as near such lines as seemed humanly possible, -though she had her faults. So had the minister, as he was -accustomed to remind himself, whenever he discovered -a new one in his housekeeper.</p> - -<p>So Mrs. Hodder told him, and as he listened a peculiar -frown appeared between his eyebrows. The thing she -told him was of the sort to touch him to the quick. The -moment he had finished his breakfast—which he did in a -hurry—he went into the study, closed the door, and called -up a certain undertaker, whom—as is the case with the -men of Black’s profession—he had come to know almost -before he knew the leading men of his church.</p> - -<p>“Oh, that’s nothing that need interest you, Mr. Black,”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[49]</span> -replied the man of gloomy affairs, in the cheerful tone he -employed out of working hours. “It’s out in a community -where there isn’t any church—folks are dead against the -church, at that. Nobody expects any service—there won’t -be but a handful there, anyhow. There’s only the girl’s -grandmother for relatives—and the thing’s best kept -quiet. See?”</p> - -<p>“I see. What time are you to leave the house?”</p> - -<p>“Ten o’clock. But you——”</p> - -<p>“There wouldn’t be any actual objection to my coming, -would there, Mr. Munson?”</p> - -<p>“Why—I suppose not. They simply don’t expect it—not -used to it. And in this case—if you understand——”</p> - -<p>“I do understand—and I very much want to come. -The trolley runs within two miles, I believe.”</p> - -<p>“Why—yes. But I can send for you, if you insist—only—you -know they’re poor as poverty——”</p> - -<p>“I want the walk, and I’ll catch the trolley—thank you. -If I should be a bit late——”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I’ll hold the thing for you—and—well, it’s certainly -very good of you, Mr. Black. I admit I like to see -such things done right myself.”</p> - -<p>The conversation ended here, and Black ran for his -trolley, with only time to snatch a small, well-worn black -leather handbook from his desk. He had no time for a -change of clothes—which he wouldn’t have made in any -case, though he was not accustomed to dress in clerical -style upon the street, except in so far as a dark plainness -of attire might suggest his profession rather than emphasize -it.</p> - -<p>He had two minutes to spare on a street corner, waiting -for his car. On that corner was a florist’s shop. Catching -sight of a window full of splendid roses he rushed in, gave<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[50]</span> -an order which made the girl in charge work fast, and -managed to speed up the whole transaction so successfully -that when he swung on to the moving step he had a slim -box under his arm. Only a dozen pink rosebuds—Black -had never bought florist’s roses in armfuls—but somehow -he had felt he must take them. How account for this -impulse—since the Scotch are not notably impulsive? -But—right here it will have to be confessed that Black -had in his veins decidedly more than a trace of Irish blood. -And now it’s out—and his future history may be better -understood for the admission.</p> - -<p>Some time after Black had caught his trolley, R. P. -Burns, M.D., brought his car to a hurried standstill in -front of Jane Ray’s shop in the side street, and all but -ran inside. The shop was empty at the moment, and -Jane came forward at his call. He put a quick question:</p> - -<p>“Have you heard anything of Sadie Dunstan lately?”</p> - -<p>“Nothing—for a long time. I can’t even find out where -she has gone.”</p> - -<p>“I can tell you—but it will startle you. There’s no -time to break it gently, or I would. She got into trouble, -and—came home to—die.”</p> - -<p>Jane was looking him straight in the face as he spoke, -and he saw the news shock her, as he had known it would. -Sadie Dunstan was a little, fair-haired girl who had been -Jane’s helper in the shop for a year, and in whom Jane had -taken great interest. Then she had gone away—West -somewhere—had written once or twice—had failed to -write—Jane had unwillingly lost track of her. And now—here -was Burns and his news.</p> - -<p>“Where is she? Is she—still living?” Jane’s usually -steady voice was unsteady.</p> - -<p>“No. She’s to be buried—within the hour. I just<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[51]</span> -found it out—and came for you. I thought you might -like to go.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll be ready in three minutes. I’ll lock the shop——”</p> - -<p>Thus it was that two more people were shortly on their -way to the place where little Sadie Dunstan, unhonoured -and unmourned—except for one—lay waiting for the last -offices earth could give her. But she was to have greater -dignity shown her than she could have hoped.</p> - -<p>“I did try to make a real woman of her,” said Jane, in a -smothered voice, when Red had told her what he knew -of the pitiful story. Passing the small house that morning -he had seen the sign upon the door, and remembering -Jane Ray’s lost protégée, had stopped to inquire. A -neighbour had given him the tragic little history; the old -grandmother, deaf and half blind in her chimney corner, -had added a harsh comment or two; and only a young girl -who said she was Sadie’s sister and had but an hour before -suddenly appeared from the unknown, had shown that -she cared what had happened to Sadie.</p> - -<p>“You did a lot for her,” asserted Burns. “I think the -girl meant to be straight. This was one of those under-promise-of-marriage -affairs which get the weak ones now -and then. Poor little girl—she wouldn’t have wanted you -to know—or me. She didn’t give me a chance—though -there probably wasn’t one, anyway, by the time she got -back here. I’ve had her under my care many a time in -her girlhood, you know—she was a frail little thing, but -mighty appealing. This younger sister is a good deal -like her, as she looked when you took her first.”</p> - -<p>“I knew she had a sister, but thought she was far away -somewhere.”</p> - -<p>“In an orphanage till this last year. She’s only sixteen—a -flower of a girl—and crying her heart out for Sadie.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[52]</span> -The grandmother’s a brute—the child can’t stay with -her.”</p> - -<p>“She’ll not have to. I can make it up to Sadie—and I -will.”</p> - -<p>Burns looked at the face in profile beside him. Jane -Ray had a profile which might have been characterized -as sturdily sweet; the lines were extremely attractive. -Jane’s quiet dress, the simple hat upon her head, were the -last word in expensive, well-conceived fashion, but Burns -did not know this. He only knew that Miss Ray always -looked precisely as she ought to look—very nice, and a -little distinguished, so that one noticed her approvingly, -and people who did not know her usually wondered who -she was. He was thinking as he glanced at her now that -if she meant to make it up to Sadie by taking her young -sister under her care, that sister would have an even better -chance than Sadie had had—and lost.</p> - -<p>“I wish we had brought some flowers,” Jane said suddenly, -as the car flew past the last houses of the main -highway and began to climb the hills into the country -backroads. “This is such a benighted little spot we’re -going to—they may not have any at all.”</p> - -<p>“Doubt it. But there wasn’t time to hunt up flowers -if we wanted to get there. Munson’s in all kinds of a -hurry to get this thing over. It’s his busy day—as usual, -when it happens to be a poor case. We’ll do well if we -make it now. Not much use in coming—there’ll be no -service. But we can at least see the box go down!”</p> - -<p>He spoke grimly. But Jane had caught sight of a rose-bush -in a dooryard crowded with white roses, and cried -out imperiously:</p> - -<p>“Stop one minute, please, Doctor Burns. I’ll buy those -roses or steal them. Please!”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[53]</span>The brakes ground, and Jane was out before the car -stopped, pulling out a plump little purse as she ran. A -countrywoman hurrying to her door to protest angrily at -the spectacle of a girl filling her arms with white roses -was met with the call: “I’m going to give you a dollar -for them—please don’t stop me. It’s for a funeral, and -we’re late now!”</p> - -<p>“Highway robbery,” commented Burns, as Jane sprang -in beside him. “But she’d have sold you her soul for a -dollar—and dear at that.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, don’t talk about souls, up here,” Jane protested. -“If your fine new man at the Stone Church wanted a job -worth while he’d leave the smug people in the high-priced -pews and come up here to look after barbarians who’ll -bury a poor girl without a prayer. Don’t I know, without -your telling me, that there’ll be no prayer?—unless you -make one?” She looked at him with sudden challenge. -“I dare you to!” she said, under her breath.</p> - -<p>Burns’ hazel glance, with a kindling fire in it, met hers. -“I take the dare,” he answered, without hesitation. “I -know the Lord’s Prayer—and the Twenty Third Psalm. -I’m not afraid to say them—for Sadie Dunstan.”</p> - -<p>The cynicism in Jane’s beautifully cut lips melted unexpectedly -into a quiver, and she was silent after that, -till the car dashed up the last steep hill. They came out -at the top almost in the dooryard of a small, weather-beaten -cottage in front of which stood an undertaker’s -wagon, two men, and half a dozen women. These people -were just about to go into the house, but stood back to let -Doctor Burns—whom all of them knew—and Miss Ray—whom -one of them knew—go in ahead.</p> - -<p>As she went up the steps Jane braced herself for what -she must see. Little fair-haired Sadie—come to this so<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[54]</span> -early—so tragically—and nobody to care—nobody to -say a prayer—except a red-headed doctor, whose business -it was not. At least—she had an armful of white roses. -She wanted to take one look at Sadie—and then lay the -roses so that they would cover her from the sight of the -hard eyes all about her. She would do that—just that. -Why not? What better could she do? She drew her -breath deep, and set her lips, and walked into the poor -little room....</p> - -<p>The thing she saw first was a glowing handful of wonderful -pink rosebuds upon the top of the cheap black box—one -could not dignify it by any other word than Burns -had used—which held the chief position in the room. -And then, at the foot of the box, she saw a tall figure with -an open book in his hand come to do Sadie Dunstan -honour. Jane Ray caught back the sob of relief which -had all but leaped to her lips. She had not known, until -that moment, how much she had wanted that prayer—she, -who did not pray—or thought she did not.</p> - -<p>Mr. Munson, in a hurry, watch in hand, allowed the few -neighbours who had come barely time to crowd into the -small room before he signalled the minister to go ahead -and get it over. He was not an unfeeling man, but he had -two more services on for the day—costly affairs—and -both his assistants were ill, worse luck!, and he had had -to look after this country backwoods burial himself. He -had noted with some surprise the appearance of Doctor -Burns and Miss Ray, though there was no use in ever -being surprised at anything the erratic doctor might do. -As for Miss Ray—he admired her very much, both for -her charming personality and her business ability, which -compelled everybody’s respect. He wondered what on -earth brought her here—what brought all three of them<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[55]</span> -here, slowing things up when the body might have been -committed to the dust with the throwing of a few clods -by his own competent fingers—and everybody in this -heathen community better satisfied than the Stone Church -man was likely to make them with his ritual. Thus -thought Mr. Munson in his own heart, and all but showed -it in his face.</p> - -<p>But Black, though he held his book in his hand, gave -them no ritual—not here in the house. He had meant -to read the usual service, abbreviating and modifying it -as he must. But somehow, as he had noted one face after -the other—the impassive faces of the few men and women, -the surlily stoic one of the old grandmother, the tear-wet -one of the wretched young sister in her shabby short -frock—and then had glanced just once at the set jaw of -R. P. Burns and the desperate pity in the dark eyes of -Jane Ray, he had felt impelled to change his plan.</p> - -<p>Red, listening, now heard Black pray, as a man prays -whose heart is very full, but whose mind and lips can do -his bidding under stress. It was a very simple prayer—it -could not be otherwise because Black was praying with -just one desire in his heart, to reach and be understood -by the one real mourner there before him. It is quite -possible that he remembered less the One to whom he -spoke than this little one by whom he wanted to be heard. -It was for the little sobbing sister that he formulated each -direct, heart-touching phrase, that she might know that -after all there was Someone—a very great and pitiful -Someone—who knew and cared because she had lost all -she had in a hard and unpitiful world. And speaking -thus, for her alone, Black quite forgot that Red was listening—and -Red, somehow, knew that he forgot.</p> - -<p>Jane Ray listened, too—it was not possible to do anything<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[56]</span> -else. Jane had never heard any one pray like that; -she had not known it was ever done. It was at that -moment that she first knew that the man who was speaking -was a real man; such words could have been so spoken -by no man who was not real, no matter how clever an actor -he might be. Something in Jane’s heart which had been -hard toward any man of Black’s profession—because -she had known one or two whom she could not respect, -and had trusted none of them on that account—softened -a little while Black prayed. At least—this man was real. -And she was glad—oh, glad—that he was saying words -like these over the fair, still head of Sadie Dunstan, and -that the little sister, who looked so like her that the sight -of her shook Jane’s heart, could hear.</p> - -<p>Jane still held her roses when, after a while, the whole -small group stood in the barren, ill-kept burial place which -was all this poor community had in which to bestow its -dead. It was only across the road and over the hill by a -few rods, and when Mr. Munson had been about to send -Sadie in his wagon, Black had whispered a word in his ear, -and then had taken his place at one side of the black box -with its glowing roses on the top. Red, discerning his -intention, had taken two strides to the other side, displacing -a shambling figure of a man who was slowly approaching -for this duty. Mr. Munson, now seeing a revealing -light, waved the unwilling bearer aside, and himself -took the other end of the box. Together the three, looking -like very fine gentlemen all—in contrast to those who followed—bore -Sadie in decorum to her last resting place.</p> - -<p>Now came the ritual indeed—every word of it—brief -and beautiful, with its great phrases. When Mr. Munson, -clods in hand, cast them at the moment—“<i>ashes to ashes, -dust to dust</i>,”—Jane flung her white roses so swiftly down<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[57]</span> -after them that the little sister never saw the dark earth -fall. Then she turned and took the trembling young -figure in her own warm arms—and looking up, over Sue’s -head, Jane’s eyes, dark with tears, met full the understanding, -joyfully approving eyes of Robert Black....</p> - -<p>Striding down the hill, presently, having refused the -offer of Mr. Munson to take him back in his own small -car, Black was passed by Red and Jane, with a shabby -little figure between them. At the foot of the hill the -car stopped, and waited for Black to catch up. He came -to its side, hat in hand, his eyes friendlily on Sue Dunstan, -who looked up at him shyly through red lids.</p> - -<p>“Will you ride on the running board—at least till we -get to the trolley?” offered Red. “I thought you had -gone with Munson. What’s the matter? Was he in too -much of a hurry to look after the minister?”</p> - -<p>“No, he asked me. But I want to walk, thank you. -I’m pretty fond of the country, and don’t often get so far -out.”</p> - -<p>“It was very good of you to come,” said Jane Ray, -gravely. “It—made all the difference. Mr. Munson -told us he didn’t ask you—you offered. But it’s impossible -not to wonder how you knew.”</p> - -<p>“My housekeeper came from somewhere near this -region—she told me. It was very easy to come—easier -than to stay away, after knowing. What a day this is—and -what a view! Don’t let me keep you—good-bye.” -And he turned away even before Red, always in a hurry -though he was, would have suggestively speeded his throbbing -motor—a device by which he was accustomed to -make a get-away from a passer-by who had held him up. -As he went on Red put out an arm and waved a parting -salute to the man behind him, at which Black, seeing the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[58]</span> -friendly signal, smiled at the landscape in general, addressing -it thus:</p> - -<p>“You wouldn’t do that, Red-Head, if you weren’t beginning -to like me just a bit—now would you?”</p> - -<p>The car was barely out of sight when he heard a shriek -behind him, and turning, found himself pursued by one -of the women who had been in the cottage. She was -waving a parcel at him—a small parcel done up in a ragged -piece of newspaper, as he saw when he had returned to -meet her. She explained that it contained some few belongings -of Sue Dunstan which the girl had forgotten.</p> - -<p>“They ain’t much, but she might want ’em. She won’t -be comin’ back, I guess—not if that Miss Ray keeps her -that kept Sade before. She better keep a lookout on -Sue—she’s the same blood, an’ it ain’t no good.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you—I’ll take this to her,” Black agreed. His -hat was off, as if she had been a lady, this unkempt woman -who regarded him curiously. He was saying to himself -that here was a place to which he must come again, it -was so near—and yet so very, very far.</p> - -<p>She would have stayed him to gossip about both Sadie -and Sue, but he would have none of that, turned the talk -his own way, and presently got away as adroitly as ever -Red had done, leaving her looking after him with an expression -of mingled wonder and admiration. Somehow -he had given her the impression of his friendliness, and -his democracy—and yet of the difference between herself -and him. There was, once, a Man, beside a wayside well, -who had given that same impression.</p> - -<p>Until late evening he was busy; calls—a manse wedding—a -committee meeting—an hour’s study—so the rest -of the June day went. But just as dusk was falling he -tucked the newspaper parcel under his arm and went down<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[59]</span> -Jane Ray’s side street. He did not know at all if she -could be found at this hour, but he had an idea that Jane -lived above her shop, and that if she were at home a bell -which he had seen beside the door would bring her.</p> - -<p>The shop was softly lighted with many candles, -though no one seemed to be inside. When he tried the -door, however, it was locked, and he rang the bell. A -minute later he saw Jane coming through the shop from -the back, and the suggestion of the hostess moving -through attractive apartments was more vivid than ever. -The door opened. Black held out his parcel.</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry to bother you at this hour, Miss Ray, but -I believe it’s something the little girl left behind, and I -thought she might want it to-night. I couldn’t get here -earlier.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, thank you! Won’t you come in a minute and see -Sue? I’d like you to see how different—and how dear—she -looks. She’s just back in the garden.” Jane’s expression -was eager—not at all businesslike. She might -have been a young mother offering to show her child.</p> - -<p>“Garden?” questioned Black, following Jane through -the candle-lighted shop.</p> - -<p>“Actually a garden. You wouldn’t think it, would you? -But there is one—a very tiny one—and it’s the joy of my -life.”</p> - -<p>At the back of the shop she opened a door into one of -the most inviting little rooms Black ever had seen—or -dreamed of. Not crowded with antiques or curios—just -a simple home room, furnished and hung with the most -exquisite taste—a very jewel of a room, and lighted with -a low lamp which threw into relief the dark polished surface -of a table upon which stood a long row of finely bound -books. But he was led quickly through this—though he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[60]</span> -wanted to linger and look about him—through an outer -door of glass which opened directly upon the garden. -<i>Well!</i></p> - -<p>“It’s not very much,” said Jane, “as gardens go—but -I’m terribly proud of it, just the same.”</p> - -<p>“It’s wonderful!” Black exclaimed. “What a spot—among -all these old brick buildings! Why—it looks like -an English garden; every bit of space used—and all those -trim walks—and the seat under the trees. Great!” And -his eye dwelt delightedly on the box borders filled with -flowers, on the tall rows of blue delphiniums and hollyhocks -against the walls, on the one great elm tree at the -back of it all beneath which stood a rustic seat.</p> - -<p>“But here’s something better yet,” said Jane’s voice -quietly, beside him, and she brought him out upon the -narrow, vine-hung porch which ran all across the back of -the house. Here, on a footstool beside a big chair, sat -Sue Dunstan, a little figure all in white, with hair in shining -fair order as if it had just been washed and brushed, and -shy eyes no longer red with tears. And Sue looked—yes, -she looked as if she had forgotten everything in the world—except -to love Jane Ray!</p> - -<p>And then—she recognized the man who had stood at her -sister’s feet that morning and said strange words which had -somehow comforted her. A flood of colour rushed into her -cheeks—she crouched upon the footstool, not daring to -look up again. Black sat down in the chair beside her—he -knew Jane had been sitting there before him. He -said Miss Ray had let him come out for just a minute to -see the garden, and wasn’t it a beautiful garden? He had -known a garden something like that once, he said, and -never another since, and he wondered if he could make one -like it behind his house. Sue wasn’t sure—she shook her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[61]</span> -head—she seemed to think no one but Miss Ray could -make such a garden.</p> - -<p>Black didn’t stay long—he knew he wasn’t expected -to. But he had made friends with Sue before he -went—poor child, who had no friends. And he almost -thought he had made friends with Jane Ray, too. Somehow -he found himself wanting to do that—he didn’t quite -know why. Perhaps it was because she was very evidently -a friend of Red. Yes—he thought that must be -the reason why she interested him so much.</p> - -<p>As they came back through the shop Jane paused to -snuff a flaming candle with an old pair of brass snuffers—her -face was full of colour in the rosy light—and remarked, -“I’m going to have an exhibition of war posters some -evening before long, Mr. Black—for the benefit of French -and Belgian orphans. Would you care to speak of it -among your friends? I think you saw some of the first -posters I received. I have more and very wonderful ones -now—many of them quite rare already. I want to attract -the people with plenty of money—and some interest in -things over there.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll be delighted to mention it in church next Sunday,” -Black offered promptly.</p> - -<p>“Oh—really?”</p> - -<p>“Why not?”</p> - -<p>“<i>I</i> don’t know why not. I supposed you would. Your -church people—they don’t like——”</p> - -<p>“Don’t they?—I’ll be all the more delighted to mention -the war posters, then. Thank you for giving me the -chance. And for showing me the garden—and Sue. -She’s a lucky girl—and so are you, aren’t you?—to have -such a chance. You’ll make the most of it. Miss Ray, -I think Sue never heard of—Somebody she ought to know.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[62]</span> -She needs Him—even more than she needs you. Teach -her the story of Him—will you? You don’t mind my -saying it? You couldn’t mind—you care for her! Good-night!”</p> - -<p>Jane Ray looked after the tall figure, striding swiftly -away up the side street through the June twilight.</p> - -<p>“You certainly aren’t afraid,” she thought, “to say exactly -what you think. I like you for that, anyhow.”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[63]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER V<br /> - - -<small>PLAIN AS A PIKESTAFF</small></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap2">ROBERT BLACK was dressing for a dinner—a men’s -dinner, to which Samuel Lockhart had invited him, -and Tom Lockhart had commanded him.</p> - -<p>“You see, I’ve got to be there,” Tom had explained. -“And Dad always asks a lot of ponderous old personages -who bore you to death—or else make you red with rage -at some of their fossil ideas. The only thing that saves -the case for me to-night is that you’re coming. I’ve -stipulated that I sit near you—see? Mother wouldn’t -hear of my being next you—that honour is reserved for one -of your trustees.”</p> - -<p>“I assure you I’m immensely flattered,” Black had replied, -with a real sense of warmth about the heart. He -had grown steadily fonder of this interesting boy who was -all but a man. “But isn’t your good friend Doctor Burns -to be there? Surely he’d save anybody from boredom.”</p> - -<p>“There!” Tom’s tone was mocking. “Yes, he’ll -be there—after he comes—and before he goes. He’ll -come in just in time for the salad—no evening dress, just -good old homespun, because he’s had no time to change. -Then he’ll be called out before the coffee and the smokes—but -he’ll ask for a cup, just the same, and swallow it -standing. Then he’ll go out—and all the lights’ll go out -for me with him—except, that you’re there to keep the -brain fires burning.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[64]</span>Black had laughed at this dismal picture and had -told the youngster that he would endeavour to save his -life in the crisis. But now, as he dressed, he was not -looking forward to the event. To tell the truth, although -he had been present at many college and fraternity banquets, -this was actually his first experience at a formal -dinner in a private home. He was even experiencing a -few doubts as to how to dress.</p> - -<p>Good judgment, however, assured him that the one -safe decision for a clerical diner-out was clerical dress. -Having satisfied himself that every hair was in place, but -having found one of his accessories missing, he went in -search of Mrs. Hodder.</p> - -<p>“I don’t seem to find a handkerchief in my drawer, Mrs. -Hodder,” he announced, standing in the doorway of the -kitchen and glancing suggestively toward a basketful of -unironed clothes below the table at which his housekeeper -sat.</p> - -<p>“You don’t, Mr. Black?” Mrs. Hodder exclaimed. -“Mercy me—I’ll iron you one in a jiffy. If I may make -so bold as to say so, sir, it’s not my fault. You use handkerchiefs -rather lavish for one who—who owns so few.”</p> - -<p>“Haven’t I enough? I’ll get some more at once. Do -I—do you mind telling me if I look as if I were going out -to dinner?”</p> - -<p>The housekeeper turned and surveyed him. Approval -lighted her previously sombre eye. “You look as if you -were just going to get married,” she observed.</p> - -<p>An explosion of unclerical-like laughter answered her. -“But I’m dressed no differently from the way I am on -Sundays,” he reminded her.</p> - -<p>“You have your gown on in the pulpit. And the minute -you come home you’re out of that long coat and into the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[65]</span> -short one. I’ve never seen you stay looking the way you -do now five minutes, Mr. Black.”</p> - -<p>“That must be why I’m so unhappy now. I’ve got to -stay in this coat for an entire evening. Pity me, Mrs. -Hodder! And don’t wait up, please. I may be rather -late.”</p> - -<p>He marched away, followed by the adoring gaze of his -housekeeper. Mrs. Hodder’s austerity of countenance -belied her softness of heart. If the minister had guessed -how like a mother she felt toward him he might have been -both touched and alarmed.</p> - -<p>Arrived at the Lockharts’, he found himself welcomed -first by Tom, who met him, as if accidentally, at the very -door.</p> - -<p>“The heavy-weights are all here,” announced the boy -under his breath, his arm linked in Black’s, as he led his -friend upstairs. “Bald—half of ’em are bald! And the -rest look as solemn as if this were a funeral instead of a -dinner. Maybe they feel that way. I’m sure I do. I -say—don’t you wish we could jump into my car and burn -it down the road about fifty miles into the moonlight? -There’s a gorgeous moon to-night.”</p> - -<p>“Ask me after the dinner is over, and I’ll go.”</p> - -<p>“What? Will you? You won’t—no such luck!”</p> - -<p>“Try me and see.”</p> - -<p>“You bet I will. See here—you promise? It’ll be -late, I warn you. Father’s dinners drag on till kingdom -come.”</p> - -<p>“Any time before morning.” And Black looked into -the laughing, incredulous eyes of the youth before him.</p> - -<p>“You’re no minister,” Tom chuckled. “You’re a dead -game sport.” Then he drew back suddenly at the flash -in the black eyes.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[66]</span>“Don’t make a mistake about that,” suggested Black, -quietly.</p> - -<p>“Oh—I guess you are a minister, all right,” admitted -Tom, respectfully. “And I guess perhaps I want you to -be.”</p> - -<p>“I’m very sure you do.” Black smiled again. “Did -you think I couldn’t take a late spin in your car without -compromising my profession?”</p> - -<p>“I just thought—for a minute,” whispered the boy, -“I saw a bit of a reckless devil look out of your eyes. I -thought—you wanted to get away, like me, from this -heavy dinner business—and go to—just any old place!”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps I do. But I don’t intend to think about -moonlight drives till I’ve done my part here. Come on, -Tom—let’s be ‘dead game sports’ and help make things go. -Afterward—we’ll take the trail with good consciences.”</p> - -<p>“Anything to please you. I was going to bolt whenever -R. P. Burns got called out; but I’ll wait for you.”</p> - -<p>“You seem to be sure he’ll be called out. Perhaps he -won’t, for once.”</p> - -<p>“Not a chance. Wait and see,” prophesied Tom; and -together they descended the stairs.</p> - -<p>Tom stood off at one side, after that, with the apparent -deference of youth. His eyes were sharp with interest -in Black, whose presence relieved for him the tedium of -the affair. He saw the minister shaking hands, making -acquaintances, joining groups, with a certain straightforwardness -of manner which pleased the critical youth immensely. -Like most young men, he despised what is easily -recognized in any company as that peculiar clerical atmosphere -which surrounds so many men of Black’s profession. -He didn’t want a minister to bow a little lower, -hold the proffered hand a little longer, speak in a little<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[67]</span> -more unctuous tone than other men. He wanted his -minister to hold his head high, to make no attempts to -ingratiate himself into his companions’ good graces by -saying things too patently calculated to please them; he -didn’t want him to agree with everybody—he wanted -him to differ with them healthily often. As he watched -Black’s way of looking a new acquaintance straight in -the eye, as if to discover what manner of man he was, and -then of letting the other man take the lead in conversation -instead of instantly and skillfully assuming the -lead, as if he considered himself a born dictator of the -thoughts and words of others—well—Tom said to himself -once more that he was jolly glad Robert McPherson Black -had come to this parish. Since it always devolved upon -the Lockhart family to show first friendliness to new incumbents -of that parish, it mattered much to Tom that -he could heartily like this man. He was even beginning -to think of him as his friend—his special friend. And as, -from time to time, his eyes met Black’s across the room, -he had a warm consciousness that Black had not forgotten -but was looking forward to the hour that should release -them both for that fast drive down the empty, moonlit -road. Reward enough for a dull evening, that would be, -to take the black-eyed Scotsman for such a whirl across -country as he probably had never known!</p> - -<p>But first—the dinner! And Red hadn’t come—of -course he hadn’t—when the party moved out to the dining-room -and took their places at the big table with its impressive -centrepiece of lights and flowers, its rather -gorgeous layout of silver and glass, and its waiting attendants. -Red hadn’t arrived when the soup and fish had -come and gone; when the roast fowl was served; it wasn’t -till Tom had begun to give him up that the big doctor<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[68]</span> -suddenly put his red head in at the door and stood there -looking silently in upon the company. Tom sprang up -joyfully, and rushed across the room. Red came forward, -shook hands with his host, and took his place—opposite -Black, as it happened.</p> - -<p>And instantly—to two people at least—the room was -another place. It’s Stevenson, isn’t it?—who mentions -that phenomenon we have all so many times observed—that -the entrance of some certain person into a room makes -it seem “as if another candle had been lighted!” Wonderful -phrase that—and blessed people of whom it can -be said! Of such people, certainly R. P. Burns, M.D., -was a remarkable type. Nobody like him for turning on -not only one but fifty candlepower.</p> - -<p>Yet all he did was to sit down—in his customary gray -suit, quite as Tom had said he would, having had no time -to change—grin round the table, and say, “Going to feed -me up from the beginning, Lockhart? Oh, never mind. -A good plateful of whatever fowl you’ve had, and a cup of -coffee will suit me down to the ground. Coffee not served -yet, Parker?” He turned to the manservant at his elbow. -“But you see”—with an appealing glance at his host—“I’ve -had no lunch to-day—and it’s nearly ten. I’m just -about ready for that coffee.” Then he surveyed again -the hitherto serious gentlemen about him, who were now -looking suddenly genial, and remarked, “You fellows don’t -know what it is to be hungry. No one here but me has -done an honest day’s work.”</p> - -<p>“Do you mind telling us what time yours began, Doctor -Burns?” asked Black, across the table.</p> - -<p>The hazel eyes encountered the black ones for the second -time. Black had been the first man Red looked at as he sat -down—his greeting grin had therefore started with Black.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[69]</span>“Twelve-five <span class="allsmcap">A. M.</span> No thanks to me. I gave the -fellow blue blazes for calling me, but he was one of those -persistent chaps, and rang me up every ten minutes till -I gave in and went.... Excuse the shop.... -What were you all talking about? Keep it up, please, -while I employ myself.”</p> - -<p>Somebody told him they had been talking about the -Great War in Europe—and received a quick, rather -cynical glance from the hazel eyes. Somebody else observed -that it was to be hoped we’d keep our heads and -not get into it—and had a fiery glance shot at him, decidedly -disdainful. Then a third man said sadly that he -had a son who was giving him trouble, wanting to go and -enlist with the Canadians, and he wished he knew how -to talk sense into the boy.</p> - -<p>“Better thank the Lord you’ve bred such a lad!” -ejaculated Red, between two gulps of coffee.</p> - -<p>“Of course I am proud of his spirit,” admitted the unhappy -father. “But there’s no possible reason why he -should do such a wild thing. His mother is nearly out of -her mind with fear that if we keep on opposing him he’ll -run away.”</p> - -<p>“If he does, you’ll wish you had sent him willingly, won’t -you?” suggested Black. “Why not let him go?”</p> - -<p>William Jennings, treasurer of Black’s church, turned -on his minister an astonished eye. “You don’t mean to -say <i>you</i> say that?”</p> - -<p>“Why not? I have three young nephews over there, -in the Scottish ranks. They need all the help they can -have from us. If we don’t get in as a country pretty soon -now—more than your boy will run away. Look at the -fellows who’ve already gone from our colleges, and more -going all the time.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[70]</span>“Mr. Black,”—a solemn voice spoke from down the -table—“I’ve been given to understand you are in sympathy -with war. I can hardly believe it.”</p> - -<p>Black looked at the speaker, and his eyes sparkled with -a sudden fire. “That’s rather a strange way of putting -it,” he said. “Perhaps you might rather say I am in -sympathy with those who have had war thrust upon them. -What else is there to do but to make war back—to end -it?”</p> - -<p>“There are other ways—there must be. A great Christian -nation must use those ways—not throw itself blindly -into the horrible carnage. Our part is to teach the world -the lesson of peace as Christ did.”</p> - -<p>“How did He teach it?” The question came back, like -a shot.</p> - -<p>The man who had spoken delayed a little, finding it -difficult to formulate his answer. “Why, by His life, His -example, His precepts—” he said. “He was the Man -of Peace—He told us to turn the other cheek——”</p> - -<p>Red’s keen eyes were on Black now. He had opened -his own lips, in his own impulsive way—and had closed -them as quickly. “What’s in you?” his eyes said to -Black. “Have you got it in you to down this fool? Or -must I?” And he forgot how hungry he was.</p> - -<p>When Black spoke, every other eye was on him as well. -He spoke quietly enough, yet his words rang with conviction. -“My Christ,” he said, “if He were on earth now, -and the enemy were threatening Mary, His mother, or -the other Mary, or the little children He had called to -Him, would seize the sword in His own hand, to defend -them.”</p> - -<p>Red sat back. Over his face swept a flame of relief. -Tom breathed quickly. Samuel Lockhart glanced about<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[71]</span> -him, and saw on some faces startled approval and on -others astonishment and anger.</p> - -<p>Then the talk raged—of course. This was in those -days, already difficult to recall, when men differed about -the part America should take in the conflict; when dread -of involvement called forth strange arguments, unsound -logic; when personal fear for their sons made fathers -stultify themselves by advocating a course which should -keep the boys out of danger. Several of the guests at -Mr. Lockhart’s table were fathers of sons in college—substantial -business or professional men alive with fear -that the war sentiment flaming at the great centres of -education would catch the tow and tinder of the young -men’s imagination, and that before long, whether America -should declare war or not, instead of isolated enlistments -the whole flower of the country’s youth would be off for -the scene of the great disaster.</p> - -<p>Suddenly Red brought his fist down on the table.</p> - -<p>“You’re afraid,” he cried, “of the personal issue, you -fellows! Forget that you have sons—let the sons forget -that they have fathers. What’s America’s plain duty? -Good God—it’s as plain as a pikestaff! She’s got to get -in—to keep her own self-respect.”</p> - -<p>“And to save her own soul,” added Black; and again -the eyes of the two men met across the table.</p> - -<p>It was at this instant that Tom Lockhart took fire. -Up to these last words of Red and Black he had been -merely intensely interested and excited; now, suddenly, -he was aglow with eagerness to show where he stood, he -of the class who in all wars are first to offer themselves. -Almost before he knew it he had spoken, breaking -the silence which had succeeded upon Black’s grave -words.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[72]</span>“I’m ready to go,” he said, and a great flush spread over -his fair young face to the roots of his thick, sandy hair.</p> - -<p>Then, indeed, the table was in an uproar—a subdued -uproar, to be sure, but none the less throbbing with contrary -opinion. As for Samuel Lockhart himself, he could -only stare incredulously at his boy, but the other men, -with the exception of the doctor and the minister, were -instantly upon Tom with hurried words of disapproval. -William Jennings, who sat next him, turned and laid a -remonstrating hand on Tom’s arm.</p> - -<p>“My boy,” he said, fiercely—it was he whose son was -likely to enlist with Canada—“you don’t know what -you’re talking about. For Heaven’s sake, don’t lose your -head like my George! There isn’t any call for you youngsters -to take this thing seriously—leave it to the ones who -are of military age, at least. They’ve got enough men -over there, anyway, to see this war through; if we send -money and munitions, the way we are doing, that’s our -part, and a big part it is, too.”</p> - -<p>Well, Tom found himself wishing in a way that he -hadn’t spoken up, since it had brought all the heavy-weights -down on his undeniably boyish self. And yet, -somehow, when he had glanced just once at Red and -Black, he couldn’t be entirely sorry. Both had given him -a look which he would have done much to earn, and neither -had said a word of remonstrance.</p> - -<p>Yet, after the dinner, his impression that they were -both eager to have him carry his expression of willingness -into that of a fixed purpose, suffered an unexpected change. -As they rose from the table, at a late hour, Red—who had -not been called out yet after all—slipped his arm through -Tom’s, and spoke in his ear.</p> - -<p>“I’m proud of you, lad,” he said, “but I want you to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[73]</span> -think this thing through to the end. Duty sometimes -takes one form and sometimes another. I’ve been watching -your father, and—you see—you dealt him a pretty -heavy blow to-night, and he hasn’t been quite the same -man since. Go slow—that’s only fair to him. You’re not -twenty-one yet, are you?”</p> - -<p>“Pretty near. Next January.”</p> - -<p>“Keep cool till then. We may be in it as a country by -then—I hope so. If we are—perhaps you and I——”</p> - -<p>Tom thrilled. “Will you go, Doctor?”</p> - -<p>“You bet I will! I’d have been off long ago if—— But -I can’t tell you the reason just now. Some day, -perhaps. Meanwhile——”</p> - -<p>He looked at Tom, and Tom looked at him. Then, -both of them, for some unexplainable reason, turned and -looked toward Black, whose eyes were following them.</p> - -<p>“Do you suppose he’ll go if we do declare war?” whispered -Tom.</p> - -<p>A queer expression crossed Red’s face. “They mostly -don’t—his class,” he said, rather contemptuously.</p> - -<p>“Do you think—” Tom hesitated—“he’s—just like his -class?”</p> - -<p>“Not—just like those I’ve known,” admitted Red, -grudgingly. “That is—on the surface. Can’t tell how -deep the difference goes, yet.”</p> - -<p>“I <i>like</i> him!” avowed Tom, honestly.</p> - -<p>Red laughed. “Good for you!” he commented. “I’m—trying -rather hard not to like him.”</p> - -<p>Tom stared. “Oh—why not?” he questioned, eagerly.</p> - -<p>But he didn’t hear the explanation of this extraordinary -statement, for one of the older men came up and hauled -him away by the arm, and he had a bad time of it, mostly, -for the rest of the evening. He was only restrained from<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[74]</span> -making a bolt and getting away from the house by the -remembrance of Black’s promise.</p> - -<p>The time came, however, when for a moment he feared -it was all up with that moonlight spin. He had just -slipped out upon the porch and assured himself that the -night was continuing to be the finest ever, when he heard -Red inside taking leave. He hurried back, and discovered -that the other men were evidently about to take the -cue and go also. He came around to Black’s elbow in -time to hear Red address the minister.</p> - -<p>“Happen to be in the mood for a run of a few miles in -my car?” Red invited, in his careless way which left a -man free to accept or refuse as he chose. “I have to see -a patient yet to-night. It was a pretty fine night when -I came in.”</p> - -<p>Tom couldn’t know—how could he?—what, in the circumstances, -it cost Black to reply as he promptly did:</p> - -<p>“Thank you—I’d like nothing better—except what I’m -going to have: the same thing with Tom Lockhart.”</p> - -<p>Now Tom was a gentleman, and he hastened to release -Black from his promise, though his face plainly showed -his disappointment.</p> - -<p>“Please go with the Doctor, if you like, Mr. Black. -His car can put it all over mine—and he doesn’t ask anybody -very often—as I happen to know.”</p> - -<p>Black smiled. “I’m engaged to you, Tom,” he said, -“and I’m going with you, if you’ll take me. Mighty sorry -I can’t be in two places at the same time, Doctor Burns.”</p> - -<p>“All right,” answered Red—and wouldn’t have admitted -for a farm that he was disappointed. “As for -Tom’s car—it’s a whale,” he added, “and can show my old -Faithful the dust any time. Good-night, then!”</p> - -<p>Whichever was the better car, certain it was that Black,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[75]</span> -in Tom’s, had his first sensation of tremendous speed -during the hour which followed. The boy was excited -by the events of the evening, he was a skillful and daring -driver, and he was conscious of being able to give an older -man a perfectly new experience. Black had frankly told -him that he had never before taken a night drive in a -powerful roadster, with the speed limit whatever the driver -chose to make it. Under this stimulus Tom chose to make -it pretty nearly the extreme of his expensive motor’s -power. The result was that very soon the minister’s hat -was in his hand, and his close-cut black hair taking the stiff -breeze, like Tom’s, as the car gathered herself afresh to fly -down each new stretch of clear road.</p> - -<p>“Like it?” shouted Tom, suddenly, as he slowed down -for a sharp curve.</p> - -<p>“It’s great!”</p> - -<p>“Don’t mind how fast we go?”</p> - -<p>“Not while I trust you—as I do.”</p> - -<p>“You do trust me, eh?” The boy’s voice was exultant.</p> - -<p>“To the limit.”</p> - -<p>“Why do you?”</p> - -<p>“Because you know my life is in your hands. You -wouldn’t risk cutting it short.”</p> - -<p>The motor slackened perceptibly. “There’s not the -least danger of that.”</p> - -<p>“Of course not—with your hands on the wheel. Go -ahead—don’t slow down. You haven’t shown me yet -quite what the car can do, have you?”</p> - -<p>“Well—not quite. Pretty near, though. I knew you -were a good sport. Lots of older men get nervous when -we hit—what we were hitting. Not even R. P. B. drives -in quite that notch—and he’s no coward. He says it’s -all right, if you don’t happen to throw a tire. I never<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[76]</span> -expect to throw one—not at that pace. Never have. -Maybe I better not take any chances with the minister in, -though.”</p> - -<p>“Take any that you’d take for yourself,” commanded -Black. Tom, diminishing his pace of necessity for a -one-way bridge, glanced quickly round at his companion, -to see what Black’s face might reveal that his cool speech -did not. He saw no trace of fear in the clean-cut profile -outlined against the almost daylight of the vivid night; -instead he saw a man seemingly at ease under conditions -which usually, Tom reflected, rather strung most fellows -up, old or young.</p> - -<p>Suddenly Tom spoke his mind: “You <i>are</i> a good -sport,” he said, in his ardent young way. “They mostly -aren’t, though, in your business, are they?—honestly -now? <i>You</i> would go to war, though, wouldn’t you?”</p> - -<p>Then he saw a change of expression indeed. Black’s -lips tightened, his chin seemed to protrude more than -usual—and, as we have stated before, it was a frankly aggressive -chin at any time. Black’s head came round, and -his eyes seemed to look straight through Tom’s into his -cynical young thoughts.</p> - -<p>“Tom,” he said—waited a bit, and then went on, slowly -and with peculiar emphasis—“there’s just one thing I -can never take peaceably from any man—and I don’t -think I have to take it. I have the honour to belong to a -profession which includes thousands of the finest men in -the world—just as your friend Doctor Burns’ profession -includes thousands of fine men. You—and others—never -think of hitting at the profession of medicine and surgery -just because you may happen to know a man here and -there who isn’t a particularly worthy member of it. -There are quacks and charlatans in medicine—but the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[77]</span> -profession isn’t judged by them. Is it quite fair to judge -the ministry by some man you have known who didn’t -seem to measure up?”</p> - -<p>“Why—no, of course not,” admitted Tom. “It’s just -that—I suppose—well—I don’t think there are so many -of ’em who—who——”</p> - -<p>“Want to drive seventy miles an hour—at midnight?”</p> - -<p>Tom laughed boyishly. “I don’t expect that, of -course. But I don’t like long prayers, to tell the truth; -and most of the sermons find fault with folks because -they don’t happen to come up to the preacher’s mark, -and I get fed up on ’em.”</p> - -<p>“Do you like Doctor Burns’ medicine? He set your -leg once, you told me. Did you like that—especially?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, well—if you want to call sermons medicine——” -began Tom, slyly.</p> - -<p>“That’s exactly what many of them are—or should be—and -pretty bitter medicine, too, at that, sometimes. -Shouldn’t a man have your respect who dares to risk -your dislike by giving you the medicine he thinks you -need? Is the man who ventures to stand up and tell you -the plain truth about yourself, whether you like it or not, -exactly a coward?”</p> - -<p>“You’re certainly no coward,” said Tom, with emphasis.</p> - -<p>“Did you ever happen to know a minister who you -thought was a coward?”</p> - -<p>“Not exactly. But—if you want the truth—I don’t -think, if this country should get into war, you’d see an -awful lot of preachers going into it. Why—they don’t -believe in it. They——”</p> - -<p>“Wait and see. We shall get into it—sooner or later—I -hope sooner. And when we do—I don’t think the regiments -will be lacking chaplains.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[78]</span>“Oh!—chaplains!”</p> - -<p>“You think that’s a soft job, do you? Do you happen -to have been reading much about the English and French -chaplains over there, since the war began? And the -priests?”</p> - -<p>“Can’t say I have,” admitted Tom.</p> - -<p>“The only difference that I can find,” said Black, in a -peculiar quiet tone which when he knew him better Tom -discovered to mean deadly earnestness—with a bite in it—“between -a chaplain’s job and a fighting man’s, is that -the right sort of chaplain goes unarmed where the soldier -goes armed—and takes about as many chances, first and -last. And when it comes to bracing the men’s courage -before the fight—and after—well, I think I covet the chaplain’s -chance even more than I do the captain’s.”</p> - -<p>They drove in silence after that for exactly three and -three quarter miles, which, at Tom’s now modified pace, -took about five minutes. Then Black said:</p> - -<p>“I didn’t answer the other part of your question, did I, -Tom?”</p> - -<p>“About whether you’d go to war?” Tom turned, with a -satisfied smile on his lips. “I’ve been thinking about that. -But I guess you answered it, all right.”</p> - -<p>At one o’clock in the morning Tom set Black down before -the manse. For the last half-hour they had had a -jolly talk which had ranged from guns to girls—and back -again to guns. Black seemed to know more about the -guns than the girls, though he had listened with interest -to Tom’s remarks upon both subjects, and had contributed -an anecdote or two which had made Tom shout with glee. -When Black stood upon the sidewalk, a tall, straight figure -in the moonlight, he held out his hand, which Tom gripped -eagerly.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[79]</span>“Thank you for the best hour I’ve had in a month. -That blew all the fog out of my brain, and put a wonderful -new idea into my head.”</p> - -<p>“Mind telling me what it is?” Tom asked.</p> - -<p>“If you’ll keep it quiet till I have it under way. Do you -think we can get a group of fellows, friends of yours and -others, to come to my house once a week—say on Monday -evenings—to talk over this war situation—study it up—discuss -it freely—and plan what we can do about it, over -here—before we get over there?”</p> - -<p>“Do I think so?” Tom’s tone spoke his pleasure as well -as the chuckling laugh he gave. “Do I think so? Why, -the fellows will be crazy to come—after I tell ’em about -this drive and chin of ours. When they know you burned -the road with me at such a clip and never turned a hair, -they’ll fall over one another to get to your house.”</p> - -<p>He enjoyed to the full the laugh he got back from Black -at that—a deep-keyed, whole-souled, delightful laugh, -which told of the richness of the man’s nature. Then—</p> - -<p>“I’d drive at a hundred, hours on end,” declared Black, -“to have you fall in with my schemes like that. Good-night, -Tom, and we’ll organize that club to-morrow.”</p> - -<p>“To-day, you mean.” Tom reluctantly gave his motor -the signal.</p> - -<p>“To-day. At eight o’clock to-night. Be on hand early, -will you, Tom—to help me make things go from the start?”</p> - -<p>“I’ll be sitting on your doorstep at seven thirty.”</p> - -<p>“Good. I’ll open the door at seven twenty-nine. -Good-night, Tom.”</p> - -<p>“Good-night, Mr. Black.”</p> - -<p>But so slowly did Tom drive away that he was not -out of sight of the manse when the door closed on his -friend the minister.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[80]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER VI<br /> - - -<small>HIGH LIGHTS</small></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">“THERE!” said Jane Ray, turning on one last golden -electric bulb cunningly concealed. “I’ve used -every device I know to make the showing tell. <i>Is</i> it -effective? <i>Does</i> it all count, Mrs. Burns? I’ve studied -it so much I don’t know any more.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Redfield Pepper Burns stood beside Miss Ray -at one end of the long shop—a shop no longer—and looked -down it silently for a full minute before she spoke. Then:</p> - -<p>“It’s very wonderful,” she said, in her low, pleasant -voice. “I shouldn’t have dreamed that even you could -do it. It <i>is</i> effective—it <i>does</i> count. The appeal, even -at the first glance, is—astonishing.”</p> - -<p>“The question is—where has the shop gone?”</p> - -<p>This was Miss Lockhart, who was on Mrs. Burns’ -other side. All three were in semi-evening dress of a -quiet sort; and the evening hour was just before that set -for the showing of the posters. Jane Ray had decided -against making a public thing of her exhibition; she had -argued that that would mean a large crowd and little -money. A more exclusive affair, with invitations discreetly -extended, ought to fill just comfortably her limited -space, and bring the dollars she coveted for her Belgians.</p> - -<p>“It isn’t a shop now—it’s a salon,” declared Mrs. Burns. -Jane glowed at this—as well she might. Mrs. Burns,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[81]</span> -with her wealth, her experience of the world, her personality -of exceeding charm, knew whereof she spoke. -Jane knew well that she could not have found a patroness -of her exhibition whose influence could help her more than -that of the wife of Red Pepper Burns.</p> - -<p>“Yes, that’s the word,” Nan agreed. “Miss Ray has -done wonders. The shop has always been a perfectly -charming place—as a shop; but to-night it’s a colourful -spot to solicit not only the eye but the heart. The -pocket-books and purses will fly open—I’m sure of it. -And with Doctor Burns to tell us what we <i>must</i> do—— Oh, -no doubt but every poster will be sold to-night.”</p> - -<p>“I’m not so sure,” Jane said. “They might be, if the -prices bid run low. But I don’t want small prices—I want -big ones—oh, very big! If people will only understand—and -care.”</p> - -<p>The shop door opened, and R. P. Burns and Tom Lockhart -came in together, both in evening dress. Tom’s face -was exultant.</p> - -<p>“I got him!” he called. “I put out the office lights, -chloroformed the office nurse, hauled him upstairs, drew -his bath, and put his clothes upon him—and for a finishing -touch, to make all tight, disconnected the telephone. -First occasion ever known where he was present at any -party before the guests arrived—not to mention being -properly dressed!”</p> - -<p>Red was laughing. He loomed above the group, every -shining red hair in place, his eyes sparkling with eagerness -for the fray. Not in a long time had he had a part to play, -outside his profession, which suited him so well. Himself -war mad from the beginning, impatient a thousand times -over at the apathy of his fellow-citizens under the constantly -growing needs and demands of the world struggle,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[82]</span> -he was welcoming the chance to try his hand and voice -at warming the cold hearts, firing the imaginations, and -reaching the pocket-books thus far mostly shoved deep -down in the prosperous pockets. To be here to-night he -had worked like a fiend all day to cover his lists of calls, -to tie up every possible foreseen demand. At the last -moment he had cut half a dozen strings which threatened -to bind him, instructed his office to take no calls for him -for the coming three hours, and had fled away with Tom, -determined for once to do his duty as he saw it, and not as -any persistent patient might see it.</p> - -<p>“Jolly, but this is a stunning show!” he commented, -gazing round him. “What lighting! Why, you must -have run wires everywhere, Jane! That fellow in blue -on the horse, at the far end, looks as if he were galloping -straight out at us. You must have been on a hanging -committee at some art gallery some time or other.”</p> - -<p>“Never. And Mr. Black is responsible for the first -inspiration about the lighting. He has taken such an -interest. Did you know he got all these Raemakers cartoons -down at the end for me? They just came to-day—he -had to wire and wire to have them here in time. They’re -so splendid—and so terrible—I’ve put them all by themselves.”</p> - -<p>Red strode down the room. Nobody joined him while -he stared with intense concentration at the merciless arraignment -of a merciless foe which was in each Raemakers -stroke. He came back with a fresh fire in his eye.</p> - -<p>“What can I say that will sell those? People will turn -away in holy horror, and say the Dutchman lies. He -hasn’t told half the truth—it can’t be told. I want that -one last on the line myself. I can’t hang it, but I can put -it away—and get it out, now and then, when my pity<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[83]</span> -slackens. Oh, lord—how long! Two years and more -those people have been bleeding, and still we stand on the -outside and look on, like gamins at a curbstone fight! -Shame on us!” And Red ran his hand through his thick, -coppery locks again and again, till they stood on end -above his frowning brows.</p> - -<p>“Hush, dear! Here come the first people—and you are -one of the receiving hosts. You mustn’t look so savage. -Smooth down your hair—and smile again!” His wife -spoke warningly.</p> - -<p>“All right—I’ll try. Where’s the minister? I thought -he was going to stand by to-night? He has a better grip -on his feelings than I have. He keeps his hair where it -belongs. I’m too Irish for that.”</p> - -<p>“I’m here.” And Black came up to shake hands, -ahead of the guests who were alighting from a big car outside. -“I was after just one more poster—and got it out -of the express office at the last minute. No, I’m not going -to show it yet. I think it comes later.”</p> - -<p>“Now we’re all six here—I’m so glad,” whispered Nan -Lockhart. “Do you know, somehow, I was never so -proud in my life of being one of a receiving group. Nothing -ever seemed so worth while. Mr. Black, it’s fine of -you to give so much time to this.”</p> - -<p>“Fine! It’s just an escape valve for me, Miss Lockhart. -Besides, what could be better worth doing than -this, just now?”</p> - -<p>“Nothing that I can think of. But it took Jane Ray -to conceive it. Isn’t she looking beautifully distinguished -to-night, in that perfectly ripping smoke-blue gown, and -her hair so shiningly smooth and close?”</p> - -<p>“Ripping?” repeated Black, his eyes following Miss -Ray as she went forward to welcome her first guests. “It’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[84]</span> -very plain—and unobtrusive. I shouldn’t have noticed it. -She does look distinguished, as you say, but it isn’t the -dress, is it?”</p> - -<p>Nan laughed. “How that would please her! The -dress is plain and unobtrusive—and absolutely perfect in -every line! It makes what I’m wearing look so fussy I -want to go home and change it! Jane has a genius for -knowing how to look like a picture. I suppose that’s the -artist in her. Do you know, I think the people who are -asked here to-night feel particularly flattered by an invitation -from Jane? Isn’t that quite an achievement—for a -shopkeeper?”</p> - -<p>“That word doesn’t seem to apply to her, somehow,” -said Black, and changed the subject rather abruptly. -Two minutes later he had left Miss Lockhart, to greet -one of his elderly parishioners, a rich widow who bore -down upon him in full sail. Nan Lockhart looked -after him with an amused expression about her well-cut -mouth.</p> - -<p>“You didn’t like my calling her a shopkeeper. And -you don’t intend to discuss any girl with me or anybody -else, do you, Mr. Black?” she said to herself. “All right—be -discreet, like the saint you are supposed to be—and really -are, for the most part, I think. But you’re pretty human, -too. And Fanny Fitch <i>is</i> wearing a frock and hat to-night -that I think even you will be forced to notice.”</p> - -<p>It was not long before she had an opportunity to test the -truth of this prediction. The room filled rapidly, the -narrow street outside becoming choked with cars. Among -the early comers were Mr. and Mrs. Samuel Lockhart -and Miss Fitch. As Fanny appeared in the ever lengthening -line of arrivals, Nan found herself waiting with interest -for the moment when she should reach Jane Ray<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[85]</span> -and Robert Black, who, as it chanced just then, stood near -each other.</p> - -<p>No doubt but Miss Fitch was a charmer. Even Nan -was forced to admit that she had never seen Fanny more -radiant. As she glanced from Fanny to Jane and back -again the comparison which occurred to her was that between -a gray-blue pigeon and a bird of Paradise! And -yet—there was nothing dull about Jane—and nothing -flaunting about Fanny. It was not a matter of clothes -and colour after all, it was an affair of personality. Jane -was beautifully distinguished in appearance—Nan had -chosen the right words to describe her—and Fanny was -exquisitely lovely to look at. And there you were—simply -nowhere in estimating the two, unless you had something -more to go by than looks. Nan, with intimate -knowledge of Fanny Fitch and an acquaintance with -Jane Ray which offered one of the most interesting attractions -she had ever felt toward a member of her own sex, -found herself wondering how any man who should chance -on this evening to meet them both for the first time might -succeed in characterizing them, afterward, for the benefit, -say, of an invalid mother!</p> - -<p>It was great fun, and as good as a play, she reflected, to -see Jane and Fanny meet. If there was the slightest -touch of condescension in Fanny’s manner as she approached -her hostess, it had no choice but to disappear -before Jane’s adorable poise. Nobody could condescend -to Jane. It wasn’t that she didn’t permit it—it simply -couldn’t exist in the presence of that straightforward -young individuality of hers. From the top of her satiny -smooth, high-held, dark head, to the toe of the smart -little slipper which matched the blue of her gown, she was -quietly sure of herself. And beside her some of the town’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[86]</span> -most aristocratic matrons and maids looked decidedly less -the aristocrat than Jane!</p> - -<p>Around the edges of the room moved the guests, -in low-voiced smiling orderliness, scanning the posters, -large and small, so cunningly displayed, with every art of -concealed lighting to show them off. The appeal of some -was only in the flaming patriotism of the vigorous lines -and brilliant colouring; in others all the cunning of the -painter’s brush had wrought to produce a restrained yet -thrilling effect hardly second to that of a finished picture. -The subjects were taken from everywhere; from the -trenches, from No Man’s Land, from civilian homes, -from the cellars of the outcasts and exiles. And as the -people whom Jane had invited to this strange exhibit -moved on and on, past one heart-stirring sketch to another, -the smiles on many lips died out, and now and then -one saw more than a hint of rising tears quickly suppressed. -Those who could look at that showing, unmoved, -were few.</p> - -<p>And yet, presently when Burns was upon his platform, -offering his first poster for sale, though it went quickly, -it was at no high price. Following this, he took the least -appealing; and so on, in due course, and the bids still ran -low. Little by little, however, he forced them up—considerably -more by the tell-tale expression upon his face, -when he was dissatisfied with a bid, than by what he said. -As an auctioneer, Red had begun his effort a little disappointingly -to those who expected his words, backed -by his personality, to do great things from the start. The -explanation he gave to Jane Ray, in a minute’s interval, -was undoubtedly the true one.</p> - -<p>“If they were all men, I could bully them into it. Somehow, -these well-dressed women stifle me. I’m not used<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[87]</span> -to facing them, except professionally. What’s the matter? -Shall I let go and fire straight, at any risk of offending? -They ought to be offering five times as much, you know. -They simply aren’t taking this thing seriously, and I -don’t know how to make them.”</p> - -<p>“If you can’t make them, I don’t know who could. -Yes, speak plainly—why not? We ought not to be -getting tens and twenties for such posters as those last -three—each one should have brought a hundred at least. -Try this one next, please.”</p> - -<p>Burns stood straight again. He held up the sheet Jane -offered him. It was a bit of wonderful colouring, showing -a group of French peasants staring up at an airplane high -overhead—the first British flier on his way to the Front. -The awe, the faith in those watching eyes, was touching.</p> - -<p>“Give me a hundred for this, won’t you?” he called. -“Start the bid at that, and then send it flying. Never -mind whether you want the poster or not. Some day it -will be valuable—if not in money, then in sentiment. -Now, then, who speaks?”</p> - -<p>Nobody spoke. Then: “Oh, come, Doctor,” said one -rotund gentleman, laughing, “you can’t rob us that way. -The thing’s a cheap, machine-coloured print—interesting, -certainly, but no more. I’ll give you ten for it—that’s -enough. There’s just one poster in the whole show that’s -worth a hundred dollars—and that’s the man on the -horse. When you offer that I’ll be prepared to see you.”</p> - -<p>“The man on the horse goes for not a cent under five -hundred,” declared Burns, fiercely. “Starts at that—and -ends at seven—eight—nine—a thousand! Meanwhile——”</p> - -<p>But he couldn’t do it. It was a polite, suburban company, -no great wealth in it, just comfortably prosperous<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[88]</span> -people, not particularly patriotic as yet. The time was -to come when they would see things differently, but at -that period of the Great War they were mostly cold to the -needs of the sufferers three thousand miles away. They -saw no reason why Jane Ray should invite them to an -exclusive showing of her really quite entertaining -collection, and then expect them to open their pocket-books -into her lap. Each one intended to buy one poster, of -course, out of courtesy to Jane, but—the lower priced the -better. And all the lower-priced ones were sold. The -bidding went slack, all but died. Burns took out his big -white handkerchief and wiped his brow, smiling ruefully -down at Jane, who nodded encouragingly back. But even -that encouraging nod couldn’t tell Red how to do it.</p> - -<p>Before this distressing stage in the proceedings had been -reached, Black, with a lightning-like working of the mind, -had been making plans of his own in case they should be -needed. He had stood beside Nan Lockhart, at the back -of the room, his arms folded, his eyes watching closely the -scene before him. He did not look at all, as he stood -there, like a man who could take an auctioneer’s place -and “get away with it,” as the modern expressive phrase -goes. In his clerical dress, his dark hair very smooth -above his clear brow, his eyes intent, his lips unconsciously -pressed rather firmly together under the influence of his -anxiety for Burns’ success in the difficult task, Black’s -appearance suggested rather that of a restrained onlooker -at a race who watches a favourite jockey, than that of one -who longs to leap into the saddle and dash round the -course himself, to win the race. But this was precisely -what he was aching to do.</p> - -<p>Deeply as he admired the clever surgeon, much as he -hoped for the friendship of the highly intelligent man,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[89]</span> -he was not long in finding out that Red had not been -built for a persuader in public places. If the red-headed -doctor had been confronted with a desperate case of -emergency surgery, he could have flung off his coat, rolled -up his sleeves, commandeered an amateur nurse for an -assistant, and achieved a victory as brilliant as it was -spectacular. Doubtless, Black reflected, if it had been a -matter of partisan politics, and an enemy to the good of the -state had met Red in open debate, the doctor could have -downed him in three rounds by sheer force of clean-cut -argument and an arm thrown high in convincing gesture. -But—given a roomful of well-to-do people, not overmuch -interested in Belgian orphans, and a man trying to sell -them something they didn’t want for more than they had -any idea of paying for it—well—Red simply couldn’t do it, -that was all. And Miss Ray, in picking him out for the -job on account of his popularity and his well-known fearlessness -in telling people what they must do—Miss Ray -had simply missed it, that was all. It was an error in -judgment, and nobody was seeing that more clearly than -Jane herself, as Black discovered by each glance at her.</p> - -<p>She was standing at Red’s elbow, handing him up -posters one by one, and giving the buyer a charming -glance of gratitude for each purchase as she moved forward -to hand the poster spoken for. But her usually -warm colour had receded a little, her lips, between the -smiles, seemed a trifle set, and a peculiar sense of her -disappointment reached across the room and impressed -itself upon Black as definitely as if she had signalled to -him. Just once he caught her eyes, as if in search of his, -and he found himself giving her back a look of sympathy -and understanding. He was longing to come to her aid. -Would it be possible, in any way, to do that? He was accustomed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[90]</span> -to facing people, in the mass, as Red was not, -and accustomed to handling them, to reading from their -faces what would influence them; in plain words, to being -master of them, and leading them whither they would not -voluntarily go. Would the moment conceivably come when -he could step into the breach and, without offending Red -or seeming presumptuous, take his place?</p> - -<p>At least he could be prepared. And as his mind worked, -led by Red’s very mistakes into seeing what might offset -them, a suggestion suddenly shaped itself. Instantly he -acted upon it. He beckoned Tom Lockhart, took him -quietly aside into the half-lighted rear shop where the big -antique pieces removed from the larger room to make space -crowded one another unmercifully, and spoke under his -breath:</p> - -<p>“Tom, you have more nerve than any fellow I know. -Around the corner, on Seventh Street, at the Du Bois’s, -there’s a Belgian baby—came to-day. Please go and -ask them for it, will you?—and hurry back. Tell them -to pick it out of the cradle just as it is, wrap a shawl around -it, and let you bring it here. They’re French—they’ll -understand—I was there to-day. Quick!”</p> - -<p>With a smothered whoop Tom was off, and Black -returned to the larger room, remaining, however, near the -door of the back shop. Ten minutes later an eager whisper -through a crack of that door summoned him and he slipped -out to find Tom gingerly holding a bundle from one end -of which protruded a dark little head.</p> - -<p>“Here he is—poor little cuss! He’s about the most -whipped looking specimen I ever saw. Think he’ll sell a -poster? He’s sold one already—blamed if he hasn’t—at -the best price Tommy Boy can afford.”</p> - -<p>“Keep him quiet here for a bit, can you, Tom? I’ll<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[91]</span> -come for him when I think his chance is ripe. Will he -keep still?”</p> - -<p>“Too used to shifting for himself not to keep still, I -guess.” Tom gazed pityingly into the thin little face -with its big eyes regarding him steadily in the dim light -of the outer room. “All right, I’ll keep him quiet. But -don’t hold off the crisis too long. R. P.’s about at the -end of his wind. First time in my life I ever saw Doctor -in a corner, but he’s sure in one now.”</p> - -<p>“He’s done nobly; we just aren’t educated up to the -idea yet, that’s all. Baby may not help out, but we’ll -try.”</p> - -<p>Black went back. Red turned and gave him a look -as he came in which said, “I wish I were about a million -miles away from here. How in thunder do you do it?” -As if the thought were father to the demand he suddenly -beckoned and spoke:</p> - -<p>“Mr. Black, suppose you come up here and tell us about -these last—and best—posters. My oratory has run out. -I know you have one poster of your own you haven’t -shown—isn’t it time for that now?”</p> - -<p>Black smiled up at him—a friendly smile which answered: -“I’d like nothing better than to help you out, -old fellow!” But aloud he said: “Rather a telling one -has just been brought in by Mr. Thomas Lockhart. With -your permission I’ll be glad to show it to everybody.”</p> - -<p>And with that he was out of the room and back again, -and the baby—out of its wrappings, its thin, tiny frame, -pinched face and claw-like hands showing with a dumb -eloquence—was held cosily in the tall minister’s left arm, -and his right hand was gently smoothing back the curly -black locks from the wistful little brow. He took one step -upon the platform Red was about to vacate, and looked<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[92]</span> -down into the upturned faces. “Don’t go yet, please, -Doctor,” he requested, in the other’s ear. Reluctantly -Burns waited, scanning the baby.</p> - -<p>“There isn’t anything I can say, ladies and gentlemen,” -Black began, very quietly, and looking back into the small -face as he went on. “It’s all said by this little chap. -He’s just been brought over to this country, with scores -more, by the Committee for Belgian Relief. A kind-hearted -French family near by have offered to care for him -until a home can be found. The father of this family was -at the pier when the ship came in, saw this baby, and -brought him home with him. It is for hundreds of such -little forlorn creatures as he that Miss Ray wants to raise -the largest sum we are able to give her. We can’t conceive -how much money is needed, but we can’t possibly -make the amount too large.”</p> - -<p>The absolute simplicity of this little speech—for this -was all he said—coupled with the touching appeal of the -baby in his arms, was what did it; Mrs. Burns and Nan -and Jane all said so afterward. With the instinct for the -right course at the right moment which is the peculiar gift -of the public speaker, Black divined, at the instant that he -came upon the platform, that the fewer his words the -more loudly would the tiny, silent figure do its own soliciting. -And so it proved.</p> - -<p>“Please show the Belgian posters, Doctor Burns,” -Black suggested, and Red, taking them from Jane’s hands, -held them up one by one without comment. And one by -one they were bid off, while Black stood and held the baby -and looked on, his eyes eloquent of his interest. Bid off -at sums which ranged higher and higher, as the company, -now as ardent in the cause of the living, breathing baby -before them as they had been apathetic in that of his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[93]</span> -small compatriots across the sea of whom they had only -heard, vied with each other to prove that they could be -generous when they really saw the reason why.</p> - -<p>“I’d certainly like a picture of Mr. Black and that baby -at this minute,” murmured Fanny Fitch in the ear of Nan -Lockhart, as she returned from a trip to the front of the -room, where she had recklessly emptied a gold mesh-bag -to buy that for which she did not care at all. She had -looked up into Robert Black’s face as she stood below him, -and had received one of those strictly impartial smiles -which he was now bestowing upon everybody who asked -for them; and she had come away thoroughly determined -to secure for herself, before much more time had passed, -a smile which should be purely personal.</p> - -<p>“He does look dear with the baby,” admitted Nan, -heartily. “He holds him as if he had held babies all his -life. Oh, it’s splendid, the way things are going now. -How <i>was</i> he inspired to get that child?”</p> - -<p>“Eye for the dramatic, my dear,” suggested her friend. -“All successful ministers have it. The unsuccessful ones -lack it, and go around wondering why their schemes fail. -It’s perfectly legitimate—and it makes them much more -interesting. The Reverend Robert looks as innocent as -the child in his arms, but he’s really a born actor.”</p> - -<p>“Fanny Fitch! How ridiculous!”</p> - -<p>“If he weren’t he would have rushed up there with the -baby and harangued us for fifteen minutes about the needs -of the Belgians. But he has the dramatic sense just to -stand there looking like a young father angel, with those -dark brows of his bent on the poor child, and we fall for -him like the idiots we are—as he knew we would. I never -dreamed of spending that last ten dollars. I didn’t spend -it for the Belgians at all. I spent it for Robert Black!”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[94]</span>“I’m glad you’re frank enough to admit it.”</p> - -<p>“What’s the use in trying to conceal anything from you, -Sharp Eyes?” And Miss Fitch returned to her occupation -of observing the events now transpiring up in front, -with a pair of lustrous eyes which missed no detail.</p> - -<p>Jane’s receptacle for the money handed her was nearly -full now. It was a beautiful big bowl of Sheffield plate, -one of the best in her collection, and it had called forth -much admiring comment. Red sold his last poster—not -all were for sale. This last one was the great “man on -the horse,” galloping with sword upraised and mouth -shouting—the most vivid and striking of all, though to -the eye of the connoisseur worth far less than some of -quieter and more subtle suggestion. It was promptly -bid in by the rotund gentleman who had challenged Red -half an hour before, and he named so high a figure that -he had no contestants. He received his purchase with a -large gesture of triumph and pleasure with himself, and -Jane, accepting his check, written with a flourish, gave -him the expression of gratitude he had coveted.</p> - -<p>She took the baby from Black, then, saying: “Your -poster—hasn’t the time come? Won’t you show it yourself, -please?”</p> - -<p>“I want to, if I may. But it’s not for sale.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! Then we have all we are to get to-night.”</p> - -<p>“I’m not sure. Yes—I think we have all we are to get—to-night. -But—perhaps we have something to give.”</p> - -<p>She didn’t understand—how should she? She watched -him go back to the little platform, its boards covered with -a fine rug and its backing a piece of valuable French tapestry -above which hung the French and Belgian flags. -Jane had conceived this effective setting for her auctioneer, -but it was none the less effective for the man who had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[95]</span> -taken Burns’ place. Standing there he slowly unrolled -the poster, and the people before him ceased their buzzing -talk to watch, for something in his face told them that -here was that which they must not miss.</p> - -<p>Ah, but this was an original! How had he procured it? -It was a strip of canvas which Black unrolled and silently -held up before the hundred pairs of gazing eyes. And as -they looked, the last whisper gave way to a stillness which -was its own commentary on and tribute to the story told -by an artist who was somehow different from the rest.</p> - -<p>The colouring of the picture—it was a poster like the -others—was all rich blues and browns, with a hint of yellow -and one gleam of white. The background was a dim huddle -of ruins and battle smoke. Close in the foreground were -two figures—a stalwart British soldier in khaki and steel -hat supporting a wounded Frenchman in the “horizon -blue” of the French army, his bare head bandaged and -drooping upon his chest. These two figures alone were -infinitely touching, but that which gave the picture its -thrilling appeal was that at which the Briton, his hand at -the salute, was gazing over the bent head of his comrade. -And of that, at the extreme left of the picture, all that -one saw was a rough wooden post, and upon it, nailed to -it by the rigid feet, two still, naked limbs. A roadside -Calvary—or the suggestion of it—that was all one saw. -But the look in the saluting soldier’s rugged face was one -of awe—and adoration.</p> - -<p>Black held the canvas for a long minute, his own grave -face turned toward it. Not even Fanny Fitch, in her -cynical young heart, could dare to accuse him of “acting” -now. The silence over the room was breathless—it was -the hush which tells its story unmistakably. Before it -could be broken, Black lowered the canvas.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[96]</span>“That’s all,” he said. “It brought it home to me so -powerfully what is happening ‘over there’—I just wanted -you to see it, too. That’s where the gifts you have -given to-night are going.”</p> - -<p>“Mr. Black——” It was Mr. Samuel Lockhart, speaking -in a low voice from the front—“is that—to be bought?”</p> - -<p>“It is mine, Mr. Lockhart. It is not for sale.”</p> - -<p>“It is wonderful,” said the elder man, with reverence.</p> - -<p>Black rolled the canvas, and crossing the room put it -out of sight. When he came back a little crowd surrounded -the Belgian baby, in Jane’s arms.</p> - -<p>The assemblage took its leave with apparent reluctance. -In the suburban town there had been nothing just like -this evening in the memory of the oldest present. Those -who carried posters with them held them rather ostentatiously; -those who had none were explaining, some of -them, that they had not been able to secure the ones -they wanted, but that they had been happy to contribute -something to so worthy a fund.</p> - -<p>“Quite unique, and certainly very delightfully managed,” -one stout matron said to Jane as she extended a -cordial hand. “You had courage, my dear, to attempt -this here. You must have raised more than you could -have expected.”</p> - -<p>“I haven’t counted it,” Jane answered. “It’s been a -happy thing to try to do it—I’m very grateful to you all.”</p> - -<p>When the last had gone, except the five who had been -her helpers, she sat down with the Sheffield bowl in her -lap, and Red took his place beside her, to help her count. -Tom, having run home with the baby, was back again, -eagerly hanging over Red’s shoulder as he put bills of the -same denomination together, and sorted silver. The -other three looked on, eagerly awaiting the result.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[97]</span>Red announced the sum total—it was a goodly sum, -running well into the hundreds. He looked up at Black.</p> - -<p>“Three fourths of that came in after you brought up -that blamed little beggar,” he said. “And the things -you didn’t say were what turned the trick! By George, -you taught me a lesson to-night. Speech may be silver, -but a silence like that of yours sure was golden. I didn’t -know any man of your profession understood it so well. -Hanged if I don’t keep my tongue between my teeth, -after this!”</p> - -<p>A burst of appreciatively skeptical laughter from those -who knew him answered this. But Black, though he -smiled too, answered soberly: “There’s a time for everything. -You plowed—and the baby harrowed, that was -all. The Belgian fund reaps. I know we’re all mighty -happy about it.”</p> - -<p>When he left, a few minutes later, Jane Ray gave him -the sort of handshake, with her firm young hand closing -with his in full reciprocity, which one man gives to another.</p> - -<p>“I can’t thank you,” she said. “It was wonderfully -done. But—do you mind telling?—you must have held -many babies!”</p> - -<p>How Black himself laughed then, his head thrown back, -his white teeth gleaming. “Being a woman, that’s what -you get out of it,” he said. “Yes—I’ve held every one -I could ever get hold of. I like them a bit bigger than -that—a regular armful. Poor ‘blamed little beggar’—as -the Doctor called him! But he’ll be an armful some day. -We’ll see to that.”</p> - -<p>“You bet we will,” declared Tom, who had been lingering -to get away with Black. “Night, Miss Ray. I’ll be -around in the morning to help you move things back.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[98]</span> -Don’t you touch a darned thing till I come. Promise! I -say, aren’t you grateful to me? I borrowed that baby, -and brought him here, too. The attention I attracted was -awful. I had about ten dozen street kids with me all -the way. Maybe that wasn’t just as useful a stunt as -standing up and saying things, under the Belgian flag—eh?”</p> - -<p>She sent him her most adorable look. “Mr. Tom, -you’re a trump. You have my deepest appreciation—and -good-night!”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>“I say,” said Tom, a minute later, when they were well -away, “I call her some girl. She’s—she’s—well, she’s a -regular fellow—and you know how I mean that, don’t -you?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” replied Black, looking fixedly up the street, as if -he saw there something which interested him very much. -“I know how you mean that. I think you are—right. -Tom, would you object to telling me what all those women -meant about my holding that baby? How on earth did -I hold it differently from the way any man would hold it?”</p> - -<p>“Young Mrs. Germain told me,” said Tom, chuckling -with glee, “that you held it in your left arm. They said -nobody except an old hand would do that. To have your -right free to do other things—see? I never understood -about that before. I carried the kid on my right arm.”</p> - -<p>“After this,” declared Robert McPherson Black, firmly, -“if I ever have occasion to hold an infant in public, I shall -do it with <i>my</i> right arm!”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[99]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER VII<br /> - - -<small>RATHER A BIG THING</small></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">BLACK was standing in the vestibule of a train which -was bringing him back, at a late hour, from the city -where he had spent the day at a conference of clergymen. -He was somewhat weary, for the day had been filled with -long debate over a certain question which had seemed -to him vital indeed but not debatable. He had not hesitated -to say so, and had been delayed after the evening -session was over by men who still wanted to talk it out -interminably with him. He had missed his trolley and -had therefore taken the train.</p> - -<p>As the train drew in Black found himself crowded next to -a young man who seemed to be suffering from an excessive -nervousness. He was tall and thin, rather handsome of -face, but with eyes so deeply shadowed that they suggested -extreme and recent illness. His manner was so -shaky, as he went down the steps ahead of Black, and -he set down his bag upon the platform with such a gesture -of supreme fatigue, that Black stopped to find out if -he were indeed ill, and if he needed help. At the same -moment the stranger looked round at him, and put a -question in a quick, breathless voice which indicated both -anxiety and difficulty at self-control.</p> - -<p>“Can you tell me,” he jerked out, “where Miss Ray’s -shop is—antique shop—Jane Ray? I ought to know—forgotten -the street.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[100]</span>Black hesitated. Send this unknown and unnatural -young man to Jane at this late hour? He looked both -dissipated and irresponsible, and Black thought he caught -the odour of alcohol upon his breath.</p> - -<p>“It’s late. The shop will be closed,” Black suggested. -“Hadn’t you better go to a hotel to-night, and look it up -in the morning?”</p> - -<p>The stranger frowned, and answered irritably—almost -angrily:</p> - -<p>“I should say not. Miss Ray’s my sister. Will you -tell me where the shop is, or have I got to find somebody -who will?”</p> - -<p>Black made a quick decision. “I’ll show you the way. -It’s not far out of my course.”</p> - -<p>His eyes searched the stranger’s face, to find there confirmation -of the statement which otherwise he would not -have been inclined to believe. The resemblance, taking -into account the difference between Jane’s look of vitality -and radiant energy, and this young man’s whole aspect -of broken health and overwrought nerves, was very -apparent. And as the stranger looked down the platform, -and his profile was presented to Black’s scrutiny, he saw -that the same definite outlines of beauty and distinction -were there, not to be mistaken. On this basis he could -have no hesitation in guiding the markedly feeble footsteps -to her door, though he was wondering, rather anxiously, -just what his arrival, evidently unexpected by her, -would mean to her. Black had never heard anybody -mention her having a brother—he had understood she -was quite alone in the world.</p> - -<p>The two set out down the street. The young -man walked so falteringly that after a minute Black -took his well-worn leather bag away from him, saying<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[101]</span> -pleasantly: “Let me carry it. You’re not quite fit, I’m -sure.”</p> - -<p>The other glowered. “Not fit! What do you mean -by that? I’m fit enough—I’m just worn out, that’s all. -Overwork—illness—nerves—I’m all in. But if you mean -to imply——”</p> - -<p>“I don’t mean to imply anything, Mr. Ray—if that is -your name. I can see you have been ill. Let me put -my hand under your arm, won’t you? I’d call a cab -if there were any to be had—I’m afraid there aren’t.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t want a cab—can walk. Walk faster, that’s all. -I’m liable to go to pieces pretty soon—haven’t eaten a -mouthful to-day—couldn’t look at it. These confounded -nerves——”</p> - -<p>There was no doubt but his nerves were confounded, and -badly, at that. As they walked the few squares necessary -to get to Jane’s little street, Black felt his companion becoming -more and more desperately shaken in body and -mind. Several times he said something which struck -Black as all but irrational. More than once he would -have wavered far away from the straight course if Black’s -arm had not held him steady. A policeman looked sharply -at the pair as they passed under the light at a corner, and -Black was aware that but one inference was likely—one -he was not at all sure was untrue.</p> - -<p>The shop was dark when they reached it, and Black -rang the bell. Just as a light appeared, and he saw -Jane coming through from her rooms in the rear, the -stranger suddenly sank against Black’s shoulder, and he -was forced to drop the bag and hold him supported in -both arms. So when Jane opened the door, it was to this -singular and somewhat startling apparition.</p> - -<p>“Don’t be frightened, Miss Ray,” said Black’s quietly<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[102]</span> -assured voice. “He’s only faint, I think. This is—your -brother? He’s been ill, and wasn’t quite strong enough -to make the journey. We’ll get him lying down as fast -as we can.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Cary!” Jane was out of the door in an instant, -and her strong young arm was around her brother from -the opposite side. “Can you walk, dear?”</p> - -<p>He hardly had to walk, so nearly did they carry him. -They had him through the shop and into the little living -room in no time at all, and Jane had run for a stimulant. -The glass she held to his lips and the prostrate position -revived him quickly. He made a wry face at the tumbler -she had set down upon a table.</p> - -<p>“Can’t you do better than that?” he questioned, weakly. -“For God’s sake give me the real thing—I need it. I’m -dying for it—yes, dying literally, if you want to know.”</p> - -<p>Jane shook her head. “No, dear—I haven’t any—and -I’m sure you don’t need it. I’ll make you some strong -tea. Oh, I’m so glad you came, Cary!”</p> - -<p>The young man seemed to try to smile—but the smile -looked more like tears. He held up a shaking hand.</p> - -<p>“Nerves—Jane—nerves. I’m all in—I’m a wreck. -I’m——” His look wavered around at Black, who stood -above and behind him. “We’ll excuse you, sir,” he said, -with an effort at dignity. “I’m very much obliged to -you—and now—please go!”</p> - -<p>Jane looked up at Black with a face into which the quick -and lovely colour poured in a flood. “My brother isn’t -himself,” she said under her breath. “Do forgive him. I’m -so grateful to you. I can get on with him nicely now.”</p> - -<p>“I can surely be of service to you yet, Miss Ray,” -Black said with decision. “Your brother needs care, and -I can help you make him comfortable.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[103]</span>She shook her head. “I can do all he needs,” she said, -“and it’s late. I can’t——”</p> - -<p>And then Cary Ray decided things for himself by sitting -up and pointing with a shaking finger and a voice of fright -toward a shadowy corner. “What’s that!” he whispered. -“What’s that? You haven’t got ’em here, too, have you? -I thought <i>you</i> wouldn’t have ’em—not <i>you</i>!”</p> - -<p>There was nothing in the corner. Black laid young Ray -gently but firmly down upon the couch again. “No, -you’re mistaken,” he said quietly. “We haven’t got -them here—and we’re not going to have them. Trust me -for that—I know all about it.”</p> - -<p>Across the dark head, again fallen weakly upon the -couch pillow, Black’s eyes met Jane’s. “Please let me -stay awhile?” he urged.</p> - -<p>She knew then that he knew, and that it was of no use -to try to hide the pitiful, shameful thing from him. She -nodded and turned away, and he saw her clench one hand -tight as she went to Cary’s bag and opened it. He saw -her search through the bag, and take from it something -which he did not see, because she went out of the room -with it. She was gone some time. While she was away, -he occupied himself with keeping Cary’s attention from -concentrating on that corner of which his suspicions became -now and then acute.</p> - -<p>When she returned, her brother was talking fast and -disconnectedly.</p> - -<p>“I haven’t slept—” he was saying, in a tone that was -half a wail—“I haven’t slept for a week—haven’t had a -decent night’s sleep in months. I—— How can you expect—I -tell you a fellow can’t keep going—work’s all -gone to pot——”</p> - -<p>Jane came close to him. “You shall stay here and rest<span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[104]</span> -up, Cary,” she said gently, with her hand on his hot head. -“And I’ll feed you wonderfully and get you strong again. -Could you take just a little something now?—A glass of -milk—a tiny sandwich——”</p> - -<p>He shook his head, with a gesture of distaste. “Don’t -say food to me—don’t bring any in my sight. There’s -just one thing I want—and I know you won’t give it to -me. Jane——” he caught at her hand—“it would make me -sleep, and God knows I need that—I shall die without it. -I—that thing in the corner—oh, I didn’t think it would -track me here——”</p> - -<p>“It isn’t here. Forget it!” Black spoke sternly. -“You’re going to bed, and to sleep—I’m going to see to -that. Miss Ray—you’ll let me get your brother into his -bed, won’t you? Once there, I’ll put him to sleep—I -know I can—and that’s what he needs more than anything.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll go and make his room ready,” said Jane Ray. -She had to yield. She knew Cary needed a man’s -hand, a man’s will. Strong and resourceful though she -was, she understood that at this pass no woman could -control the disordered nerves as a man could. She could -only be thankful that she had this man at her service at -this hour, though perhaps he was the last man she would -have picked out, or have been willing to have know of her -unhappy situation. But he knew it now, and somehow, -as her eyes met his, she could not be quite sorry, after all, -that it was he who was to help her. At least, whether he -could deal with Cary or not, she could be absolutely sure -that she could trust him. And this was not because of his -profession—rather, to Jane, it was in spite of it.</p> - -<p>So, presently, Black found himself putting Cary Ray -to bed—in a room he didn’t in the least deserve to have,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[105]</span> -for it was unquestionably Jane’s own. Every detail of its -furnishing told him that, though he did not allow himself -to study it much from this point of view. It was rather a -large room, and as simply outfitted as could be imagined, -and yet somehow its whole aspect gave the impression -of character and charm. And Black had never in his life -hated to see a man installed in a place which didn’t belong -to him as he hated to see Cary Ray made comfortable -in this exquisitely chaste room of Jane’s. Yet he couldn’t -very well protest. He knew as well as if he had been told -that it was the only room of adequate size and comfort -which she had to put at her brother’s service, and that, -since he was ill and in need, she wouldn’t dream of tucking -him up on a couch somewhere as a substitute. For one -bad moment Black was astonished to discover that he was -longing to pitch this dissipated young man out of the -house, and tell his sister to keep her white sheets clean -from his contaminated body.</p> - -<p>But then, of course, he settled to his task, sternly putting -such thoughts away from him. Having got Cary stretched -between those same sheets, the lights extinguished—except -that from an amber-shaded reading light beside the bed—instead -of taking a chair he sat down on the foot of the bed -in a friendly sort of way, and remarked in the most matter-of-fact -tone in the world—“This reminds me of a night I -spent once down in Virginia——” And from that he -was off, by degrees, and not at all as if he had set himself -to entertain his patient, into a recital that presently captured -Cary’s hitherto fitful attention and held it until -the sense of strangeness in the whole situation had somewhat -gone by for the invalid—if not for the nurse.</p> - -<p>The night was not spent, however, in telling stories. -It is true that Cary himself told one or two—and lurid<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[106]</span> -tales they were, with more than a suspicion of nightmare -in them, the nightmare of drugs or of a disordered brain. -There were intervals—though few of them—when the -young man sank into a brief sleep, as if from profound -exhaustion, but he invariably awoke with a start and a -cry to a condition which became, as the hours went on, -more and more difficult to control. Black did succeed -in controlling it, by sheer force of will; he seemed to have -a peculiar power to do this. His hand upon Cary’s, his -voice in his ear, and time and again the strained nerves -and muscles would relax, and the crisis would pass. But -more than once, so wild was the almost delirium of the -sufferer, that it took all Black’s physical strength to keep -command.</p> - -<p>Jane was there only a part of the time. It was during -the periods of repose and half slumber that she would -slip noiselessly into the room, stand watching her brother -silently, or sit down upon the foot of the bed opposite -Black, to look at the thin face on the pillow with her unhappy -heart in her eyes. Black had never seen much of -Jane’s heart before; he couldn’t help seeing something of -it now. It was beyond his power to refrain, now and then, -as the two sat in the hush of the night, so strangely thrown -together in a situation which neither could ever have -foreseen, from looking across at Jane’s clear-cut profile -in the subdued light, and studying it as if he had never -seen it before. His pity for her grew as the hours went -by, and with his pity a tenderness grew also, until, quite -suddenly, he was startled by a consciousness that he -wanted to go around to her and take her hands in his and -tell her—that he would stand by her to the last limit of his -power.</p> - -<p>On one of her trips into the room, when Cary happened<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[107]</span> -to be quiet for a little, Jane whispered to Black that she -would take his place and he must go downstairs and eat -the lunch she had prepared for him. When he told her -that he didn’t need it she only pointed, quite imperiously, -to the door, and he obediently left the room and went -to do her bidding. It was as he was finishing the delicious -viands he found on the table in the room below that his -ear, alert for any signs of trouble above, caught the sinister -sound he was listening for. He ran up, three steps at -a time, to find Jane struggling in the grip of her half-crazed -brother, who was demanding in language so profane -that it seemed to burn the air, the instant production of -the one thing in the world he wanted.</p> - -<p>“You’ve got it—you’re hiding it—you little fool! Do -you want to see me dead before morning—you——” -Then came the oaths, this time but half uttered before a -strong, smothering hand descended upon the twisting -mouth, and a stern voice said commandingly: “Not another -word like that, Ray, or I’ll choke you till you’re -still!” At the same moment a jerk of Black’s head toward -the door and his fiery glance at Jane told her that he -wanted her out of the room and out of hearing as fast as -she could get away.</p> - -<p>It was a long tussle this time, but it was over at last, and -once more, worn out by the violence of his own efforts, -Cary lay quiet for a little. Confident that though not -asleep he would not at once find strength to fight again, -Black stole out of the room. In the narrow hall outside -he found Jane, sitting on the top stair, her head buried in -her arms.</p> - -<p>Thus far he had known Jane only as a finely practical -young business woman, as independent as she was capable. -He had seen that adorable head of hers, with its smooth<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[108]</span> -crown of chestnut hair, always held high, with a suggestion -of indomitable courage. Now—it looked as if it had -been brought low—incredibly low. She had long before -exchanged the dress in which she had spent the day in -the shop for a plain white skirt and blouse such as nurses -wear, and in this costume she looked much younger and -more girlish than in the more conventional dress. Her -white-shod feet were crossed as a girl crosses them; and -altogether, in the dim light from the half-open door, she -seemed to Black more like Cary’s dependent young sister -than one older than himself to whom he had come as to a -refuge. He didn’t know, as yet, that after all it was Cary -who was the older.</p> - -<p>At the sound of the light footstep, however, Jane instantly -lifted her head, and then rose quickly to her feet, -and he saw her smile—an undoubtedly forced little smile, -but full of pluck.</p> - -<p>“You must be desperately tired,” she whispered. “But -I don’t know what I should have done without you this -night.”</p> - -<p>“You couldn’t have done without me. I can’t tell you -how glad I am to be here. And I’m not half as tired as -you are. Won’t you go now and lie down? You can’t -do a bit of good by staying on guard here, and you’ll need -your strength to-morrow. This isn’t going to be a short -siege, I’m afraid.”</p> - -<p>“I know it’s not. But I’ve been through it all before. -I shall call Doctor Burns to-morrow. I tried to to-night, -so I could release you, but he was away for the night. -And—I didn’t want to call anybody else. Nobody else—here—knows, -and—I can’t have them know.”</p> - -<p>“Nobody knows you have a brother?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, they’ve seen Cary—but only when he was—himself.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[109]</span> -He is—Cary is a genius, Mr. Black; he just has—the -defects of his temperament. He—I can show you——”</p> - -<p>And then, quite suddenly and unexpectedly, the tears -leaped into her eyes. Like a small boy, abashed at having -shown emotion, she threw back her head, smiling again, -and drawing the back of her hand across the tell-tale eyes. -“Oh, I’m ashamed of myself,” she breathed. “Believe -me, I’m not so weak as this looks.”</p> - -<p>“You’re not in the least weak. And it’s three o’clock -in the morning, the hour when things take hold. See -here——” And he looked her straight in the eyes. -“Jane Ray,” he said, not too gently, but as a man might -say it to a man, though he spoke low, on account of that -open door—“I want you to know that, whatever comes, -I’ll see you through. I won’t add—‘if you’ll let me’—for -you’re going to let me. You can’t help it—after to-night.” -And he held out his hand. “Shall we make a -pledge of it?” he added, smiling gravely.</p> - -<p>She looked straight back at him. “You can’t—see me -through,” she said. “You—I’ve no claim on you. You -have your church——”</p> - -<p>“I have. Is that a reason why I can’t stand by you? -If it is—it’s not the church I gave myself to. And—I -think you need another brother. I’m sure Cary does.” -His hand was waiting. He looked down at it. “Are -you going to make me take it back?” he asked. “That -would—feel very strange. I didn’t offer it—to take -back.”</p> - -<p>She put her own into it then. He gave it a long, strong -clasp and let it go. Without looking at him she turned -and ran downstairs, and he went back into the room where -Cary was beginning to stir restlessly again.</p> - -<p>He was conscious, in every fibre, that something had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[110]</span> -happened to him. He had not had the least idea, when -he had begun his vigils that night, that before morning -he should be thrilled as he never had been thrilled -before, by a simple handclasp, and a few spoken words, -offering only what he had offered many a man or woman in -trouble before now, his sympathy and help. But somehow—this -had been different. He was acutely aware that -the wish to see Jane Ray through whatever difficulties -and problems might lie before her in connection with this -brother of hers was a mighty different sort of wish from -any that he had experienced before. And the fact that -she had tacitly accepted his help—proud Jane—for he -knew she was proud—gave him a satisfaction out of all -proportion to any ordinary significance attached to so -obvious and natural a suggestion. There was now a -bond between them—that was the thing that took hold -of him; a bond which made possible—well, what did it -make possible? What did he want it to make possible? -He didn’t try to go into that. One thing was sure: he had, -by an accident, come into her life in a way he had never -dreamed of, and once in—he wanted to stay. This touch -of intimate comradeship had been something new in his -experience. It might never happen again; certainly he -could not continue to take care of Cary Ray through -nights such as this one had been. Doubtless Doctor -Burns, once called, would take care of that; Black knew -that under the proper treatment the following night might -be one of comparative calm. But he could come to see -him often; could cultivate his friendship—gain as much -influence over him as possible. And if others found out -about it, criticized him for giving time and thought to -people outside his parish—well—they might. Black’s -decision on this head was one which brooked no interference.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[111]</span> -Where he could help he would help, in his parish or -out of it....</p> - -<p>It was at five o’clock in the morning that he fell asleep. -He had not meant to go to sleep, and had been caught -unawares. For an hour Cary had been quiet. Black, -sitting on the edge of his bed, had found a new way to -keep hold of his man—and that was by keeping hold of -him literally. In a moment of desperation he had seized -the thin, restless fingers and forced them to remain -still in his own. The firm contact had produced a remarkable -effect. After a little Cary’s hand had laid hold of -Black’s and clung to it, while the invalid himself had sunk -almost immediately away into something more resembling -real slumber than anything in the past night. Finding -this expedient so successful Black had allowed it to continue, -for each time he tried to release himself Cary took -a fresh grip, like a child who will not let go his hold upon -his mother, even in unconsciousness. Finally, Black had -made himself as comfortable as he could by slipping down -upon the floor, where he could rest his head upon the bed -without withdrawing his hand. And in this posture, one -eloquent of his own fatigue from the long vigil, he went -soundly to sleep.</p> - -<p>So when, with the approach of daylight, Jane came in -to tell her assistant that he must go home now, while the -streets were empty of observant eyes, she found what she -had not expected. She stood looking at the two figures -the one stretched so comfortably in the bed, the other -propped in so strained an attitude outside of it. As she -looked something very womanly and beautiful came into -her eyes.</p> - -<p>“Is it possible—” this was her thought—“that <i>you</i> -have done this—for <i>me</i>? I didn’t know men of your<span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[112]</span> -profession ever did things like this. But if I had known -any of them ever did, I should have known it would be -you!”</p> - -<p>He looked like a tall and fine-featured boy as he slept -in his twisted position, did Robert McPherson Black. -He had taken off his coat while he wrestled with Cary, -and the white shirt-sleeves rolled to the elbows, showing -a sinewy forearm, added to the boyish effect. Suddenly -Jane’s eyes caught sight of something on one bare arm -which made her stoop lower, and then flush with chagrin. -It was the unmistakable mark upon the fair flesh of gripping -fingers with nails which had torn—already turning -dark, as such deep bruises do. It was a little thing -enough—Jane knew already how her new friend would -make light of it if she mentioned it—and yet somehow it was -rather a big thing, too. It gave emphasis to the service -he had done her; how could she have dealt, alone, with -wild brutality like that?</p> - -<p>Then, as she looked, Cary roused, turned, opened his -eyes, withdrew his hand with a jerk, and Black woke also. -And Cary was sane again, and very weak, and spoke -querulously:</p> - -<p>“What the devil——” he began. “Who are you—and -what are you doing here?” Then, to Jane,—“Is this a -cheap lodging house, and do you take in every vagrant -that comes along?”</p> - -<p>“I took you in, dear,” said Jane, quietly. “And Mr. -Black has stayed by you all night. He must be very -tired.”</p> - -<p>Black laughed. “I’ve had quite a sleep, anyhow,” he -said, attempting with considerable difficulty to get upon -his feet. “Certain areas seem to have been more asleep -than others, though. My arm—” and he began to pinch<span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[113]</span> -and pound it—“looks to be all here, but it feels rather absent.” -It was absent indeed, and hanging by his side, quite -numb.</p> - -<p>Cary’s eyes widened. “You don’t mean—why, you’re the -chap that—that——” His weak voice took on a tension.</p> - -<p>“Never mind about the identification. I’m glad you’re -feeling better this morning.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t feel better. I feet like the devil. But I—I’m -certainly obliged to you. I—have you been here all—night?”</p> - -<p>“Of course. Oh, thank you, Miss Ray—it’ll come back -in a minute,” for Jane had come up and was applying a -vigorous massage with her own hands to the inert arm.</p> - -<p>“Well, I’ll be——” but Cary left the exclamation unfinished, -and began another. “I say—I’m not worth it!” he -groaned, and buried his head in the crumpled white pillow.</p> - -<p>Downstairs, presently, Black, ready to go, spoke authoritatively. -“Please promise me you will call the Doctor -early.”</p> - -<p>“I will,” Jane agreed. “He has seen Cary before. If -I could only have had him last night, and spared you—I -shouldn’t feel so guilty this morning. Why——” and -at this moment, for the first time, a recognition came to -her. It left her a little stunned. “Mr. Black,” she said, -unhappily, “I’m just realizing what day this is. It’s——”</p> - -<p>“Yes, it’s Sunday,” admitted Black, smiling, “And -none the worse for that, is it?”</p> - -<p>“But—you have to preach—and you’ve been up all -night!”</p> - -<p>“I suppose it’s because I’m a Scot, but—I’ve seldom -left my sermons till Saturday and Sunday to prepare. -I’m all armed and equipped, Miss Ray—you’ve nothing -to regret.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[114]</span>“But you haven’t slept—you’re frightfully tired——”</p> - -<p>“Do I look as haggard as that? If I do, it’s only because -I need a clean shave. Come—if you weren’t tied -up I’d challenge you to go to church and see if I can’t hit -from the shoulder, in spite of my lusty right arm’s getting -numb for ten minutes in your service. Good-by, for the -present, Miss Ray. I shall call you up, later, to learn if -the Doctor’s been here. And I shall—make friends with -your brother the very best I know how.”</p> - -<p>He looked straight down into her uplifted eyes as he -shook hands—with no lingering or extra pressure this -time, just the hard, comradely grasp it was his nature to -give. Then he was gone, out into the early morning twilight, -without a glance to right or left to see if any saw him -go.</p> - -<p>An hour later Red came in, looked the situation over, -and commented brusquely:</p> - -<p>“You must have had a—an Inferno—of a night with -him.”</p> - -<p>“I didn’t—because I wasn’t alone. Mr. Black stayed -all night and took care of him.”</p> - -<p>“What?” The quick question spoke incredulity. Red -stared at her.</p> - -<p>“He brought Cary from the station, and then stayed—because—he -thought he was needed. I don’t know quite -what I should have done without him.”</p> - -<p>Red whistled. “You bet you don’t. Well, well—the -minister certainly is game. Didn’t worry about what -some old lady of the parish might think, eh?”</p> - -<p>Jane drew herself up. “You don’t mean that, Doctor -Burns.”</p> - -<p>He laughed. “No, I don’t mean that. There was -every reason why he should ignore any such possibility—I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[115]</span> -understand the situation exactly. But I think it was -rather game of him, just the same. A case like Cary’s -isn’t exactly a joke to take care of, and the average outsider -gets out from under—and sends flowers to show his -sympathy—or a bottle of whisky, according to his lights. -Well—to go back to this precious brother of yours——”</p> - -<p>“That is the right adjective,” said Jane Ray, steadily. -“You know perfectly well, Doctor Burns, he’s all I have.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I know.” He returned the look. “And I’ll do -my best to put him on his feet again. But he needs something -neither you nor I can give him. I’m inclined to -think—and this is something of a concession for me to -make, Jane—I’m inclined to think Robert Black could. -Cary’s a dreamer—and a weak one. Bob Black’s a -dreamer—but a strong one. If he could get Cary to—well—to -dream the right sort of dream—— You see, it’s a -case where a knowledge of psychology might take a hand -where a knowledge of pathology falls down. Do you get -me?”</p> - -<p>“I think I do. You want me to—encourage an acquaintance -between them?”</p> - -<p>“That’s exactly what I mean. I know you’re no church-goer, -my dear—and I admit I’ve never been much of a one -myself. I feel a bit differently of late—perhaps you can -guess why. If you could get Cary under the influence -of this man Black—a friendship between them might -do the trick. Anyhow, don’t lay any stones in the way -out of fear of putting yourself under obligations to -Black. I’ve discovered that he’s happiest when he’s -doing some absolutely impossible thing for somebody -to whom he’s under no obligation to do it. People take -advantage of a disposition like that—but he can’t exactly -be trampled on, either—so you’re pretty safe. Now—to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[116]</span> -come down to brass tacks——” And he fell to giving her -precise directions as to the line of treatment he wished carried -out.</p> - -<p>“He’ll sleep to-night,” he prophesied. “He’s got to. -I’ll come around this evening and put him under for you. -Good-bye for now, and remember I’m on the job.”</p> - -<p>She was feeling, as she went back to her difficult task, -more hopeful about Cary than she had ever felt hitherto. -Well she might. She had now enlisted in his behalf the -whole power of a reconstructing force of which until now -she had hardly recognized the existence.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[117]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER VIII<br /> - - -<small>SPENDTHRIFTS</small></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap2">ROBERT BLACK was dressing for the day. This -procedure, simple and commonplace enough in the -schedule of the ordinary man, was for him usually a somewhat -complicated process. The reason for this was that -he was apt to be, as to-day, attempting at the same time -to finish the reading from some left-over chapter of the -book he had been devouring the last thing before he went -to bed. Of course he could neither take his cold tub nor -shave his always darkening chin while perusing the latest -addition to his rapidly growing library. But the moment -these activities were over, he could and did don his attire -for the day while engaged in scanning the printed page -propped upon the chest of drawers before him. The result -of this economy of time was that he seldom actually heard -the bell ring to summon him to his breakfast, and was -accustomed to appear in the dining-room doorway, book -in one hand, morning paper just gathered in from the -doorstep in the other, and to find there Mrs. Hodder -awaiting him in a grieved silence. He would then offer -her a smiling apology, upon which she would shake her -head over the incomprehensible ways of men who thought -more of the feeding of brains than body, and proceed devotedly -to serve him with food kept hot for his coming.</p> - -<p>On this particular morning Black, strolling in as usual, -book under his arm, newspaper stretched before him,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[118]</span> -eagerly snatching at the headlines always big with war -news these days, paused to finish a long paragraph, at the -same time saying cheerfully, “Good morning, Mrs. Hodder. -Late again, am I? Sorry! Afraid I’m hopeless. -But—listen to this:” The paragraph finished, he -looked up, emphatic comment on his lips. It died there -even as it was born, for the room was empty, the table -unset, the curtains at the windows undrawn. In brief, no -breakfast was awaiting the minister this morning, and -there was no possible explanation visible.</p> - -<p>Black may have been an incorrigible student; he was -also unquestionably a man of action. He threw book and -paper upon the table and ascended the back stairs in long -leaps. Had Mrs. Hodder overslept? It was inconceivable. -The only other logical supposition then was that -she was ill. If she were ill—and alone—of course he -couldn’t get to her too soon—hence the leaps. She must -be very ill indeed to keep her from preparing the breakfast -which, he had discovered, was to her, in the manse, -nothing less than a rite.</p> - -<p>He knocked upon her door. An unhappy voice instantly -replied: “Open the door—just a crack—Mr. -Black, and I’ll tell you——”</p> - -<p>He opened the door the required crack, and the explanation -issued, in unmistakable accents of suffering:</p> - -<p>“I tried my best to get down, I did indeed, Mr. Black. -But the truth is I can’t move. No—no—” at an exclamation -from outside the door denoting sympathy and alarm—“I -haven’t got a stroke nor anything like that. It’s nothing -more nor less than the lumbago, and I’m humiliated to -death to think I got such a thing. I’m subject to it, and -that’s the truth, and I never know when it’ll ketch me, -but I haven’t had a touch of it since I’ve been with you.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[119]</span> -I begun to think there was something about the manse—and -doing for a minister, maybe—that kept it away. But—it’s -caught me good this time, and I don’t know what -you’ll do for your breakfast. I think maybe you’d better -go over to the——”</p> - -<p>But here Black interrupted her. “I’ll get my own -breakfast,” he announced firmly, “and yours, too. Stay -perfectly quiet till I bring you up a tray. After that we’ll -have the doctor in to see you——”</p> - -<p>He was interrupted in his turn. “I don’t want any -doctor. Doctors can’t do a thing for lumbago—except -tell you you got chilled or something, and to keep still -and rest up. When the pain goes it goes, and you can’t -tell when. Maybe ’long about noon I can get downstairs. -I don’t want any breakfast, and if you’ll go over to the——”</p> - -<p>“I’m not going to the hotel, Mrs. Hodder—and you’re -not going without your breakfast. I will——”</p> - -<p>“You can’t cook!”</p> - -<p>“I can cook enough to keep us from starving. Now, -lie still and I’ll——”</p> - -<p>“You don’t know where a thing is——”</p> - -<p>“I can find out.”</p> - -<p>A groan issued from the hidden bed. “I never knew -a man that could. Listen here, Mr. Black. Now the -coffee’s in the closet up above the kitchen table, the third -door from the right. It’s in the same can it comes in, -but it ain’t ground, and the grinder’s in the pantry, -fastened to the wall. There may be some basins piled in -front of it—I don’t remember—likely they is. The -cream’s in the ice-chest—and <i>don’t</i> skim the first pan you -come to, because that’s night’s milk. You want to skim -yesterday morning’s pan, and that’s pushed back farther. -Now the bread-box——”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[120]</span>“I know where that is——”</p> - -<p>“The oatmeal’s in the double-boiler—all you have to do -is to set it front of the stove, and make sure the water -ain’t all boiled away. Lucky I always cook <i>that</i> the night -before. I suppose you don’t know how to light the gas -in the broiler, so you can toast your bread. It’s the third -knob to the left——”</p> - -<p>Black got away at last, further instructions following -him by the air line, in spite of his shouted assurance that -he could find everything and do everything, and that his -housekeeper should rest comfortably and stop worrying. -It must be confessed, however, that he was worrying a -bit himself, for his first thought that he would make a -breakfast of oatmeal—since that was already cooked—and -let it go at that, was instantly followed by the recollection -that Mrs. Hodder didn’t eat oatmeal herself, but relied -principally upon the toast and coffee and boiled egg he -himself was accustomed to take with her. Unquestionably -she must have these, and it was up to him to prepare -them.</p> - -<p>He removed his coat, rolled up his shirt-sleeves, and -went at it. He lighted the gas and moved the double-boiler -forward, thus assuring himself of one staple article -upon the breakfast schedule. He then began a search for -the coffee, congratulating himself upon remembering that -the filtered beverage with which he was accustomed to be -served took time to make. Thus began the tragic hour -which followed....</p> - -<p>Three quarters of an hour later young Tom Lockwood -came to the manse door and rang the bell. Black paused, -halfway between stove and pantry, then turned back -to the stove, because his sense of smell told him unmistakably -that something fatally wrong was occurring there.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[121]</span> -He tried to diagnose the case in a hurry, failed, and hastened -unwillingly through the house to the door, wondering -just how flushed and upset he looked. He felt both to an -extreme degree. Absolutely nothing seemed to be going -right with that breakfast.</p> - -<p>Tom came in, in his customary breezy way. “Morning! -Thought I’d drop in and see if you didn’t want to run -up on the hills to-day, same as you said a while back, -when we both had a morning to spare.” He paused, -surveying his host with an observant eye. “Anything -the matter, Mr. Black? Haven’t had—bad news, or -anything?”</p> - -<p>Black smiled. “Do I look as despondent as that? No, -no—everything’s all right, thank you. But I’m afraid -I can’t get away this morning to go with you. My housekeeper’s -not very well. I——”</p> - -<p>“Look here.” Tom eyed a black mark on the minister’s -forehead, and noted the rolled-up shirt-sleeves. “You’re -not—trying to get breakfast, are you? I say—I’ll bet -that’s what you’re doing. If you are, let me help. I can -make dandy coffee.” Suddenly he sniffed the air. “Something’s -burning!”</p> - -<p>The two ran back to the kitchen, making a race of it. -Black won, his nostrils full now of a metallic odour. He -dashed up to the stove where a double-boiler was protesting -that its lower section had long since boiled dry and -was being ruined, and hastily removed it. He gazed at it -ruefully.</p> - -<p>“She told me to look out for it,” he admitted.</p> - -<p>“Some little cook, you are!” Tom, hands in pockets, -surveyed a saucepan in which two eggs were boiling violently, -fragments of white issuing from cracked shells. -“Busted ’em when you put ’em in, didn’t you? How<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[122]</span> -long have they been at it—or isn’t there any time limit to -the way you like your eggs?”</p> - -<p>Black snatched the saucepan off. “I think I must have -put them on some twenty minutes ago. You see, the -toast distracted my mind.” He set down the saucepan -and hurriedly wrenched open the door of the broiler. -“Oh—thunder!” he exploded. Blackened ruins were all -that met the eye.</p> - -<p>Tom leaned against a table, exploding joyously. “Want -me to say it for you?” he offered.</p> - -<p>“Thanks.” Black’s jaw was now set grimly. “I -wonder if there’s any fool thing I haven’t done—or failed -to do. Anyhow, the coffee——”</p> - -<p>Tom got ahead of him at that, lifted the pot, turned up -the lid, estimated the contents of the upper container, and -shook his head. “The brew will be somewhat pale, methinks,” -was his comment. “I say, Mr. Black, you’re -no camper, are you?”</p> - -<p>“Never had the chance. And never spent an hour -learning to cook. I’m awfully humiliated, but that doesn’t -help it any. It did seem simple—to boil an egg and make -a slice of toast.”</p> - -<p>“It isn’t—it’s darned complicated. Oatmeal and coffee -make the scheme horribly intricate, too. I know all about -it. I’ve leaped around between two campfires and frizzled -my bacon to death while I rescued my coffee, and knocked -over my coffee pot while I fished up the little scraps of bacon -from the bottom of the frying-pan. Here—I’ll fix the -coffee. Start some more toast, and we’ll hash up that -hard-boiled-egg effect to lay on top, and pretend we meant -it that way from the first. Along towards noon we’ll have -that tray ready for the lady upstairs.”</p> - -<p>“Tom, you’re a man and a brother. But I’m going to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[123]</span> -send you off and see this thing through alone if it takes all -day.” And Black pushed him gently but firmly toward -the door. Tom, laughing, found it no use to resist. He -paused to lay an appraising hand on the bare forearm -which was showing such unexpected strength.</p> - -<p>“Some muscle, I’ll say. Nobody’d guess it under that -clerical coat-sleeve. Look here—you’ll come over to -dinner to-night, and get a square meal? Mother’ll be——”</p> - -<p>“Tom, if you so much as mention the situation here I’ll -make you pay dearly—see if I don’t! We’re all right. -I’ll never make these same mistakes again. If Mrs. -Hodder isn’t down by night I’ll buy a tin of baked beans. -Promise you won’t give me away.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, all right, all right. You can trust me. But I -don’t see why——”</p> - -<p>“I do—and that’s enough. Good-bye, Tom.”</p> - -<p>They went through the hall arm in arm, parted at the -door, and Tom ran back to his car. “You’re some Scotchman, -Robert Black,” he said to himself. “But I wish -you’d let me make that coffee.”</p> - -<p>It was nine-thirty by the kitchen clock when Mrs. -Hodder received her breakfast tray. She had managed, -smotheredly groaning, to don a wrapper, and to comb her -iron-gray locks, so that according to her ideas of propriety -she might decently admit her employer to her rigidly neat -apartment.</p> - -<p>“I’m terrible sorry to make you all this trouble, Mr. -Black,” she said. “My, it’s wonderful how you’ve done -all this.” And she eyed the little tray with its cup of -steaming coffee, now a deep black in hue, its two slices of -curling but unburned toast, and its opened egg.</p> - -<p>“I think it’s rather wonderful myself,” the minister -conceded. Moisture stood upon his brow; his right wrist<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[124]</span> -showed a red mark as of a burn; but his look was triumphant. -“I hope you’ll enjoy it. And I’ve asked Doctor -Burns to look in, on his rounds, and fix you up. If he says -you should have a nurse we’ll have one.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t want the doctor, and I won’t have a nurse—for -the lumbago; I’d feel like a fool. All that worries me -is how you’ll manage till I can get round. You ain’t used -to doin’ for yourself.”</p> - -<p>“I’ve done for myself in most ways ever since I came -over from Scotland, a boy of sixteen. Come, eat your -egg, Mrs. Hodder. I’ll be back for the tray soon. Let -me put another pillow behind your back——”</p> - -<p>He would wait on her, she couldn’t help it, and it must -be admitted she rather enjoyed it, in spite of the pain that -caught her afresh with every smallest move. It was like -having a nice son to look after her, she thought. She -submitted to his edict that she was to trust him to run the -house in her absence from the kitchen, and if she had her -doubts as to how he would accomplish this, they gave way -before the decision in his tone.</p> - -<p>It was three days after this that Red, coming in at five -in the afternoon, to take a look at Mrs. Hodder, whom he -had been obliged to neglect since his first visit in a pressure -of work for sicker patients, discovered Black in the midst -of his new activities. The minister was hurriedly sweeping -and dusting his study, having rushed home from a -round of calls at the recollection that a committee meeting, -which included three women, was to be held there that -evening. Mrs. Hodder was accustomed to keep the room -in careful order; he himself had been throwing things -about it for three days now,—and undusted black walnut -desks and other dark furniture certainly do show neglect -in a fashion peculiarly unreserved.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[125]</span>“Well, well!” Red paused in the study door. “I -knew you were a man of action, but I didn’t know it extended -this far. Can’t anybody be found to bridge the -chasm?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t want anybody, thanks. A little exercise won’t -hurt me. Will you stop a minute? I’ll dust that leather -chair for you.”</p> - -<p>To his surprise Red moved over to the chair and sat -down on the arm of it. “You look a trifle weary,” he -observed.</p> - -<p>“That’s the dirt on my face. I swept the room with -violence—it needed it. Most of the dust settled on me.”</p> - -<p>“They should equip the manse with a vacuum cleaner. -Been rather busy to-day?”</p> - -<p>“Somewhat. Have you?” Black’s glance said that in -both cases the fact went without saying.</p> - -<p>“I heard of you in a place or two—been on your trail -more or less all day, as it happens.”</p> - -<p>“I presume so. This is my day for calling at the -hospital. It struck me I was on <i>your</i> trail, Doctor.”</p> - -<p>“A sort of vicious circle? If you feel as vicious as I do -after it, you’re ready for anything. What do you say to a -camp supper in the woods to-night—instead of tinned -beans?”</p> - -<p>There were two items in this speech which arrested -Black’s attention. He stopped dusting. “What do you -know about tinned beans?” he inquired, suspiciously.</p> - -<p>“Tom has no use for ’em,” was the innocent reply. -“Never mind—he didn’t tell anybody but me. I’ve been -having things rather thick myself lately, and just now—well, -I feel like taking to the tall timber. Want to go with -me? The woods are rather nice—on a dry winter night -like this.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[126]</span>“You don’t mean it literally—a camp supper?”</p> - -<p>“Good Lord, man, where were you brought up? I -thought you were a country boy?”</p> - -<p>“I am—of the South country—Scotland first—the -States second. But I never went camping in my life. I -never had time.”</p> - -<p>“Till this week?” Red’s eyes twinkled enjoyingly. -“You can make coffee by now, I’ll wager. But you can’t -touch me at making it. Put on your collar and come along. -I’ll treat you to a new experience, and by the look of you, -you need it. So do I—we’ll clear out together.”</p> - -<p>“I can’t leave Mrs. Hodder without her supper—and -I have a committee meeting at eight. I’m mighty sorry, -Doctor——”</p> - -<p>“You needn’t be. I’ll fix the whole thing, and have -you back in time for the bunch. Come—take orders from -me, for once.”</p> - -<p>Of course Black never had wanted to do anything in his -life as he wanted to accept this extraordinary and most -unprecedented invitation from the red-headed doctor -whom he could not yet call his friend. The high barriers -were down between them, there could be no doubt of that. -Red no longer avoided the minister; he came to church -now and then; the two met here and there with entire -friendliness, and had more than once consulted each other -on matters of mutual interest. But Red, except as he had -taken Black into his car when passing him upon the road, -had never directly sought him out on what looked like a -basis of real pleasure in his society. And now, when Red, -running upstairs to see Mrs. Hodder, and coming down -to announce that all she wanted for supper was a little tea -and bread and butter, and that it was up to Black to fix -up a tray in a hurry and be ready when he, Red, should<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[127]</span> -get back—in about fifteen minutes—well, Black was -pretty glad to give in, cast his broom and dust cloth into -the kitchen closet, wash his hands, and put a little water -to boil in the bottom of the kettle over a gas flame turned -up so high that it was warranted to have the water bubbling -in a jiffy!</p> - -<p>“Now, you just go along with the doctor and rest up,” -commanded Mrs. Hodder, when the tray appeared. “He -told me he was going to take you out to dinner—and I -guess you need it—living on canned stuff, so. He thinks -I can get down to-morrow, and I certainly do hope so. -You look about beat out—and no wonder.”</p> - -<p>With this cordial send-off Black ran downstairs like a -boy let out of school, his weariness already lessening under -the stimulus of the coming adventure. Tired? Just -to amuse himself, late last evening, he had made a list of -the things he had done, the people he had seen, the letters -he had written, the telephone calls he had answered—and -all the rest of it. It had been a formidable list. And -living on tinned beans, and crackers and cheese, had not -been—— Oh, well—what did it matter, so he had got his -work done, slighted nothing and nobody—though he could -be by no means sure of that! What minister ever could?</p> - -<p>He dressed as Red had ordered—heavy shoes, sweater -under his overcoat, cap instead of hat—he felt indeed like -a boy off on a lark, only that his busy, self-supporting life -had not furnished him with many comparisons in the way -of larks. As he ran down the manse steps he realized -that it was a perfect winter night. There had been little -snow of late; the air was dry and not too cold; the stars -were out. And he was going camping in the woods with -Red Pepper Burns—and it was not up to him to do the -cooking!</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[128]</span>The car slid up to the curb, a big basket in the place -where Black was to put his feet; he had to straddle it. -There was not too much time to spare—only a little over -two hours. The car leaped away down the street, and -in no time was off over the macadamized road on which -speed could be made. And then, a mile away from that -road, with rough going for that mile—but who cared?—they -came to a clump of woods lying on a hillside, and the -two were out and scrambling up it in the dark, Red evidently -following a trail with accuracy, for Black found no -difficulty in keeping up with him.</p> - -<p>Upon the top of the hill was a bare, stony space, sheltered -from the sides but open to the stars. And here, in -astonishingly little time, were made two leaping fires the -basis for which had been a small basket of materials -brought in the car, upon which hot foundation the gathered -sticks of the wood had no choice but to burn. Rustling -fuel with energy, Black soon found himself ready to discard -his overcoat, and by the time the thick steak Red -was manipulating had reached its rich perfection, as only -that master of camp cookery could make it, Black was -thinking that, big as it was, he could devour the whole of -it himself.</p> - -<p>Coffee—what coffee! Had he ever known the taste -of it before, Black wondered, as he sniffed the delicious -fragrance? Red had worked so swiftly—in entire silence—that -the hands of Black’s watch pointed to a bare seven -o’clock when he set his teeth into the first hot, juicy morsel -of meat, feeling like a starved hound who has been fed -upon scraps for a month.</p> - -<p>“Oh, jolly!” he ejaculated. “I never tasted anything -so good in my life. Or was so warm on a winter night—outdoors!”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[129]</span>“You bet you never tasted anything so good—nor were -so warm outdoors. Why, man, you’ve missed the best -fun in life, if this is your first experience. How does it -happen?”</p> - -<p>“I’ve never done anything but work, and my work -never took me into the woods, that’s all. I’ve looked at -them longingly many a time, but—there was always -something else to do. What a place this is! Of all places -on earth to come to to-night this seems the best. It’s -an old favourite camping spot of yours?”</p> - -<p>“One of many. This is nearest—I can run to it when -I haven’t time to get farther. Even so—I don’t manage -it very often.”</p> - -<p>“I’m sure you don’t!” Black’s eyes, in the firelight, -looked across into Red’s. The moment the cookery was -done Red had replenished both fires, and the two men now -sat on two facing logs between them. “Your time is -fuller than that of any man I ever knew,” Black added.</p> - -<p>“Lots of busy men in the world.”</p> - -<p>“I know. But your hours are fuller than their full -hours because of what you do—your profession.”</p> - -<p>“I do only what I have to do. But you—I wonder if -you know it, Black—you’re a spendthrift!”</p> - -<p>“What?” The explosive tone spoke amazement.</p> - -<p>Red nodded. “I’ve been wanting to tell you for some -time. Do you know you probably weigh about fifteen -pounds less than you did when you came here? Keep -that up, and you’ll be down to rock bottom.”</p> - -<p>Black laughed. He held up one arm, the hand clenched. -“Do you remember the challenge I gave you last summer, -Doctor, to a wrestle, any time you might take me up? -If we weren’t both stuffed, just now, I’d have it out with -you, here and now.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[130]</span>“Very likely you could put it all over me—though I’m -not so sure of that.” Red was eyeing his companion with -the professional eye still. “But—go on as you are doing, -and a year from now it’ll be different. You’re wasting -nervous energy—and you can’t afford to. It’s as I say—you’re -a spendthrift. What’s the use?”</p> - -<p>“I’m a Scotsman—and that’s equivalent to saying I -spend only what’s necessary. It’s a contradiction in -terms——”</p> - -<p>“It is not—excuse me. I’ve been reading about one -of your Scottish regiments over there—cut to pieces—and -they knew they were going to be when they went into -it. Call them thrifty—of their lives?”</p> - -<p>“Ah, that’s different. They were glorious. As for -that, Doctor—to right-about-face with my defense—why -shouldn’t one be a spendthrift with his life? You’re one -yourself.”</p> - -<p>“Not I. I practice my profession, and mine only. -You practice—about four. Last week I caught you playing -nurse to a family of small children while their mother -went shopping.” Red held up a silencing hand at Black’s -laughter. “Yes, I know she hadn’t been out for a month. -That same night you made a speech somewhere—and sat -up the rest of the night with Cary Ray—— Oh, yes—I -know he’s improved a lot lately, but he got restless that -night and you stuck by. Next day——”</p> - -<p>“Doctor Burns——”</p> - -<p>“Wait a minute. Next day you——”</p> - -<p>“How do you come to be keeping tab on me?” Black -stood up, fire in his eye. “See here! Last week you did -seven operations on patients who couldn’t afford to pay -you a cent—and they weren’t in charity wards, either. -Day before yesterday——”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[131]</span>But he had to stop, having but fairly begun. Red’s -expression said he wouldn’t stand for it. The two regarded -each other in the light of the fires, and both faces -were glowing ruddily. They suggested two antagonists -about to spring.</p> - -<p>“If I’m a spendthrift, so are you!” Black challenged. -“Why shouldn’t we be, at that? Who gets anything out -of life—not to mention giving anything—who isn’t a -spendthrift? ‘<i>He who saveth his life shall lose it</i>’—and -nobody knows that better than you, Doctor Burns!”</p> - -<p>“But you waste yours, you know,” said Burns, with -emphasis.</p> - -<p>“No more than you do.”</p> - -<p>“I do it to save life.”</p> - -<p>“And what do I do it for?” The question came back -like a shot, with stinging emphasis and challenge.</p> - -<p>The two pairs of eyes continued to meet clashingly, and -for a minute neither would give way. Then Red said, -with a rather grudging admission, “I know you think you -have to do all these extras, and you do them with intent -and purpose, and willingly, at that. But I don’t back -down on my proposition—that you’re working harder at -it than is necessary. I’ll admit I want you to do what you -can for Cary Ray—for his sister’s sake. But when it -comes to the DuBoises, and the Corrigans, and the Andersons—why -should you spend yourself on them—ungrateful beggars?”</p> - -<p>“I can only ask you, Doctor, why you spend yourself -on the Wellands and the Kalanskys, and the Kellys?”</p> - -<p>Suddenly Red’s attitude changed, with one of those -characteristic quick shifts which made him such delightful -company. He looked at his watch and sat down on the -log again. “Six minutes to stay, and then back to that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[132]</span> -blamed committee meeting for yours, and back to my -office for me—I can see ten people sitting there now, in my -mind’s eye. Hang it—why can’t a fellow stay in the open -when it’s there he can be at his best, physically and -mentally?”</p> - -<p>“It seems to make you a bit pugilistic!”</p> - -<p>Red looked up, laughing. “How about you? For a -parson it strikes me you can fight back with both fists.”</p> - -<p>“Doctor—let’s have that wrestle now! I’d like it to -remember.”</p> - -<p>“You would, would you? Hold on—don’t take off your -coat. I know better than to play tricks with my digestion -like that, if you don’t. You’re younger than I—you -might get away with it. But—I’ll give you that tussle -some day you’re so anxious for.”</p> - -<p>“Meanwhile—I wish you’d give me something else.”</p> - -<p>“What’s that?” Red was instantly on his guard—Black -could see that clearly. He had expected it. But -it did not deter him from saying the thing he wanted to -say.</p> - -<p>“Shake hands with me. Did you know you never -have?”</p> - -<p>“Never have!”</p> - -<p>“Not the way I want you to. I’m asking you now to -shake hands with my profession. I’m tired of having you -against it. I ask you to give it fair play in your mind. -You admit that it’s worth while for you to spend the last -drop you have for human life. But it’s wasting good red -blood for a man to spend his for human souls. Do you -mean it? Ah, Doctor Burns, you don’t. Tell me so—the -way I want you to.”</p> - -<p>The suspicion dropped out of Red’s eyes, but into them -came something else—the showing of a dogged human will.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[133]</span> -He stood looking into the fire, his hands in his pockets—where -they had been for some time. He made no motion -to withdraw them. Black’s hands were clasped behind -him—he made no motion to extend them. A long silence -succeeded—or long it seemed to Black, at least. Had -he lost his case? He had never thought to state it thus -to Red—but when the moment came it had seemed to -him he could do no otherwise.... His heart beat -rather heavily.... How was Red going to take it?</p> - -<p>The red-headed surgeon looked up at last. “Do you -mean you want me to shake hands with your entire profession—all -the men in it?”</p> - -<p>“Are there no charlatans in medicine? But <i>you</i>—are -the real thing. I wouldn’t deny you a handshake—if -you wanted it.”</p> - -<p>Slowly Red drew his right hand out of his pocket. -“You want this tribute—to you, as a minister?”</p> - -<p>Then Black’s eyes flamed. He took a step backward. -“I want no ‘tribute,’ Doctor,—my heaven!—you don’t -think that! All I want is—to know that—as a minister -you can shake hands with me and believe—that I’m as real -as I know you to be. If you can’t do that——” he turned -aside. “Oh, never mind! I didn’t mean to try to force -it from you. Let’s be off. It must be high time, and -it’s more than high time if——”</p> - -<p>A hand fell on his shoulder and stayed there. Another -hand found his and gripped it tight. “Oh, come along. -Bob Black!” said a gruff voice with yet a ring in it. -“You’re the realest chap I know. And I’ve tried my -darned best not to like you—and I can’t get away with -it. <i>Now</i>—are you satisfied?”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[134]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER IX<br /> - - -<small>“BURN, FIRE, BURN!”</small></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">“SIS, I’ll stump you to go to church with me this -morning!”</p> - -<p>It may have been rather a peculiar form of invitation to -attend upon the service of the sanctuary, but that was not -the reason for the startled expression on Jane Ray’s face. -She simply couldn’t believe that it was her brother Cary -who was making the proposal. Church!—when had Cary -ever gone to any church whatever?—unless it might have -been for the purpose of gathering material for some brilliant, -ironic article with which to do his share in that old -fight of the world against the forms of religion. As for herself—it -had long been her custom to employ her Sunday -mornings in making up her business accounts for the week.</p> - -<p>Her reply was a parry. “What church would you -suggest going to?”</p> - -<p>Cary’s glance at her was both sharp and whimsical. “Is -there more than one? According to what I hear, the ‘Stone -Church,’ as they call it, is the one where the town is flocking -to hear our friend, the fighting parson, say things that -stop the breath. I understand his trustees are mostly -pacifists. It must grind ’em like fun to hear their Scotsman -firing his machine-gun, regardless. I admit I want to -be in on it. I think this country’s going to get into it before -long, and when it does I expect to see Robert Black -off like a shot for some place where pacifists are unpopular.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[135]</span>“He has never asked us to come to his church,” Jane -temporized.</p> - -<p>“No. That’s why I want to go. I’ve been waiting -all this while to have him ask me, so I could turn him down. -But he never has, so, being quite human, I’m piqued into -going on my own motion. Come along, Sis. I’ll guarantee -if an old sinner like me can stand the gaff, a young -saint like you will be in her element.”</p> - -<p>Jane gave him a sparkling smile. “Very well, Cary -Ray. It will be your fault if we feel like fish very much -out of water and don’t know how to act. I haven’t been -in a church in at least three years.”</p> - -<p>“The more shame to you. Most of them are mighty -comfortable places in which to sit and pursue your own -train of thought, and on that ground alone you should be -a constant attendant. Though I doubt very much if -we are able to pursue any train of thought, within hearing -of R. Black, except the one he chooses to put up to us. -The more I’ve seen of him the more I’ve discovered of his -little tendency to keep one occupied with him exclusively. -Well, if you’ll go I’ll have a clean shave and look up my -best gloves. We’ll give him a bit of a surprise. To tell the -truth, I’m beginning to think we owe it to him.”</p> - -<p>There could be small doubt of this. In the three -months which had intervened between Cary Ray’s arrival—for -all hope there seemed of him, both physically and morally -down and out—Robert Black had stood steadily by -him. His comradeship had been a direct challenge to -Cary’s better self, and all that was good in the young man—and -there was undoubtedly very much—had rallied -to meet the sturdy beckoning of this new friend. At an -early date the two had discovered that, different as they -were in character, they had one thing mightily in common—the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[136]</span> -delights and tortures of the creative brain. Jane -had called Cary a genius, and so he was—perhaps in the -lesser and more commonly used meaning of the too much -used word. His articles on any theme were always welcomed -in certain of the best newspaper and magazine -offices, and only his lack of dependability and his erratic -ways of working had kept him from rapid advancement -in his world.</p> - -<p>Black, discovering almost at once that he had to deal -with a brain which, if it could be freed from the handicap -of dissipation, would be capable of production worth any -effort to salvage from the threatened wreck, had thrown -himself, heart and soul, into winning Cary’s friendship on -the ground of their common interest and understanding. -To do this he had used every particle of skill he possessed, -and his reward had been the knowledge of the steadily -lengthening periods of Cary’s reasonableness and his response -to the stimulus which will always be greater than -almost any other—the demand of a friend who cares that -we live up to his belief in us. Cary had come to think -of Robert Black as the best friend he had in the world, -after his sister, and to look forward to the hours the two -spent together as the brightest spots in a life which had -become dimmed at an age when it should have known its -fullest zest.</p> - -<p>Thus it came about that Robert Black, entering his -pulpit that Sunday morning, and presently taking estimate -of his congregation, as a preacher must do if he is to know -how to aim accurately and fire straight, caught sight of -two people whose presence before him gave him a distinct -shock of surprise. He had been sure he would some time -get that shock, but it had been long delayed, and he had -rather doggedly persisted in withholding the direct invitation,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[137]</span> -reasoning with himself that he would rather have -Jane and Cary come for any other reason than the paying -of the debt he knew they must feel they owed him.</p> - -<p>And now they were there before him—rather near him, -too. Young Perkins, one of the ushers for the middle -aisle, had pounced on them as a pair who would do credit -to his natural desire to have all the best dressed and most -distinguished looking strangers placed where they would -do the most good to the personnel of the congregation. -He knew Jane for what he called “a stunner,” thereby -paying youthful tribute to her looks and quiet perfection -of dress. As for Cary, one glance of appraisal had placed -him, for Perkins, in the class of the “classy,” than which -there is no greater compliment in the vocabulary of the -Perkinses. Therefore it was that Perkins, leading Jane -and Cary down the middle aisle, had complacently slipped -them into the pew of one of the leading members—to-day -out of town, as he knew—and thus had left them within -exceedingly close range of whatever gunfire might be at -the command of the pulpit. Perkins, having hurriedly -scanned the headlines of the morning papers, had a hunch -that it was going to be one of those mornings when the -congregation would be likely to leave the church with -its hair a trifle rampant on its brow from excited thrustings—or -with its hats a little askew from agitated noddings -or shakings. He had come to look forward to such Sundays -with increasing zest. There was something else to -stake quarters on with the other ushers, these days, than -on how late Doctor Burns was going to be at church, or -how short a time he would be permitted to remain there. -Perkins was beginning to wonder how he had ever endured -the dull times of Black’s immediate predecessor; certainly -he was rejoicing that they were over.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[138]</span>Frances Fitch, in the Lockhart pew, just across the -aisle and two rows behind Jane and Cary, found the pair -a particularly interesting study. Through Tom she had -heard much of Cary; she had caught only unsatisfying -glimpses before. As he sat at the end of the pew nearest -the aisle she had a full view of that profile which had first -assured Black that Cary was indeed Jane’s brother, and -it now struck Miss Fitch as one of the most attractive -masculine outlines she had ever seen. Cary was still -distinctly pale, but his pallor was becoming more healthy -with each succeeding day of Jane’s skillful feeding, and his -manner had lost its excessive nervousness. To the eye, -by now, he merely looked the interesting convalescent -from a possibly severe illness, with every probability of a -complete return to full fitness of body. As to his mind—one -glance at him could hardly help suggesting to the intelligent -observer that here was a young man who possessed -brains trained to the point of acuteness and efficiency in -whatever lines they might be employed.</p> - -<p>To look at either Cary or Jane, moreover, one would -hardly have said that church was to them so unaccustomed -a place. Jane, sitting or rising with the rest, sharing -hymn-book or printed leaf of the responsive service with -her brother, appeared the most decorous of regular communicants. -For herself, however, she was experiencing -many curious reactions, the most distinct of which, -throughout the preliminary service, was caused by the -sight of Robert McPherson Black, in his gown, and with -the high gravity upon him which she had never before -seen in precisely its present quality. Could this be the -spirited young man who came so often to spend an hour -with Cary, his face and manner full of a winning gayety -or of an equally winning vigour of speech and action?<span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[139]</span> -This was another being indeed who confronted her, a -being removed from her as by a great gulf fixed, his fine -eyes by no chance meeting hers, his voice by no means -addressed to her, but to the remotest person in his audience, -far back under the gallery. For the first time Jane -Ray was realizing that well as it had seemed to her that -she had come to know the man Black, she actually knew -him hardly at all, for here, in this place to her so unfamiliar, -was his real home!</p> - -<p>And then, very soon came an equally strong reaction -from this first impression of remoteness. For, the moment -the anthems and the responses and the rest of the -preliminary service was over, and Black had been for -three minutes upon his feet in his office of preacher, the -whole situation was reversed. No longer did he seem to -be sending that trained and reverent voice of his to every -quarter of the large, hushed audience room; but in a new -and arresting way he was addressing Jane Ray very directly, -he was speaking straight to her, and she had quite -forgotten that there was any one else there to hear. If -this impression of hers was precisely like that which -reached each person within sound of his voice who possessed -the intelligence to listen, that was nothing to her—nor -to them. The simple fact was that when Robert -Black spoke to an audience as from his very first word -he was speaking now, that audience had no choice but -to listen, and it listened as individuals, with each of whom -he was intimately concerned.</p> - -<p>As for Cary Ray—perhaps there was nobody in that -whole audience so well qualified to measure the speaker’s -ability and power as he. He had spent no small portion -of his early after-college days in reporting for a great city -daily, and his assignment very often had been the following<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[140]</span> -up of one noted speaker after another. He had listened -to eloquence of all sorts, spurious and real; had come to -be a judge of quality in human speech in all its ramifications; -was by now himself a literary critic of no inferior -sort. His mind, at its best—and it was not far short of -its best on this Sunday morning—was keen and clear. As -he gave himself up to Black as one gives himself up to a -friend who is setting before him a matter of import, he was -a hearer of the sort whom speakers would go far to find.</p> - -<p>Did Black know this? Unquestionably he did. He -knew also that Red was in his audience this morning, and -Jane Ray, and Nan Lockhart, and Fanny Fitch, and -many another, and that every last one of them was listening -as almost never before. How could they help but -hear, when he was saying to them that which challenged -their attention as he was challenging it now?</p> - -<p>This was in February, nineteen seventeen. Diplomatic -relations with Germany had been severed; America was -on the brink of war. One tremendous question was engaging -the whole country: was it America’s duty to go -into war? Was it her necessity? Was it—and here a few -voices were rising loud and clear—was it not only her -necessity and her duty—was it her privilege?</p> - -<p>No doubt where Robert Black stood. It was America’s -privilege, the acceptance of which had been already too -long postponed. In no uncertain terms he made his conviction -clear. The blood baptism which was purifying -the souls of other countries must be ours as well, or never -again could we be clean. To save our souls—to save our -souls—that was his plea!</p> - -<p>“Oh, I wish,” he cried out suddenly toward the end, -“I wish I had the dramatic power to set the thing before -you so that you might see it as you see a convincing play<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[141]</span> -upon a stage. Never a human drama like this one—and -we—are sitting in the boxes! Bathed and clean clothed -and gloved—gloved—we are sitting in the boxes and looking -on—and applauding now and then—as loudly as we -may, wearing gloves! And over there—their hands are -torn and bleeding with wounds—while we delay—and -delay—and delay!”</p> - -<p>Down in the pew before him Cary Ray suddenly -clenched his fists. His arms had been folded—<i>his</i> hands -were gloved. Gloved hands could clench then! Into -his brain—now afire with Black’s own fire, as it had been -more than once before now as the two talked war together—but -never as now—never as now—there sprang -an idea, glowing with life. His writer’s instinct leaped -at it, turned it inside out and back again, saw it through -to its ultimate effort—and never once lost track of Black’s -closing words, or missed a phrase of the brief prayer that -followed, a prayer that seemed to rise visibly from the -altar, so burning were the words of it. Cary rose from his -seat, a man illumined with a purpose.</p> - -<p>Up the aisle he felt Red’s hand upon his arm. Those -orders to the usher not to call the red-headed doctor out -for anything but an emergency had been regularly in -force of late. Astonishingly often was the once absentee -now able to make connections with his pew, at least in -time for the sermon. To his friend Macauley, who now -and then let loose jeering comments upon the subject of -his change of ways, he was frank to admit that it did make -a difference in the drawing power of the church whether -the man in the pulpit could aim only soft and futile blows, -or whether he could hit straight and fast and hard. “And -whether,” Red added once, bluntly, “you happen to -know that he practises precisely what he preaches.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[142]</span>In Cary’s ear Red now said incisively: “What are you -betting that sermon will cost him half his congregation?”</p> - -<p>Cary turned, his dark eyes afire. “If it does, we’ll fill -it up with vagrants like me. My lord, that was hot stuff! -And this is the first time I’ve heard him—more fool I. -Why didn’t you let a fellow know?”</p> - -<p>Red laughed rather ruefully. “Cary,” he said, “it’s -astonishing how we do go on entertaining angels unawares. -But when we get one with a flaming sword, like this one, -we’re just as liable to cut and run as to stay by and get -our own hands on a hilt somewhere.”</p> - -<p>“I’ve got mine on one, I promise you,” murmured Cary. -His one idea now was to reach home and lay his hand -upon it. If, to him, his fountain pen was the trustiest -sword in his arsenal, let none disparage that mighty -weapon. In his hands, if those hands remained steady, -it might in time do some slashing through obstacles.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>It was just three days later that Jane Ray, coming in -from the shop, saw Cary sling that pen—hurriedly capped -for the purpose—clear across the table, at which for those -three days he had been writing almost steadily. He threw -up his arms in a gesture of mingled fatigue and triumph.</p> - -<p>“Janey,” he said, “I want you to send for Robert Black, -and Doctor and Mrs. Burns, and your friend Miss Lockhart—you -told me she wrote plays at college, didn’t you?—and -her friend, Miss Fitch, the raving beauty who acts—probably -acts all the time, but none the worse for that, -for my purpose. Also, Tommy Lockhart. I want ’em -all, and I want ’em quick. I can’t sleep till I’ve had ’em -here to listen to what I’ve done. And now—if I weren’t -under your roof, and if I didn’t care such a blamed lot -about not letting Black down—I’d go out and take a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[143]</span> -drink. Oh, don’t worry—I won’t—not just yet, anyhow. -I’ll go out and take a walk instead. My head’s on -fire and my feet are two chunks from the North Pole.”</p> - -<p>Happier than she had been for a long time, her hopes -for her brother rising higher than they had yet dared to -rise, in spite of all the encouragement his improvement -had given her, Jane made haste to summon these people -whose presence he had demanded. They came on short -notice; even Red, who said at first that he couldn’t make -it by any possible chance, electrified them all and made -Cary’s pale cheek glow with satisfaction when at the last -minute he appeared.</p> - -<p>“Confound you, who are you to interfere with my -schedule?” Red growled, as he shook hands. “I was due -at a Medical Society Meeting, where I was booked as -leader of a discussion. They’ll discuss the thing to tatters -without me, while I could have rounded ’em up and -driven ’em into the corral with one big discovery that -they’re not onto yet.”</p> - -<p>“Mighty sorry, Doctor. But, you see, I had to have -you.” Cary grinned at him impudently. “I’ve been -raving crazy for three days and nights, and if I can’t call -in medical aid on the strength of that—— Oh, I know -I’m mighty presumptuous, but—well—listen, and I’ll try -to justify myself.”</p> - -<p>They listened for an hour. They could hardly help -it. As a down-and-outer Cary Ray had been an object of -solicitude and sympathy; as a clever, forceful, intensely -yet restrainedly dramatic playwright, he was a person to -astonish and take his new acquaintances off their feet. -Stirred as he had been, gripped by the big idea Black had -unknowingly put into his head, he had gone at this task -as he had time and again gone at a difficult piece of newspaper<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[144]</span> -work. With every faculty alert, every sense of the -dramatic possibilities of the conception stringing him to -a tension, his thoughts thronging, his language fluid, his -whole being had been sharpened into an instrument which -his brain, the master, might command to powerful purpose. -Thus had he written the one-act war play which was to -fire the imagination, enlist the sympathies, capture the -hearts of thousands of those who later saw it put upon -the vaudeville circuit, where its influence, cumulative as -the fame of it spread and the press comments grew in -wonder and praise, was accountable for many a patriotic -word and act which otherwise never had been born.</p> - -<p>But now—he was reading it for the first time to this -little audience of chosen people, “trying it out on them,” -as the phrase ran in his own mind. He had no possible -doubt of its reception. His own judgment, trained to -pass upon his own performance with as critical a sureness -as upon that of any other man, told him that he had done a -remarkable piece of work. To him it was ancient history -that when he could write as he had written now, with -neither let nor hindrance to the full use of his powers, it -followed as the night the day that his editors would put -down the sheets with that grim smile with which they -were wont to accept the best a man could do, nod at him, -possibly say: “Great stuff, Ray,”—and brag about it -afterward where he could not hear.</p> - -<p>To-night, when he laid down the last sheet and got up -to stroll over to a shadowy corner and get rid of his own -overwrought emotion as best he might, he understood -that the silence which succeeded the reading was his -listeners’ first and deepest tribute to his art. His climax -had been tremendous, led up to by every least word and -indicated action that had gone before, the finished product<span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[145]</span> -of a nearly perfect craftsmanship. Small wonder that -for a long minute nobody found voice to express the -moved and shaken condition in which each found himself.</p> - -<p>But when it did come, there was nothing wanting. If -they were glad beyond measure, these people, that they -could honestly approve the work of this brother of Jane’s, -this was but a small part of the feeling which now had its -strong hold upon them. Wonder, delight, eagerness to -see the little drama glow like a jewel upon the stage—these -were what brought words to the tongue at length. -And then—plans!</p> - -<p>“We can’t get it on too quick,” was Red’s instant decision. -“It must be done here first, and then turned loose -on the circuit. We can handle it. Nan Lockhart can -help you get it up, Cary—and take the part of the Englishwoman, -too. Of course Miss Fitch must do the French -actress—she’s cut out for that. I’m inclined to think -my wife would make the best Belgian mother. Tom can -be the wounded young poilu, and you, Ray—will be the -French officer to the life. As for the rest—we have plenty -of decidedly clever young actors who will be equal to the -minor parts.”</p> - -<p>There was a general laugh. “I seem to see the footlights -turned on already,” Cary declared. “But that’s -not a bad assignment. Would you—” he turned to -Black—“I wonder if you would take the part of the -American surgeon.”</p> - -<p>Now this was a great part, if a small one as to actual -lines. Every eye turned to the minister. Fit the part—with -that fine, candid face, those intent eyes? No doubt -that he did. But he shook his head with decision.</p> - -<p>“I’d do much for you, Ray,” he said, “but not that. -It’s not possible for me to take a part. I’ve a real reason,”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[146]</span> -as Cary’s lips opened, “so don’t try to persuade -me. But I’ll help in every way I can. And as for the -surgeon—why not take the one at hand?” And he indicated -Burns himself.</p> - -<p>“I’ll <i>do</i> it!” announced Red, most unexpectedly.</p> - -<p>They spent a fascinated hour discussing the characters -and who could do them full justice. There was nobody -to see, but if there had been a disinterested onlooker, he -might have said to himself that here was a group of people -who of themselves were playing out a little drama of their -own, each quite unconsciously taking a significant part. -There was R. P. Burns, M.D.—his red head and vigorous -personality more or less dominating the scene. There was -Ellen Burns, his wife—dark-eyed, serene, highly intelligent -in the occasional suggestions she made, but mostly allowing -others to talk while she listened with that effect of -deep interest which made her so charming to everyone. -There was Nan Lockhart, quick of wit and eager to bring -all her past training to bear on the situation, her bright -smile or her quizzical frown registering approval or criticism. -There was Fanny Fitch, radiant with delight in the -prospects opening before her, her eyes starry, her face -repeating the rose-leaf hues of the scarf she wore within -her sumptuous dark cape of fur—somehow Miss Fitch’s -skillful dressing always gave a point of light and colour -for the eye to rest gratifiedly upon. Then there was -Robert Black, rather quiet to-night, but none the less -a person to be decidedly taken into account, as was -quite unconsciously proved by the eyes which turned his -way whenever he broke his silence with question or suggestion. -There was Tom Lockhart, somehow reminding -one of a well-trained puppy endeavouring to maintain his -dignity while bursting to make mischief; his impish glance<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[147]</span> -resting on one face after another, his gay young speech -occasionally causing everybody’s gravity to break down—as -when he solemnly declared that unless he himself were -allowed to play some austerely exalted part yet to be -written into the play he would go home and never come -back. There was Jane Ray, who sat next Tom, and who -somehow looked to-night as young as he—younger, even, -than Miss Fitch, whose elegance of attire contrasted curiously -with Jane’s plain little dark-blue frock. Jane’s brunette -beauty was deeply enhanced to-night by her warm -colour and her brilliant smile; her sparkling eyes as she -watched her brother gave everybody the impression that -she was gloriously happy—as indeed she was. For was -not Cary——</p> - -<p>Cary himself was probably the figure in the room which, -if this little scene had been actually part of a drama, would -have become the focus of the audience’s absorption. Interesting -as they were, the other actors only contributed -to his success—he was the centre of the stage. Dark, -lithe, his excitement showing only in his flashing eyes, -his manner cool, controlled—he was the picture of an actor -himself. He was keenly aware that the tables had suddenly -been turned, and that from being a mysterious sort -of invalid, Jane’s ne’er-do-well brother, he had emerged -in an hour. He had gathered a wreath of laurels and set -it upon his own brow, and was now challenging them all -to say if he had not a place in the world after all, could -not claim it by right of his amazing ability, could not ask -to be forgiven all his sins in view of his dazzling exhibition -of an art nobody had realized he possessed. Undeniably -this was Cary’s hour, and Jane, being only human, -and loving him very much, was daring to believe once -again that her brother was redeemed to her. It may<span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[148]</span> -not be wondered at that now and again her eyes rested -gratefully upon the two men who had done this thing for -Cary—and for her. She knew that they must be rejoicing, -too.</p> - -<p>It was, therefore, something of a shock to her when -from Robert Black, before they left, she had a low-toned -warning. “Miss Ray—” Black had chosen his opportunity -carefully; for the moment the two were well apart -from the rest—“I don’t dare not tell you to look out -for him to-night. After we are gone, and he is alone, -there will come an hour of—well—he will be more vulnerable -than he has been for a month. Don’t let him slip -away—see him safely relaxed and asleep.”</p> - -<p>Jane’s expression was incredulous. “Oh, not to-night, -when he is so proud and happy—so glad to have you all -his friends, and to show you at last that he is your equal in—so -many ways.”</p> - -<p>He nodded gravely: “Believe me, I know what I’m -saying. It’s a bit of an intoxication in itself, this reaction -from his long languor of mind. He’s done a magnificent -thing, and he’s now in very great danger. Don’t allow -yourself to minimize it.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, you’re very good!” Jane’s tone was a little impatient, -in spite of herself. “But you do misjudge him—to-night. -Why, he’s just his old self—as you’ve never -known him. Of course, I’ll stay by him—and I understand. -But—his temptation has always been when he -was blue and unhappy, not when he was on the top wave -of joy, as he is to-night—as he deserves to be——” Her -voice broke a little, she turned away. She herself was -keyed higher than she knew; she simply couldn’t bear to -have Robert Black, or anybody else, distrust Cary to-night—dear, -wonderful Cary, with his shining eyes and his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[149]</span> -adorable smile, her beloved brother and his genius both -restored to her.</p> - -<p>Black’s low voice came after her: “I’m sorry—I didn’t -mean to hurt your happiness to-night, of all nights. I -only—want you to take care of him as——”</p> - -<p>But she was off, back to her guests, cutting him short, -with only a nod and half smile back at him, which showed -him that she thought him wrong—and a little cruel, too.</p> - -<p>She was surer than ever that he had been mistaken when -they were all gone, their congratulations on Cary’s work -still ringing in her ears. He threw himself upon the couch -with a long laughing breath and a prolonged stretch of the -arms. “Smoke and ashes, but I’m tired!” he declared. -“I’ll stop and chin with you about ten minutes, and then -it’s me for bed.”</p> - -<p>He seemed hardly to listen while she told him how she -felt about his work and the evening, how she knew they -all felt. She could see that he was all at once very sleepy -and exhausted, and when, before the ten minutes were -barely up, he rose and stumbled across the room, declaring -that he couldn’t hold out another second, she smiled to -herself as she put her arm on his shoulder and insisted on -his good-night kiss. He had to cut a yawn in two to give -it to her. This tired boy in any danger? Hardly! If -he had still been excited and overstrung she might have -had fears for him, but now—why, he would be asleep before -he could get his clothes off—that was what was most -likely to happen, after these three days and nights of consuming -labour. She would look in, by and by, and make -sure that, as in his boyish days, he had not thrown himself -across the bed without undressing at all, and gone off into -a deep slumber from which her sisterly ministrations would -not wake him.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[150]</span>She never knew what actually happened that night. -She was a long time herself in making ready for bed, and -so busy were her thoughts that for an hour she quite forgot -her resolve to make sure of Cary’s safety. Then, just to -prove that Black was unreasonable in his fears, she went -to Cary’s door, opened it very gently, and saw in the bed -his motionless figure, evidently in as deep a sleep as any -one could wish. She went back to her own room with -a curious sense of injury upon her. Why had the minister -tried to alarm her when there was so little need? Hadn’t -she had anxious hours enough?</p> - -<p>Within a quarter of an hour the door of the shop very -softly opened, and Cary Ray let himself out into the silent -little street. His coat-collar was up, his hat pulled over -his eyes; he stole away on noiseless feet. If Jane could -have seen then the eyes beneath that sheltering hat-brim -she would have understood. Sleep? They had never -been farther from it, so glitteringly sleepless were they.</p> - -<p>But Robert Black saw those eyes—and he had already -understood. As Cary slipped round the corner he ran -straight into a tall figure coming his way. With a low -exclamation of dismay he would have rushed by and away, -but Black wheeled and was at his side, walking with him.</p> - -<p>“Out for a walk, Ray?” said the low, friendly voice he -had come to know so well. “I know how that is—I’ve -often done it myself. Nothing like the crisp night air for -taking that boiling blood out of a fellow’s brain and sending -it over his body, where it belongs. May I walk with -you? I’m still abnormally keyed-up myself over that -play of yours. No wonder you can’t settle to sleep.”</p> - -<p>Well, Cary couldn’t get away, and he knew he couldn’t. -As well try to escape an officer’s handcuff if he had been -caught stealing as that kind, inexorable offer of comradeship<span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[151]</span> -through his temptation. He knew Black well enough -by now to know that his standing by meant that he simply -wouldn’t let Cary’s temptation have a chance—it might -as well slink away and leave him, for it couldn’t get to -him past Robert Black’s defense.</p> - -<p>Quite possibly neither of these two ever could have told -how many miles they walked that icy winter’s night, but -walk they did till every drop of Cary’s hot blood was -rushing healthily through his weary body, and the fires -in his brain had died the death they must inevitably die -under such treatment. They walked in silence for the -most part. Cary wasn’t angry, even at the first—he was -ashamed, disappointed—but not angry. How could he -be really angry with a man who loved him enough for this? -And, deep down in his heart, presently he was glad—glad -to be saved from himself. Was it for the man who -had written that splendid play to take it out in the old -degradation; was it for him who had made Truth shine in -an embodiment of loveliness to drag its creator in the -mire on this same night that his friends had looked upon -his work and declared that it was good? When at last he -stumbled wearily along the little street again, with a stumbling -that was no feigning this time but the genuine sign -of a fatigue so overpowering that sleep was almost on -its heels, he was thankful to this strange and comprehending -friend as he had never been thankful to him before.</p> - -<p>“Good-night, Ray,” said Robert Black, at the shop -door, and under the street-light Cary saw the smile that -had come to mean more to him to-night than it ever had -before—and it had meant much already.</p> - -<p>“Do you trust me now?” Cary met the dark eyes -straightforwardly at last.</p> - -<p>“Absolutely. I trusted <i>you</i> before. It was the over-strained<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[152]</span> -nerves and brain I was anxious for, because I’ve -had them many a time myself. They’re hard to manage. -Taking them to walk is just good medicine, that’s all. -You’ll sleep like a top, now.”</p> - -<p>“And you’re sure I won’t slide out, when you’re gone?”</p> - -<p>Black’s hand gripped Cary’s. “I’d stake my life on it.”</p> - -<p>Cary choked a little as he returned the grip. “You -don’t need to. I’d prefer to stake mine.” Then he bolted, -and the shop door closed behind him.</p> - -<p>Black looked up at the wide-open window over the shop -he knew was Jane’s. “Sleep well, my friend,” he was -thinking. “I told you I’d stand by you—to the limit.”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[153]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER X<br /> - - -<small>A SHIFTING OF HONOURS</small></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">TOM LOCKHART emerged from the stage dressing-room -in the uniform of a French soldier, his face made -up with paint and powder and crayon to indicate that he -was in the final stages of suffering from gunshot wounds. -His head was bandaged, his clothes were torn, but he gave -the lie to these signs of disaster by dashing up the stairs -and into the wings of the stage with the lusty action of -perfect health and a great zest for his part.</p> - -<p>Behind the big curtain he found all the actors in Cary’s -play assembled—except one. The star—everybody had -taken to calling Fanny Fitch the star throughout the rehearsals—was -still missing, quite after the manner of stars. -It was yet early, and the audience in front was but half -assembled, but Cary had laid great stress upon everybody’s -being ready and in the wings before the curtain -should rise. He had small faith in amateur call boys and -prompters, and the action of the play was to take place -so rapidly that nobody could be permitted to linger in a -dressing-room once the piece was on.</p> - -<p>Cary greeted Tom as a laggard. Cary himself was a -French officer—and looked the part to the life; but he was -also a stage manager of martinet qualities.</p> - -<p>“About time, you boy! Where’s Miss Fitch? Go -back and get her. Hustle!” The whisper hissed above -the tuning of the orchestra.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[154]</span>Tom sped back downstairs. Red Pepper Burns, in the -dress of an operating surgeon soiled and gory, his face made -up to show lines of fatigue, commented in Nan Lockhart’s -ear: “Trust Fanny to play the part off stage as well as -on. Presume she’s reckoning on holding everything up -till she gets here?”</p> - -<p>Nan frowned. “You never do her justice, Doctor -Burns. Fanny’s a born actress, why shouldn’t she have -the little sins of one? But she’s going to surprise you to-night. -She really can act, you know. She’s been only -walking through rehearsals.”</p> - -<p>“All right—but she’ll have to get a lot more punch into -her work than I can believe her capable of. Speaking -of punch—I haven’t much left myself to-night,” growled -Red. The fatigue suggested by the lines upon his face -had been easy to lay on, by the make-up man downstairs, -who had had only to intensify those already there. As -might easily have been prophesied by those who knew his -life intimately, Red had just had a week of infernally hard -work in the operating room, and was much fitter for a good -night’s sleep than for playing the part of a first line -surgeon on the French front.</p> - -<p>Robert Black, in the wings, was keeping in order a little -group of children who were representing Belgian orphans—protégés -of an Englishwoman who had come to France -to help look after the refugees. Nan Lockhart had this -part; it fitted her beautifully. Jane Ray was the Red -Cross nurse in charge at the clearing station; her white -uniform and glowing red veil brought out her dusky beauty -of colouring strikingly. Three young American ambulance -drivers—of whom Harry Perkins, the young usher at -the Stone Church, was one—stood together in the wings, -commenting favourably upon Miss Ray. Altogether, no<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[155]</span> -body was really doing anything but waiting when Tom -Lockhart, grinning joyously through his queerly contrasting -pallid make-up, at last followed Fanny Fitch upon -the stage.</p> - -<p>She had refused to dress for the dress rehearsal of the -preceding evening, explaining that her costume was as yet -in the making. She had, quite as Nan had said, “walked -through” her part and rather languidly, at that, in the -street attire in which she had come to the little theatre -which was the suburban town’s pride. So now, quite -suddenly and startlingly, appeared to the view of her -fellow actors the French actress of music-hall fame whom -Fanny was to represent in the part which Cary, the moment -he had set eyes upon her—and, he might have added, -found her eyes upon him—had declared would fit her like -a glove. As Red and Ellen and Cary Ray and Robert -Black now beheld the dazzling figure before them, there -could be no question in their minds that if Miss Fitch -could act the part as she now looked it, there would be -nothing left to be desired. As for young Tommy Lockhart, -he was clearly quite out of his head with a crazy -admiration which he did not even attempt to disguise. -What was the use? And must not all men be one with -him in adoring this radiant creature?</p> - -<p>Fanny was a vision—there’s no use denying it. All -that fairness of feature and provocation of eye enhanced -by the cleverest art of the make-up box, and set off by -daring line and colour of gown, could do to make her wondrous -to look upon, had been achieved. All that a deep -excitement, a complete confidence in what her mirror had -told her, a surety of at least a measure of real histrionic -power, could give in aid of the finished effect, was there. -But as she came very quietly upon the stage there was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[156]</span> -nothing at all in her bearing to indicate that she thought -herself a form of delight, rather did she suggest that she -was dreading her difficult rôle, and not at all confident -that she could hope even to please the eye. Tom, indeed, -could have sworn that this was so. Had he not held a -brief but satisfying dialogue with her on the way upstairs?</p> - -<p>“Oh, Tom!” she had called, “is it really time to go on? -I’m so frightened! Do you suppose I can ever do it as -Mr. Ray wants it done?”</p> - -<p>Tom, gazing his eyes out at her lovely shoulders, as she -preceded him along the narrow corridor to the stairs, -keeping her scarlet silken skirts well away from the walls—he -helped her solicitously in that—answered in eager assurance: -“Why, of course you can! And—my word!—looking -at you would be enough, if you couldn’t act at all. -My word! I never <i>saw</i> you——”</p> - -<p>“Oh, but Tom, <i>looking</i> a part is nothing—and I’m not -even sure I can do that. But <i>acting</i> it! That’s another -story. And you’re so wonderful in yours——”</p> - -<p>“Me? Why, I just have to die! That’s easy!”</p> - -<p>“But you do it so realistically—you’re absolutely true -to life. When I bend over you—yes, I do feel that you’re -actually my brother, and my heart—— Well, if that can -help, you do help me. And I’ll do my best. But—I’m -simply scared to pieces. Feel my hand, it’s freezing!” -She stretched back one bare arm, and Tom willingly caught -her hand in his. His own was so cold it is doubtful if he -could have detected chill in hers, but he held it fast, chafing -it in both his own, and murmuring tenderly: “You’ll -be all right, I know you will. Why, you’ll have the audience -from the minute you go on—they can’t get away -from you—any more than I can!” The last was a whisper.</p> - -<p>Fanny turned. They were at the top of the stairway<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[157]</span> -now, with the wings close at hand. “Tom, tell me! Do -you really think I can do it? Will you just keep thinking -about me every minute while you’re lying there?” She -pressed one hand over her heart with a little gesture of fear -which simply finished Tom. “Oh, if it <i>would</i> stop beating -so fast——”</p> - -<p>Tom slipped his arm about her shoulders. “Don’t -be afraid, dear,” was what he began to say. But she -was away from him in an instant, and he could only recall -with tingling pulses that instant’s touch in which at least -two of his fingers had come into fleeting contact with the -satiny bare arm. The next minute he had rallied and -rushed after her upon the stage, to watch with a jealous -pleasure the looks which fell upon her from all sides.</p> - -<p>At sight of the “star” Cary Ray came forward. All he -said was, “I’m mighty glad you’re here, Miss Fitch. -Real actresses never can be depended upon, you know—and -you certainly look temperamental enough to give -your stage manager some trouble!” But his eyes and his -smile said that he was well satisfied with her as a member -of his caste, and that as a girl of his acquaintance he was -immensely glad he knew her. There was promise in -Cary’s look as well. All Fanny had to do now was to play -that part as she knew she could play it, and Cary Ray -would fall before her. Going out to take a drink, after -the play should be over—the thing he would naturally -want most to do—would pale into insignificance before -the stimulus she could offer him, if she but let him take -her home and come in for an hour’s talk and coffee by the -fire.</p> - -<p>But Tom Lockhart and Cary Ray were not the stakes -for which Fanny Fitch meant to play that night. There -was a tall figure in the wings of which she was well aware,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[158]</span> -and though she did not look toward it she was very sure -that Robert Black was watching her. How, indeed, could -he do anything else? Belgian orphans, ambulance drivers, -French officers, Englishwomen, Red Cross nurses—how -could they all be anything but a background for the lovely -“star?” Does not the eye watch the point of high light -in any scene?</p> - -<p>And then they were all in their places. Cary rushed about -giving last warnings, the orchestra music dropped to a low -murmur of mystery, and the curtain rose. Black, with -a last word to the waiting children, slipped out of the wings, -down the stairs, up through the orchestra door, and into -a seat held for him by a group of young men who were -now his special friends. It was Cary’s expressed wish that -he should see the play from the front, and then come back, -with the falling of the curtain, to tell the amateur actor-manager -how it had gone.</p> - -<p>No need to relate the whole story of the play. It is -not with the stage performance that we are most concerned, -but with that other play, quite out of sight of the -audience in the little theatre that night, which is to us -more interesting than the scenes they acted behind the -footlights. The stage play dealt with one of those thrilling -situations with which we have all since then, through -printed page and photograph and drama, become familiar. -We know now how those who went across to help, months—a -year—two years—before America came into the -war, felt about us who lagged behind. The young American -ambulance drivers who left their colleges and rushed -over because they couldn’t stand it that we weren’t remembering -our debt to France, and who threw themselves -and all they had to give into the breach, angry and proud -and absolutely forgetful of self, just to do their little part—these<span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[159]</span> -had Cary pictured in his play, chafing with impatience -because they couldn’t make all America understand -and care. The American girl whose schooldays had been -spent in Paris, who had many friends there, and who -wanted to put aside everything promised her at home and -go back to the country she had learned to love, to nurse -the Frenchmen who since the war began had taught her -what true gallantry might be—Cary had sketched her in -his rarest colours, a thing of beauty and of love, her heart -as tender as her spirit was dauntless.</p> - -<p>There was the American surgeon, come over at first -because he wanted to study the methods of the French -and English surgeons, but staying out of sheer pity, and -grimly working now to the last limit of his endurance, -unwilling to desert while the need was so great, calling -with every eloquent word he could find time to write back -to his brothers in the profession to come and help him stay -the flood of suffering. Drivers and nurses and doctors—these -were the characters whom Cary had chosen with -which to make his appeal to the laggard nation of us at -home.</p> - -<p>The Englishwoman, the Belgian mother with her little -starving children, the French officer, the dying French -poilu—these were the foils for the actress, torn from her -stage by a message brought by one of the American -ambulance men to the hospital that her brother was -passing. It was her part to create the scene with which -to stir the blood, hers to cry to the French officer: “Why -are the Americans not here to prevent his dying? Did -not our Lafayette and his men go to them at their call? -Does America owe us nothing, then? See, he is only a -boy—too young to die! Could they not have made it -impossible?”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[160]</span>Well, Fanny did it gloriously. All that had gone before -led up to her entrance, her gorgeous fur-lined cloak slipping -from her shoulders, her eyes imploring surgeon and nurses -to say that the boy was not yet gone. When she fell upon -her knees beside the cot where lay the limp figure of the -brother she was a figure to draw every eye and thought. -All the colour, all the light of the scene seemed to centre -in her, the bare hospital ward and the people in it turning -instantly to a dull background for her extravagant beauty, -her enchanting outlines, her anguish of spirit, her heroic -effort—after that one accusing cry—at composure. It -was impossible not to say that here was amateur acting -of a remarkable and compelling sort. If the pounding -heartbeats of the supposedly dying soldier under his torn -uniform might have been taken as an index of the pulses -of the audience, the general average must have been that -of high acceleration under the spell of Cary’s art and -Fanny’s cleverness.</p> - -<p>Could it be called more than cleverness? Robert Black -was wondering, as he watched her from down in front. -Of course he watched her, he would have been hardly -human if he had not, or if he had not also come, for the -moment, at least, under her spell. Cleverness or real -dramatic power—it was difficult to judge, as it is always -difficult when the eyes are irresistibly attracted by fascination -of face and form. In her dress Fanny had copied -to the life the extravagantly revealing outlines of a certain -daring and popular vaudeville actress. When Nan Lockhart -had suggested that for the conservative American -suburb a trifle less frank a showing might be better taste -Fanny had laughed and shrugged her shoulders, and said -she didn’t intend to spoil the part by prudery. She vowed -that Cary Ray was the sort who would be furious with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[161]</span> -her if she came to his stage looking like a modest maiden -on her day of graduation from school! “He’s no infant -prodigy,” she had added, “he’s a full-grown man-genius, -and I’m going to play up to him. Just watch me get -away with it!”</p> - -<p>She was getting away with it. Even Nan—who had -wanted to shake her from the moment of her first entrance -with that effect of being shyly reluctant to appear at all—had -to admit that Fanny had the audience in the hollow -of her pretty hand, not to mention the male portion of her -fellow actors, and, yes, even herself, as well. It was impossible -for Nan not to be fond of Fanny, and to forgive -her many of her sins, because of her personal charm and her -originality of speech and action. Whatever else she was, -no doubt but Fanny was always interesting. Generous -Nan was more than glad to have her friend distinguish -herself to-night, and looked on from her own unexacting -rôle, with a full pride in Fanny’s achievement.</p> - -<p>There arrived a moment in the play, however, when to -the discerning there came a sudden shifting of the honours. -It was almost at the last, when the scourging indictment -of the French actress had reached its height. It was then, -when the silence following her bitter cry had continued till -it had become painful, that the ambulance drivers and -the surgeon and nurse one by one came forward, till they -had surrounded the weeping Frenchwoman. Then the -nurse touched her on the shoulder:</p> - -<p>“Madame,” she said, “see. <i>We</i> are Americans!”</p> - -<p>The actress looked up. The youngest of the drivers -was bending a little toward her—a tall, slim boy, with his -left sleeve torn, a long cut down his cheek.</p> - -<p>“It’s a damned shame!” he said.</p> - -<p>The other drivers clenched their fists, murmuring fierce<span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[162]</span> -assent. The surgeon drew his hand across his tired eyes—one -could see that they were blurred. The nurse, her eyes -deep and wonderful with pity, put her arm about the bare, -shaking shoulders:</p> - -<p>“America will come,” she said—and her eyes seemed -to look across the sea. “She <i>must</i> come—and when she -does——”</p> - -<p>“Too late—for him!” The actress’s hand pointed accusingly -at the still form on the cot.</p> - -<p>“Yes, too late for him. Too late for much—but not -too late for all. Meanwhile, Madame—<i>we</i> are here—<i>and -we care</i>!”</p> - -<p>“You bet we do!” It was the youngest driver.</p> - -<p>“Your brother was a peach of a chap,” declared another, -and gently the audience down in front smiled while it wiped -its eyes.</p> - -<p>“A peasch?” Fanny’s little puzzled accent was perfect.</p> - -<p>“A hero, Madame—the bravest of the brave,” the nurse -explained.</p> - -<p>“Then—I am content!” The gesture was superb. -The glittering eyes of the actress looked out over the -audience, then lowered suddenly, to rest for one instant -on Robert Black. It was an error, and a fatal one, if to -nobody but him. Up to that moment she had had him—at -that moment she lost him as an enthralled spectator. -The little self-conscious action broke the spell she had -woven. His gaze left her and rested upon Jane. And -there it found—what made him say to himself, suddenly -enraged with his own lack of discrimination:</p> - -<p>“Have I forgotten to watch <i>you</i>—in watching <i>her</i>? -Shame on me! She’s only acting. You are—<i>real</i>!”</p> - -<p>His eyes, through the remaining moments of the play, -never again left Jane. Now that the dazzling light no<span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[163]</span> -longer blinded his vision he could see the beauty which had -needed neither over-enhancing make-up nor ravishing -costume to set it forth. In the plain white of the nurse’s -dress, with the nun-like head-veil so trying in its austerity, -her face full of the exquisite compassion which is the hallmark -of the profession, Jane was now for him the central -figure. And when the actress had left the stage, the cot -with its still figure had been removed, and the five Americans -had returned for their final scene, the simple humanness -of it somehow “got over,” as the phrase is, so completely -that in its own way it far outshone the splendour -of the tragedy that had preceded it. And this was the -sure mark of Cary’s art, that he had dared to close with -this.</p> - -<p>“The thing that gets me”—it was the youngest ambulance -driver again—“is how the devil we’re ever going to -make ’em see it back home—till it’s too late, same as she -said.”</p> - -<p>The tired surgeon lifted his head. “I would go home -and make some speeches,” he said, “if I could get away. -But if I go—who’ll do my job here?”</p> - -<p>“It will take ten men,” said the nurse, simply.</p> - -<p>He looked at her, and his grim smile touched his lips. -“Twenty nurses to fill your little shoes,” he retorted.</p> - -<p>“<i>Little</i> shoes?” The second ambulance driver looked -down at them. “They <i>are</i> darned little, but it <i>would</i> take -twenty nurses, at that!”</p> - -<p>“America’s <i>got</i> to come!” spoke the third driver—a -fair-haired boy with a fresh, tanned face. “Gee, she’s <i>got</i> -to come, or I’ll turn Frenchman, for one. I can’t stand -it any longer. Money and munitions—and food—that’s -what they write—and we ought to be satisfied. Satisfied! -<i>Men</i>—why don’t they send <i>men</i>? Why don’t they <i>come</i>—millions<span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[164]</span> -of ’em! Oh, it’s hell to have to be ashamed of -your own country!”</p> - -<p>“She will come!” It was the nurse. She stood up. -Her eyes looked out again across the seas. “I see her -coming.” She stretched out her arms. Behind her the -four men, the tired surgeon and the boyish ambulance -drivers, lifted their heads and stretched out their arms, -too. The girl’s voice rang out:</p> - -<p>“O America!—<i>Come</i>—before it is forever too late!”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The curtain fell. A murmur came from the audience—the -delayed applause rose, and rose again—then died away. -People got up, some triumphant, some uncertainly smiling, -others dark of brow. The young men beside Black were -aflame with the fire of that last challenge; their eyes looked -as if they were seeing new and strange things. When he -could get away from them Black pulled himself together, -dived through the orchestra door and came upon the -stage. He went first to Jane Ray.</p> - -<p>“Will you let me take you home when you are ready?” -he asked, very low. “I’ll tell you—then.”</p> - -<p>She nodded and turned away. He had seen her eyes—they -plainly showed that they had been wet with tears.</p> - -<p>He shook hands with Cary Ray, who smiled at him, -and spoke rather deliriously. “We put it over, didn’t -we? You don’t have to tell me. I can read the human -countenance. Are you going to start across to-night—or -will morning do?”</p> - -<p>“You gripped us all, Cary. Don’t expect me to talk -about it—just yet.”</p> - -<p>“All right—that’s enough. Here’s the girl who did -the trick.” And he put out his hands to Fanny Fitch.</p> - -<p>Only Nan could have told how Fanny had done it, but<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[165]</span> -somehow already she had managed to get rid of so much -of her make-up as was intended to reach across the footlights, -and that which remained was not so perceptible -that it made her look the painted lady. She was a siren -now, was Fanny, and a dangerously happy one. The -effect of her had become that of a radiant girl who enjoys -a well-earned triumph, of which the great masses of orchids -and roses she was now carrying were the fitting sign.</p> - -<p>“You scored a great success,” said Robert Black. He -was not afraid now to look at Fanny at close range; there -had been one moment in the play when he had thought he -might well be afraid, realizing acutely that he was only -human, after all, and had no stronger defenses than other -men. His glance met hers coolly. “I congratulate you -very heartily.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I’m glad you liked me,” she answered, and her -voice was thrillingly low. “It means so much to me—to -please <i>you</i>! I was afraid I could never do that—your discrimination -is so fine. You would have known if I had -not really felt the part. I did—it seemed to me I simply -lived in that French actress’s body. It was a tremendous -experience really. I can never, never forget it.”</p> - -<p>“Wasn’t she glorious?” Cary’s tense voice broke in. -He had not moved away. “I believe I must have written -the thing for her without ever having seen her. But -I’ve seen her now!” His fiery gaze devoured her, his thin -cheek flushed more deeply than before. Suddenly Black -was acutely aware of a new source of anxiety for Cary. -What would Fanny Fitch do with him, he wondered. -“Listen,” Cary went on hurriedly. “I’m going to have a -bit of a supper over at the hotel—this event has got to be -celebrated somehow. I’ve had Tom telephone over, and -they’ll get a few eats and things together for us in a hurry.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[166]</span> -Anyhow, we can work off a little of the high pressure that -way—and it’s got to be worked off, or a maniac like me -can’t keep his head till morning. You’ll join us, of course, -Mr. Black?”</p> - -<p>“I’ll go over, and take your sister, but I can’t stay. -You won’t need me—and I haven’t been an actor, so I’m -naturally not in on it. Thank you just the same, Cary.”</p> - -<p>“Sure thing you’re in on it—nobody more so—we won’t -let you off. Nail him for me, will you, Miss Fitch?” and -Cary rushed away.</p> - -<p>“Why, it will be no celebration at all without you!” -breathed Fanny Fitch, with a glance which would certainly -have turned Tom Lockhart crazy. Black felt himself -proof against it, even though his eyes told him that it was -worth getting if a man had a taste for that sort of thing. -She went on quickly: “You won’t make us—I don’t -mind saying you won’t make me, personally—so -unhappy?”</p> - -<p>“I’m sure you won’t be that, Miss Fitch, with all your -fellow actors to tell you how skillful your acting was.”</p> - -<p>“Skillful! Oh, but I don’t like that word!”</p> - -<p>“Why not? All acting means skill, doesn’t it?”</p> - -<p>“But—if you didn’t see more than that in it—I shall -be dreadfully hurt, Mr. Black. I meant to put—my -heart into it! It was such a wonderful play—it deserved -no less than that, did it?”</p> - -<p>“No less. And had no less from you all, I think.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, they were all splendid!” agreed Fanny, rallying -instantly to this call. “Miss Ray was perfect, especially. -Of course she had the glorious advantage of the last word—and -how effectively she used it! <i>There</i> was skill for you, -indeed. I didn’t know Miss Ray was so clever!”</p> - -<p>“That’s generous of you,” said Black—and if there was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[167]</span> -only a half-veiled irony in his tone now, Fanny didn’t -recognize it. The ambulance drivers were hovering close, -waiting for their chance. Black got away at length, and -it was with a curious sense of contentment that he listened -to something Mrs. Red Pepper Burns was saying -as he passed her: “Each one took his or her part tellingly, -but of course the honours rest with Miss Ray. -She didn’t act, she <i>was</i> that American girl summoning -us all. I can hear that last call yet!”</p> - -<p>“My jolly, so can I!” Red’s lips shut together in a -tight line.</p> - -<p>Black now did his best managing. He wasn’t specially -good at it, it being rather a new part for him to play, -where women were concerned. He was much more accustomed -to maneuvering to escape a too persistent encouragement -of his society than deliberately to planning -to get somebody to himself. His idea just now was that -if he could only take Jane away before the rest had started -for the hotel, a few blocks down the street, he might secure -the short walk with her alone. He had discovered that it -was raining, one of those late March rains which melt -the lingering snow from the streets, the air mild, the suggestion -of coming spring hinting strongly in the very feel -of the air. Cary was announcing that motors would soon -be at hand to take everybody—he wanted them all to remain -in costume, just for fun. Black must be quick now -if he would secure the thing he found he wanted very much -indeed.</p> - -<p>“Miss Ray, don’t you want to walk instead of ride? -I warn you that it’s raining, but wouldn’t the walk be good -for you, after all this heat and strain?”</p> - -<p>Jane turned to him. She had put on a long belted coat -over her white uniform; she still wore her nurse’s veil-cap.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[168]</span>“Oh, yes!” she answered, quickly. “It’s just what I -want most.”</p> - -<p>“Then come—now, if you can. I’ll tell Tom to explain -to your brother. He’ll forgive us—he’ll forgive anything -to-night.”</p> - -<p>They slipped away, and only Red’s quick eye saw them -go. He said nothing to anybody—why should he? He -knew Robert Black too well, by now, not to understand -why he felt like getting away, and not to be entirely in -sympathy with his wanting to go with Jane Ray. He felt -like that himself—he didn’t want to go to anybody’s -supper party. But he knew that Cary must be allowed -to let down gradually to-night, and he knew that he was -the one to stand by, as he meant to do. Black had done -it far oftener than he.</p> - -<p>Down in the street, with the first touch of the wet, mild -air upon her hot cheek, Jane drew a long, refreshed breath.</p> - -<p>“Oh, that’s so good,” she said.</p> - -<p>“Isn’t it? Somehow I knew it was what you needed -after that. Do you know what you did to us?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know what I did to anybody,” she said, “except -myself.”</p> - -<p>“<i>I</i> know.”</p> - -<p>They walked in silence, after these few words, for a full -block. Black held the umbrella low—it was a large umbrella, -and sheltered them both very well. He had offered -Jane his arm—it is difficult for two people to keep sufficiently -close together under an umbrella not to get wet -unless one takes the other’s arm. She had not taken it, -but she had gripped a fold of cloth on the under part of -his sleeve, and this held her securely in place. He could -just feel that slightest of contacts, and it gave him an odd -sense of comradeship.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[169]</span>The silence was grateful to them both, as silence may be -between two people each of whom understands a good -deal of what the other is thinking. When Jane broke it, -at the end of the second block, it was with an unconscious -security that she could go on from where she had left -off, without explaining the gap.</p> - -<p>“I’ve got to go,” she said, in a tense voice. “I knew -that, when I took the part, or I couldn’t have dared to take -it.”</p> - -<p>“I knew you must be feeling that way. I understand. -So am I.”</p> - -<p>She looked up quickly. “Oh! Shall you go?”</p> - -<p>“Of course.”</p> - -<p>“At once?”</p> - -<p>“I am in a sense bound to my church—until my first -year here is up, at least. It will be up in April. If war -isn’t declared by that time I shall go, whether the church -is willing to send me or not.”</p> - -<p>“I can’t wait,” said Jane, “till America is in, unless she -is in before I can get away. Cary can’t, either. He is -going to try to get a berth at once, as correspondent for his -old paper. He has sent them this play—it ought to -show them that he is—at work again and that—his brain -is clear. He’s physically pretty fit now, I think.”</p> - -<p>“That’s great. And how will you go?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know yet—I’ll find a way. All I know is, I -can’t stand it another day not to be getting ready. -There’ll be some place for me—there must be.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t question it.” He looked down at that sweet, -sturdy profile outlined now against the many lights of the -small downtown park they were passing. “Yes, they’ll -find a place for you. I wish I could be as sure of the one I -want.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[170]</span>“You?” Jane looked quickly up at him, and their eyes -met. “You want a commission?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. I want a chaplaincy.”</p> - -<p>“Oh!” Her tone showed deep disappointment. “I -knew you were all on fire about the war, but I did think -you——”</p> - -<p>“Would want a bigger job?”</p> - -<p>“Yes!”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know of any,” he said, steadily.</p> - -<p>“How can you feel that way—how can you? A chaplain -doesn’t bear arms—doesn’t go to the front—stays in -safe places——” Her fingers let go of his sleeve, she -walked alone.</p> - -<p>“The sort of chaplain I mean,” said Black—with a biting -sense of injury at his heart—“does bear arms. He -does go to the front. He never stays in safe places if -he can by any chance get out of them. Will you please—take -that back? I don’t think I can bear it—from -you.”</p> - -<p>She looked up at him again, and again he looked down -at her. She saw the pain in his eyes, saw the virility in -his lean, strong face, the way his jaw set and his lips compressed -themselves in the line that speaks determination, -and was ashamed—and convinced.</p> - -<p>“I take it back,” she said. “You couldn’t be anything -but a fighting man wherever they put you. I ought to -know, by the way you have fought for my brother. Forgive -me.”</p> - -<p>He was silent for a minute. Then he said slowly: -“The next time you come on a list of citations for distinguished -bravery, over there, would you mind reading -it carefully? And when you come to a chaplain’s name, -notice what he did to deserve it. That’s all I ask.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[171]</span>“I’m sorry,” Jane said softly. “I suppose I don’t know -the facts.”</p> - -<p>“I imagine you don’t, Miss Ray.”</p> - -<p>“You’re still angry with me. I can’t blame you.”</p> - -<p>“I’m not angry. But I do care that the splendid fellows -over there who wear the cross on the collar of their tunic -should never be spoken of as if they were looking for safe -places. If I can take my place among them I’ll want no -higher honour—and no more dangerous work than they -take upon themselves.”</p> - -<p>Jane’s fingers laid hold of the fold of his coat-sleeve -again. She bit her lip. Then she said gently:</p> - -<p>“I asked to be forgiven. Isn’t it a part of your office -to forgive the repentant?”</p> - -<p>He was staring straight ahead, and this time it was she -who looked at a profile; stern and hard she thought it for -a minute. Then the set lips relaxed, and a deep breath -came through them. “I seem to care too much what you -think,” he acknowledged. “It doesn’t matter, I suppose, -what you do think. Never mind.”</p> - -<p>“But I’ve apologized.”</p> - -<p>“You haven’t changed your feeling about it. I’m not -looking for a personal apology. It’s all right. Tell me—when -do you think you can get off?”</p> - -<p>Jane stopped short. The pair were in a side street, -and there were no pedestrians upon it within a considerable -distance. “Mr. Robert Black,” she said, “I’ll not go -another foot with you till you are friends with me again.”</p> - -<p>“Friends with you?” He seemed to consider the question. -“Having once been your friend—how can I ever -be anything else—unless you tell me I can’t be? But -even friends can—fail to see.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t fail to see. I see very clearly—quite suddenly.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[172]</span> -And—if we are both going over, in the same cause, we -must keep on being friends. I think—” Jane’s voice -held a peculiar vibration—“I think, before I am through -with it, I may be very glad to have—a chaplain—for a -friend!”</p> - -<p>Robert Black looked at her steadily for a moment. His -lips broke into a smile; she could see his splendid white -teeth between the pleasant lines. “Ah, you do make full -amends!” he admitted. “I—shall we——” Then he -glanced up and down the street. He began to laugh. -“Where is that hotel?” he queried.</p> - -<p>Jane’s eyes scanned the street corners ahead and behind -them. “I think we’ve gone by it,” she said, with -mirth.</p> - -<p>“Then—let’s go a little farther by. Do you mind? -Mayn’t we go to that big building down there, before we -turn around? It’s not raining so very hard now. I hate -to take leave of you—just yet. It seems a poor place to -stop—when we’ve just got back to—the place we started -at.”</p> - -<p>“And what was the place we started at?” She let him -take her forward again. He was walking more and more -slowly. It looked as if a good deal of time might possibly -be consumed before they should reach the designated -building and then retrace their steps to the patiently waiting -hotel.</p> - -<p>“The place where we were both going to war. Do you -realize what a meeting ground that is?”</p> - -<p>She nodded. “It is—quite a meeting ground. It -seems to——” she hesitated. He repeated the words -with the rising inflection. She shook her head.</p> - -<p>“I can finish it for you,” he said. “It seems to—set us -apart, just a little—from the rest. At least—till they say<span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[173]</span> -they are going, too. Some of them will say that very soon. -Till they do—do you mind being—in a little clear space—just -with me—and with this big thing ahead to talk about -together?”</p> - -<p>It was a minute before Jane answered. When she did, -it was in the frankest, sweet way that she said straightforwardly, -“No, I don’t mind, Mr. Black. I think I—rather -like it. You see, you’re not—poor company!”</p> - -<p>Though they went on from there on that note of frank -friendliness, finished the walk, came finally to the hotel, -parted with the simplest sort of comradely good-night, -there could be no question that the bond between them, -till now established wholly on the basis of Black’s friendship -for Cary, had become something which was from Cary -quite apart. Whatever it was, it took Robert Black a -good three miles of walking alone in a rain which had all -at once become a downpour to think it out, and wonder, -with a quickening of the pulses, where it led.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[174]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XI<br /> - - -<small>A LONG APRIL NIGHT</small></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap2">“LET a fellow in? Oh—sorry! Did I wake you up?” -Black looked up, dazedly. It struck him that -Red didn’t appear particularly sorry, in spite of his brusque -apology. The red-headed doctor stood just within the -minister’s study door, bearing all the appearance of one -who comes on the wings of some consuming enthusiasm.</p> - -<p>Black pushed a number of sheets of closely written paper -under a convenient magazine. He ran his hand across -his forehead, thrusting back dark locks more or less in disarray. -His eyes were undeniably heavy.</p> - -<p>“Come in—do! Have a seat. Let me take your coat.”</p> - -<p>“Thanks. You look in the dumps. Somebody been -flaying you alive?”</p> - -<p>Black smiled a little wanly. “No. I rather wish they -had. It might give me something to think about. What -is it? You are full of some news—I can see that. Did -you do me the honour of coming to tell me about it?”</p> - -<p>Red laughed. “That’s like you. Anybody else would -have left me to get around to it gradually, if he’d even -noticed that I seemed to be bursting with news. Well, I -am. And I had to blow off to somebody right now. Saw -your light and knew you were mulling over some self-appointed -task at this unholy hour. Thought it would probably -be good for you to turn your attention to a fellow-sufferer.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[175]</span>Black’s sombre eyes rested intently on Red’s face. Red -had thrown his hat upon one chair, his motoring coat upon -another, and had seated himself astride of a straight and -formal manse chair, facing its back. His face was deeply -flushed; his eyes held all manner of excited lights.</p> - -<p>“You’re no sufferer,” was Black’s decision. “What is -it? You’re not—off for the war?”</p> - -<p>“You’ve got it. That’s exactly what I am. Had a -cable half an hour ago from my friend Leaver at the American -Hospital at N——. He says come along as fast as -I can get there. He can use me, or have me sent to the front -line, as I prefer. If Jack Leaver says come, that settles it. -I’ll go as quick as I can get my affairs in order, take my -physical tests, have my inoculations, and put through my -passports. How’s that?”</p> - -<p>“It’s great. Of course you’ll get to the front as fast as -possible—I know you. I congratulate you—heartily.” -Black got up and came over, his hand out. Red seized it. -He hung onto it, looking up into Black’s face.</p> - -<p>“Come on, too!” he challenged.</p> - -<p>“I wish I could. I can’t—yet.”</p> - -<p>Red dropped the hand—or would have dropped it if it -had not been withdrawn before he had the chance. He -scowled.</p> - -<p>“Why not?”</p> - -<p>“Because I can’t get the place I want till war is declared -and we begin to send men. I’ll wait for that.”</p> - -<p>“That means months, even if Congress loses no more -time.”</p> - -<p>“You know better. Our regulars will go mighty soon -after we declare war. I’ll find my place with them.”</p> - -<p>“And what’s the place you want?”</p> - -<p>Black looked at him steadily. “You know, don’t you?”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[176]</span>Red nodded, grimly. “I suppose I do. Tom told me—but -I wouldn’t believe it. Look here, man! Give up that -fool notion that you’ve got to stick to your cloth, and go -in for a man’s job. Come over with me and enlist in one -of your Scottish regiments—that’s the place for you. -Then you’ll see the real thing. You’ve got the stuff in -you.”</p> - -<p>Black’s face was going slowly white. “I’m an American. -When I go I’m going as chaplain of an American regiment.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, what damned rot!”</p> - -<p>Red Pepper Burns was powerfully overwrought, or he -wouldn’t have said it. The next instant he realized what -he had said, for the lithe figure before him had straightened -and stiffened as if Red had brought the flat of his hand -against the other man’s cheek. At the same instant a -voice cold with wrath said with a deadly quiet command -in the ring of it: “Take that back, Doctor Burns.”</p> - -<p>“I take back the word, if you like—but not the thought. -I can’t do that. A chaplaincy isn’t a man’s job—not a -young man’s job. Plenty of old priests and middle-aged -parsons to look after the dying. A good right arm like -yours should carry a rifle. I’d rather see you stay out of -it altogether than go in for the army-cut petticoats of -your profession.”</p> - -<p>Then indeed Red saw a strange sight. He had seen -many men angry in his time; he now saw one angrier than -he would have believed possible without an outburst of -profanity. Black grew so pale he might have been going -to faint if the glitter in his black eyes hadn’t told the tale -of a vitality which was simply taking it out that way instead -of by showing red, as most men do. He opened his -lips once and closed them again. He raised his right hand<span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[177]</span> -and slowly clenched it, looking down at it, while Red -watched him curiously. At last he spoke, in a strange, -low voice, still looking at that right hand of his:</p> - -<p>“I never wanted anything in my life so much as to -knock you down—for that,” he said; and then his eyes -went from his clenched fist to look straight into Red’s.</p> - -<p>“Why don’t you do it? I give you leave. It <i>was</i> an -insult—I admit it—the second one. But I don’t take it -back. It’s what I think—honestly. If you don’t like it, -it’s up to you to prove yourself of a different calibre.”</p> - -<p>Red still sat astride of his chair, watching Black, whose -gaze had gone back to that right hand of his. He opened -and closed it again—and once more, and then he spoke.</p> - -<p>“Doctor Burns,” he said, slowly, “I don’t think I have -to take this sort of thing from you—and I don’t think I -will.” He walked over to his study door, opened it, and -stood there waiting, like a figure cut out of stone. Red -leaped to his feet, his own eyes snapping.</p> - -<p>“By jolly!” he shouted, seizing his hat and coat. “I -don’t have to be shown the door twice!” And he strode -across the floor. As he came up to Black the two pairs of -eyes met again. Anything sadder than the look now in -Black’s, overriding his anger, Red never had seen. It -almost made him pause—not quite. He went along out -and the door closed quietly behind him.</p> - -<p>In the hall a plump, middle-aged figure was coming toward -him. Anxiety was written large on Mrs. Hodder’s -austerely motherly face. He would have gone by her -with a nod, but she put out a hand to stop him, and spoke -in a whisper:</p> - -<p>“I hope, Doctor, you cheered him up a little. Poor -man—I never saw him so down.”</p> - -<p>Red grunted. “No—I’m afraid I didn’t cheer him up<span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[178]</span> -much,” he admitted, gruffly. “He wasn’t in any mood -to be cheered.”</p> - -<p>“No, indeed. A body can’t get over such news as he -had to-day in a hurry. He hasn’t eat a mouthful since he -heard.”</p> - -<p>“What?” Red paused, in the very act of pushing on -past her detaining hand. “Bad news, you say?”</p> - -<p>“Why, yes—didn’t he tell you? He told me. Two of -his sister’s sons are killed—and she only had three, and all -in this awful war. Killed almost together, they were. -He showed me their pictures—the likeliest looking boys—one -looks something like Mr. Black himself. Why, I -can’t think why he didn’t tell you, and him so terrible cut -up about it.”</p> - -<p>Red wheeled, and looked back at the closed study door. -He looked again at Mrs. Hodder. “I’m glad you told me,” -he said almost under his breath. “I think I’ll—go back.”</p> - -<p>He went back, pausing a minute at the door before he -opened it. Then he turned the knob softly, as if a very -sick patient were lying within. He went in noiselessly, -as doctors do, his eyes upon the figure seated again at the -desk, its head down upon its folded arms. He crossed -over to the desk, and laid his hand on Black’s right arm.</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry, lad,” he said. “I didn’t know.”</p> - -<p>Black raised his head, and now Red’s eyes saw what they -had not seen before—the ravages of a real grief. The red-headed -doctor was the possessor of rather the largest -heart known to man, and it was that heart which now took -command of his words and acts.</p> - -<p>“I didn’t know. Black,” Red repeated.</p> - -<p>“How do you know now?”</p> - -<p>“Mrs. Hodder told me. A curse on me for hitting you -when you were down.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[179]</span>After a minute Black’s hand reached for the thin sheets -of closely written paper which he had pushed under the -magazine when Red had first entered. He looked them -over rapidly, then pointed to a paragraph. Red scanned -it as quickly as the unfamiliar handwriting would permit. -As he read he gave a low ejaculation or two, eloquent of -the impression made upon him.</p> - -<p>“You may be proud of them,” he said, heartily. “And—they -were of your blood. I don’t think I need question -its virility. I guess I’d best leave it to you to decide what’s -your course—and not butt in with my snap judgments.”</p> - -<p>Black looked up. “Thank you, Doctor Burns,” he -said, “for coming back.”</p> - -<p>“Forget what I said—will you?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t think I can—right away. It doesn’t matter.”</p> - -<p>“It does matter—when you’re down and out with getting -a letter like that. If I hadn’t been so hot with my own -affairs I’d have seen for myself something’d happened.”</p> - -<p>“It’s all right, Doctor.” Black rose wearily. “Some -day I’m going to make you think differently. Until -then—perhaps we’ll do better not to talk about it. I’m -glad you’re going—I envy you. Let’s let it go at that, -for to-night.”</p> - -<p>Red held out his hand. “You’ll shake hands?”</p> - -<p>“Of course.”</p> - -<p>Somehow as he went away Red was feeling sorrier than -he would have believed possible that anything had happened -to make that handshake what he had felt it—a -purely formal and perfunctory one. Why had he said -those blamed mean things to Black about his profession, -he wondered. Confound his red head and his impudent -tongue! He liked Robert Black, liked him a lot, and better -and better all the time; trusted him, too—he realized<span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[180]</span> -that. He had rushed into the manse study to-night from -a genuine impulse to tell his good news to the man from -whom he was surest of understanding and sympathy with -his own riotous joy over his great luck in getting the chance -to go across. And then he’d had to go and cut the fellow -where he was already wide open with his own private sorrow! -If there had been any way in which Red could have -made it up to his friend—yes, Black had become his friend, -no doubt of it, to rather an unanticipated degree—if there -had been any way in which he could have made it up to -him, taken the sting out of the hard words, and sent the -“lad” to bed feeling that somebody besides his housekeeper -cared that he was unhappy—well, Red would have -given considerable, as he went away, to have done -that thing. But there wasn’t any way. There hardly -ever is.</p> - -<p>If he had known just what he left behind him, in that -manse study, undoubtedly Red would have been sorrier -yet—if he could have fully understood it. It is possible -that he could not just have understood, not having been -made of quite the same fibre as the other man. What he -would have understood, if he had chanced to see Black at -about the third watch of the night, would have been that -he was passing through some experience more tremendous -than that which any loss of kin could possibly have brought -him. The facts in the case were that, all unwittingly, Red -Pepper Burns, with a few hasty words, had brought upon -Robert Black the darkest hours he thus far had had to live -through.</p> - -<p>It tackled him shortly after Red had left—the thought -which would not down—or, rather, the first of the two -thoughts, for there were two with which he had to wrestle -that long April night. It leaped at him suddenly, that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[181]</span> -first thought, and in an instant, it had him by the throat. -Why not admit that Red was right, that the average -chaplaincy in the army or navy was a soft, safe job, and -not an honoured one at all? Why not let everything else -go, resign his church, go back to Scotland, look up men -of influence he knew there, and try for a commission? -Why not? Why not—— <i>Why not?</i></p> - -<p>Would that mean that he would leave the ministry—permanently? -More than likely it would. Well, what if -it did? Could anything be better worth doing now than -offering his life in the Great War? Why stay here, preaching -flaming sentiment to a congregation who mostly -thought him overwrought upon the whole subject? Why -stay here, holding futile committee meetings, arguing -ways and means with hard-headed business men who -were everlastingly thinking him visionary and impractical? -Why go on calling on old ladies and sick people—christening -babies—reading funeral services—marrying people -who would more than likely be better single? Why go on -with the whole round of parish work, he, a man of military -age, a crack shot—he had not spent all those years in the -South for nothing!—possessed of a strong right arm, a -genius for leadership—when an older man could do all -these things for these people, and release him for work an -older man couldn’t do? And if he were free——</p> - -<p>Yes, it was here that his second temptation got in its -startling work. If he were free—he would be free to do -as other men did: marry a wife without regard to her -peculiar fitness to be—a minister’s wife! It wouldn’t -make any difference, then, if she never went to church, -had no interest in any of the forms of religious life, didn’t -read her Bible—didn’t even say her prayers when she went -to bed—didn’t do anything orthodox—as he was pretty<span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">[182]</span> -sure somebody he knew didn’t. What did all that matter, -anyhow, so her heart was clean—as he knew it was!</p> - -<p>Black pushed his revolving chair back from his desk so -violently that it nearly tipped over. He began to pace -up and down the study floor, his hands shoved deep into -his pockets, a tense frown between his brows. He walked -and walked and walked, getting nowhere in his mental -discussion precisely as he got nowhere in actual distance -with all that marching. And suddenly the similarity -between the two processes struck him, and he rushed into -the hall, seized hat and coat, put them on as a man does -who finds himself late for a train, and let himself out into -the April night where the air was heavy with a gathering -storm. It was precisely midnight by the sounding of a -distant tower clock as the manse door closed behind him.</p> - -<p>Do you happen to know, by any analogous experience, -just what sort of a night Robert Black spent, alone with -himself? If you do, no need to describe it to you. If -you have never wrestled with a great spiritual temptation, -beating it off again and again only to have it steal up and -grip you more powerfully than before, then you can have -no conception of what that night brought to Black. A -concrete temptation—one to steal or rape or kill—can have -no comparison in insidiously disarming power with one -made up of forces which cannot be definitely assigned to -the right side or the wrong. When the thing one wants to -do can be made to seem the right thing, when Satan masks -as an angel of light, and only a faint inner voice tells one -insistently that his premises, his deductions, his conclusions, -are every one false, then indeed does the struggle become -a thing of increasing torture, compared with which -physical distress is to be welcomed.</p> - -<p>It was four in the morning when Black let himself into<span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">[183]</span> -the manse again, the light in his study seeming to him the -only light there was left in the whole world, and that dim -and unilluminating enough. Outside a heavy storm of -wind had disabled the local electric service, and the streets -for the last two hours had been dark as Erebus—and as -Black’s own thoughts. He had been grateful for that -darkness for a time; then suddenly it had oppressed him -unbearably and he had fled back to his home as swiftly as -he had left it. There—there, in the room where he was -used to think things out, was the place for him to come to -his decision.</p> - -<p>As he came in at the manse door the lights flashed on -again. It was undeniably warm and bright there in his -study, but his heavy heart took no comfort from this. -It was a physical relief to be inside out of the storm, but -the storm in his soul abated not a jot at sight of the -familiar place. The very look of the study table, filled -with matters of one sort or another pertaining to his work—his -writing pad, his loose-leaf notebook, his leather -sermon-holder, the row of books with which he had lately -been working and which were therefore lined up between -heavy book-ends for convenience in laying his hand -upon them—somehow the sight of these gave him a sense -of their littleness, their futility, compared with the things -he had been seeing as he walked. A rifle, with a bayonet -fixed and gleaming at its end; a Scottish uniform, with -chevrons on the sleeve and insignia on the shoulder—a -worn, soiled uniform at that; men all about, real men, who -did not fuss over trifles nor make too much of anything, -men with whom he could be friend or enemy as he desired—these -were what Black saw. He saw also the two brave -lads who had gone to their death, his own blood, who had -been coming over shortly to follow his lead in the big country<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[184]</span> -where he had found room to breathe, and whose untimely -end he longed personally to avenge. And he saw—Jane -Ray, over there, herself in service, meeting him -somewhere, when both had done their part, and joining -her life with his in some further service to mankind, -social, reconstructive, unhampered by the bonds of any -religious sect——</p> - -<p>Oh, well—perhaps you can’t see or feel it—perhaps to -you the logical thing seems the very thing that so called -to Robert Black. Why shouldn’t he listen—why shouldn’t -he respond—why wasn’t this the real thing, the big thing, -and why shouldn’t he dare to take it, and give God thanks -that He had released him from too small, too cramped, too -narrow a place of usefulness, into one which was bounded -only by the edges of the great world of need? What -was it that held him back—that so hardly held him -back?</p> - -<p>It was a little black-bound book which first began to -turn the tide. It was lying on the study desk, pushed well -back under some loose papers, but it was there all the time, -and Black never once lost the remembrance that it was -there. Again and again he wished it were not there, because -he knew through it all that he could never settle the -thing without reference to that little worn book. It was -not the Bible, it was a ritual-book, containing all the forms -of service in use in the Church to which Black belonged; -it held, among others, the service for the ordination of -ministers, and that very book had been used in the ordination -of Black himself. As a man fighting to free himself -from his marriage vows might struggle to turn his thoughts -away from the remembrance of the solemn words he had -once spoken, so did Black, in his present mood, strive to -forget the very nearness at hand of that little book. And<span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[185]</span> -yet, at last, as he had known he would, he seized and -opened it. After all, were such vows as he had made -irrevocable? Many a man had forsaken them, first and -last. Had none of these deserters been justified?</p> - -<p>Yet, as he went over and over it, that which hit him so -heavily was not the language of the ordination vows which -he had been evading and which now struck him full in -his unwilling conscience, gravely binding though the -phrases were. Nor was it that of the closing prayer, well -though he remembered how the words had thrilled him, -and had thrilled him ever since, whenever he read them -over: “<i>Endue him with spiritual grace; help him perform -the vow that he has made; and continuing faithful unto death -may he at length receive the crown of life which the Lord, -the righteous Judge, will give him in that day.</i>” No, it -was not these words which held his reluctant gaze fast at -last, but others, which he had written into the small -blank space at the top of the page whereon the service -began.</p> - -<p>Two years before he had had sudden and unexpected -word of his mother’s death on Easter Day—and the approaching -Sunday would be Easter again. On that day, -because she had been dear to him, and because he had been -across the seas from her, he had written upon the page -a renewal of his ordination vows. When he had been a -little boy she had told him that some day she wanted him -to be a minister of the Scottish Church, the Free Kirk of -Scotland, in which she had been brought up. It had hurt -her that he had wanted to go away to America, and though -he had several times during the succeeding years crossed -the ocean to see her, she had never quite recovered from -the disappointment. On a strange impulse, that Easter -Day, two years ago, knowing that he could never in this<span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">[186]</span> -world see her face again, he had taken up his pen and -written upon the blank space these words:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p><span class="smcap">Beloved Mother</span>:</p> - -<p>This is the most precious thing I have in the world. I give it -to you this Easter Day of your entrance into Heaven. These -words were used at my ordination. I have said them over again -to-day, because of your love for me, and my love for you. I shall -keep them always.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Robert.</span></p> -</div> - -<p>These, then, were the irrevocable words he could not -take back. He had vowed to his God—he had promised -his mother—— How shall a man take back such words? -He had known all along it was unthinkable that he should, -but his fight had been none the less tremendous for that—perhaps -the more, for that. The tighter one feels the -bonds that bind him, the harder is the struggle against -them.</p> - -<p>Black fell upon his knees before the old red-cushioned -rocker which still held its place among the more dignified -furnishings of the study. Somehow, it was this chair -which was to him his Throne of Grace. He had not yet -given up—it seemed to him he couldn’t give up—but he -had come to this, that he could take the attitude of prayer -about it, instead of striding blindly through the silent -streets, his own fierce will driving him on. And even as -he knelt, there came before him with new and vivid colour, -like a fascinating portrait on a screen, the face of Jane Ray. -Thus far, to-night, he had succeeded mostly in keeping her -in the background, at least till he should have decided his -great question. But with her sudden return to the forefront -of his mental images came a new and startling -thought: “If you went as she wants you to go, you might<span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">[187]</span> -marry her before you went. You might go together. -But as a chaplain—you can only be her friend. Make -love to her—wild love, and take her off her feet! Be -human—you’ve every right.”</p> - -<p>At this he fairly leaped to his feet. And then began -the very worst conflict of all, for this last thought was more -than flesh and blood could stand. In his present mood, -the exhaustion of the night’s vigil beginning to tell heavily -against his endurance, he was as vulnerable as mortal -could well be. Since the night when he had seen Jane -act in Cary’s play and had taken her for the walk in the -rain, her attraction for him had grown apace. He had -not understood quite how it had grown till Red’s words -to-night had set his imagination aflame. The vision of -his going soldiering had somehow kindled in him new -fires of earthly longing, dropping his priesthood out of -sight. Now, suddenly, he found himself all but a lover, -of the most human sort, thinking with pulses leaping of -marriage in haste, with the parting which must inevitably -soon follow keying the whole wonderful experience to the -highest pitch. It was the sort of imagining which, once -indulged in for a moment, goes flying past all bounds and -barriers, while the breath quickens and the blood races, -and the man is all man, with other plans, other hopes, other -aspirations forgot, in the rush of a desire so overwhelming -that he can take no account of anything else in heaven or -earth.</p> - -<p>Small wonder, then, that Black should find he must have -it out with himself all over again, nothing settled, even -the little black-bound book in one mad moment dropped -into a drawer and the drawer slammed shut. Not fair—<i>not -fair</i>—to have to keep that book in sight! God Himself -knew, He must know, that when He made man he made<span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">[188]</span> -him full of passions—for all sorts of splendid things—and -perhaps the greatest of these were war—and love! How -should a man be satisfied to be—a priest? No altar fire -could burn brightly enough for him to warm his cold hands. -As for his heart—it seemed to him just then that no -priest’s heart could ever be warm at all!</p> - -<p>Could it not? Even as Black raged up and down his -room, his hands clenched, his jaw hard set, his eyes fell -upon a picture in the shadow—one he knew well. There -had been a time when that picture had been one of his -dearest possessions and had hung always above his desk. -When he had come to his new church, and had been setting -his new study in order, Tom had helped him hang his few -pictures. It had been Tom who, glancing critically at -this one, and seeing in it nothing to himself appealing—it -was to him a dim and shadowy thing, of little colour and -no significance—had hurriedly placed it over here, in this -unlighted corner. Several times since Black had noted it -there, and had said to himself that it was a shame for the -beautiful thing to be so obscured—he must remove it to -a better place and light, because he really cared much for -it. But he had been busy—and careless—he had not -removed it. And now, suddenly, it drew him. He -went to it, took it from the wall, went over to the desk -light with it. And then, as he looked, once again the miracle -happened, and the spirit, the spirit which God Himself -has set in every human creature, leaped up and triumphed -over the flesh, and Black’s fight was over—for that time. -Not over forever, perhaps, but over for that time—which -was enough.</p> - -<p>Perhaps you know the picture—it is well known and -much loved. A great cathedral nave stretches away into -the distance, the altar in the far background streaming with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">[189]</span> -light, the choir gathered, the service on. The foreground -of the picture is all in shadow, and in the depths of that -shadow kneels one prostrate form in an abandon of -anxiety or grief. Behind it, unseen, stands a wondrous, -pitying, strongly supporting figure with hand outstretched, -an aura of light about it, love and understanding emanating -from it. Not with the crowd at the altar, but with -the lonely human creature in the darkness, lingers the -figure of the Lord. The words below are these: “<i>Lo, I -am with you alway, even unto the end of the world.</i>”</p> - -<p>Robert Black dropped upon his knees once more before -the old red-cushioned chair, but not, now, with will rebellious -against a too hard fate, a too rigorous necessity. -The old loyalty, at sight of the picture which in past days -of happy faith had meant so much to him, had sprung into -life again as a flame, quenched but not put out, springs as -the wind fans it. A sob came into his dry throat, his head -went down upon his folded arms. His body relaxed; -after a minute he no longer knelt, he had sunk upon the -floor with his face pillowed against the red cushion in the -chair-seat.</p> - -<p>“O my Christ!” he said slowly aloud, “I give up. I -couldn’t do it for God—but I can for You! It was You I -promised—I’ll keep it—till the end! If I go to war, I’ll -go to carry—Your Cross! And if You’ll let me, I’ll carry -it to the very front!”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Hodder found him in the morning—though it was -morning indeed when the fight was over. He had been -asleep but an hour, there on the floor by the old red rocker, -when she came briskly in to open the windows and give -the manse study its usual early dusting and setting to -rights. At sight of the desk light still burning dully in the -pale daylight she looked astonished, and a moment later,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">[190]</span> -as she espied the figure on the floor by the chair, she -started, frightened. Trembling she called the minister’s -name, stooping over him; but seeing at once the warm -colour in his cheek, drew back with an agitated breath of -relief.</p> - -<p>“My land!” she murmured, “if the poor dear man ain’t -so beat out he’s went to sleep right here on the floor. I -always did know he’d kill himself if he kept rushin’ around -so, tryin’ to be all things to all men—and all women. -Seems like they couldn’t think of enough things to ask -him to do for ’em, besides all the things he thinks of himself. -That bad news he got, too—likely that was what -used him up.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” answered a very sleepy voice, when she had -shaken the recumbent shoulder a little and called his name -once or twice, “all right. Breakfast ready?”</p> - -<p>“Not yet—but ’twill be, in a jiffy. Goodness me, Mr. -Black, you certainly did give me a start! You must have -been tired to death, to sleep all night on the floor, so.”</p> - -<p>Black got stiffly to his feet. “I’m all right. Listen—what’s -that?”</p> - -<p>It was an early morning newsboy on the street outside, -stridently calling: “<i>Extry—extry!——</i>” What followed -was not distinguishable. Black, overcoming his stiffness -of limb in a hurry, got to the outer door, whistled loudly, -and secured a paper. When he came back all appearance -of sleep or weariness had fled from him.</p> - -<p>“We’re in, Mrs. Hodder, we’re in!” he was half shouting, -and his tone thrilled his middle-aged housekeeper. Long -afterward she was accustomed to say, when she told the -story: “I knew from that minute where <i>he’d</i> be. We’d -ought all have known it from the beginning, but I was so -dumb I never sensed it till that morning when he come<span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">[191]</span> -back with the paper, callin’ out so solemn—and yet so -happy-like—‘<i>We’re in, Mrs. Hodder, we’re in!</i>’ says he. -I guess he <i>was</i> in! That was a Saturday. And Sunday—he -gave us the sign! My, but I’ll never forget that!”</p> - -<p>The sign! Yes, that was what Black did give. All day -Saturday he was making possible the thing he had long -before determined he would do when the hour came. From -mill to shop he went, with orders and measurements; late -on Saturday evening he came out of the Stone Church alone, -locking the door behind him. His face was worn but not -unhappy, and that night he slept like a tired child, his -cheek upon his hand, his heart quiet and steady in his -breast.</p> - -<p>Next morning, when the people came into church, every -eye turned startled to one spot. At the right of the pulpit, -on the floor just below, lifted a straight and sturdy standard. -From it hung the American flag, its silken folds -motionless in the still air, yet seeming alive in the glory of -its vivid colour. Above it hung the only flag which held -the right to hang above the National emblem—that of the -Church Militant, the pure white pennant with its cross -of blue.</p> - -<p>In a brief service Robert Black, his face showing red and -white by turns with a restrained emotion he could not -wholly conceal, dedicated the two flags, and his people -had their first glimpse of what it might mean to him and -them before it should all be over and peace again upon the -earth. They couldn’t know that to him the real dedication -of the two flags had taken place the night before, when -alone in the church he had lifted them into place and knelt -before them, vowing anew his vow of allegiance and of -service to God and country, a vow never again to be -insecure upon his lips.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">[192]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XII<br /> - - -<small>EVERYBODY PLOTS</small></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">“MAY I come in?”</p> - -<p>Nan Lockhart hardly paused for permission to -enter Fanny’s room, so accustomed was she to share intimately -with her friend most of her possessions, including -rooms. Therefore she followed her knock and question -with her entrance—and paused upon the threshold with a -boyish whistle of surprise not unmixed with derision.</p> - -<p>Fanny turned away from the long mirror with a -little laugh. “Well, how do you like me in it?” she -inquired.</p> - -<p>“Oh, you’re stunning, of course,” Nan admitted. -“Trying on all the different forms of war service, to see -which is most becoming? You’ll let that decide it, of -course?”</p> - -<p>“Certainly, Miss Cynic! And why not? Shouldn’t a -girl make the most of herself, under all conditions?”</p> - -<p>Fanny had donned a white blouse and skirt, white shoes -and stockings, and had pinned a white towel about her -head. She had even gone to the trouble of cutting out a -small red cross and fastening it upon the front of her head-gear. -The towel did not entirely cover her hair; engaging -ringlets showed themselves about her small ears. She -resembled a fascinating young nun except that in her -eyes danced a most unconventional wickedness.</p> - -<p>“This is merely stage play, I suppose?” Nan questioned<span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">[193]</span> -dryly. “You’ve no possible thought of offering your -services, in towels or out of them?”</p> - -<p>Fanny Fitch swung herself up to the footboard of her -bed, and sat there, swinging her pretty feet. She smiled -at her friend disarmingly; but Nan did not disarm under -the smile.</p> - -<p>“You’re the most distrustful creature I ever knew, -Nancy Lockhart. Don’t you think I could get away with -the nursing proposition? Smooth the fevered brow, and -count the throbbing pulse, and charm the disordered brain -back to sanity and calm? Read aloud to——”</p> - -<p>“And wade around in floods of gore, and scrub the floor -of the operating room, and keep on working when your -back aches like fury, and get about four hours’ sleep out -of twenty-four? Wear your white uniform with the ward -below fifty degrees—and zero outside? Game, are you, -Fanny?”</p> - -<p>“Bless my soul!—how terribly technical you sound! -What do you know about it all?”</p> - -<p>“More than you do, I’ll wager. I’ve been reading -about an American girl who has been in it for two years -already. She ‘<i>wears the rue—with a difference</i>,’ methinks, -Fanny.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, well—I’ve got to get in it somehow,” announced -the wearer of the pseudo-uniform frankly. “Because, you -know, my friend Robert Black is going, and I can’t think -with serenity of the wide Atlantic rolling between us. Of -course there’s just one way I’d like to go, and maybe I’ll -achieve that yet.” Her eyes sparkled. “Ye gods, -but wouldn’t that be great! What’ll you wager I go—that -way?”</p> - -<p>“What way?”</p> - -<p>“As his—well—” Fanny seemed to be enjoying<span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">[194]</span> -herself intensely—“as his comrade-at-arms, you know—meaning, -of course, his—comrade <i>in</i> arms. Oh-h!”—she -gave the exclamation all the dramatic force it could -hold, drawing it out with an effect of ecstasy—“Think -of walking away with Robert McPherson Black from -under the very eyes of his congregation—and of the demure -but intriguing Jane!” And she threw both arms wide -in a gesture of abandon, then clasped them across her -breast, slipped down from the footboard, and fell at -Nan’s feet, looking up at her with beseeching eyes and an -utter change of aspect. “Oh, please, my dearest dear, -don’t put any spokes in my wheel! Let me just imagine -I’m doing something to bridge the chasm—the enormous -chasm between us. It’s a frightful thing to be so deeply, -darkly, desperately in love as I am—and then to see your -hero absorbed in plans to take himself away from you, out -of your world, with never a look behind!”</p> - -<p>“Fanny!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, but I’ll <i>make</i> him look behind—I will—I will! -I’ll turn those rapt black eyes of his back to the earth, -earthy—or to the United States, United States-y—and to -Fanny Fitch. And—I’ll keep Jane Ray home if I have -to put poison in her food.”</p> - -<p>“Fanny, get up!” Nan reached down and shook her -friend’s shoulders. “What on earth is the matter with -you? Have you gone crazy?”</p> - -<p>“I think so.” Fanny buried her head in Nan’s skirts, -clasping her arms about the other’s waist. “Raving -crazy. I met Mr. Black on the street just now. He was -rushing along with his wagon hitched to a star, by the -look of him. He didn’t even see me till he all but ran -into me. Of course I had put myself in his way. Then -he snatched off his hat, asked pardon and how I was, all<span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">[195]</span> -in the same breath—as if I had been one of his very oldest -old ladies—and got away like a catapult. He was going -in the direction of the station, I admit, but that wouldn’t -reasonably have prevented his exchanging a few friendly -words with me. Oh, I can stand anything—anything—but -having a man not even see me!”</p> - -<p>“So I should judge, my dear, from past experience,” -Nan commented, grimly. She had put her arms rather -reluctantly about Fanny, however; it was impossible not -to see that something, at least, of this hysteria was caused -by real feeling, if amazingly undisguised. She was quite -accustomed to Fanny’s self-revelations, and entirely used -to taking them without seriousness. But in the present -instance her sympathies were supplemented by her understanding -of how it might be quite possible for a girl to lose -her head over Robert Black without his being in the least -responsible by personal word or deed. She now endeavoured -to apply a remedy to the situation.</p> - -<p>“Fanny,” she said, “Mr. Black isn’t thinking about -anything just now but war, and how to get across. He -has lost those fine young nephews, whom he expected to -have come here when the war was over, and his mind is -full of them. He hasn’t a corner of his attention to give -to women—any woman——”</p> - -<p>“I’ve met him twice in the last week coming out of -Jane Ray’s. Of course Cary was with him one of the -times, and Doctor Burns the other—but that doesn’t -mean he hadn’t been confabbing with Jane. He’s wise -as a serpent, but I’m not at all sure he’s harmless as a dove—he’s -much too clever to be seen paying attentions to -any of us. He’s always with some man—you can’t get -at him. And when he comes here he has Tom hanging -round him every minute. Of course I know Tommy wants<span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">[196]</span> -to keep him away from me—but he appears to want to -be kept away, so I can’t so much as get a chance. If I -could—— But—I <i>will</i>!”</p> - -<p>Fanny sat back on her heels, wiping away a real tear -with the corner of her towel.</p> - -<p>“Of course you will, if you set out to do it. But—be -careful, my dear. Robert Black can’t be taken by storm.”</p> - -<p>“That’s the one way he can be taken. I might plot and -plan forever to make an impression on him in the ordinary -ways—he’s steel proof, I think, against those. The only -way to get his attention is the way this war has got it—by -shot and shell. If I can just somehow be badly -wounded and fall down in his path, he’ll—stoop and pick -me up. And if he once finds me in his arms——”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Fanny, Fanny! For heaven’s sake don’t try to -play a game with him!” Nan spoke sternly. She removed -herself by a pace or two from her friend, and stood -aloof, her dark brows drawing together. “I know you’re -a born actress and can assume any part you like. That -may be well enough in ordinary times—though I doubt it—but -not in times like these. Don’t go to war to play -the old game of hitting hearts. You’re not going to war—I -know that—but don’t pretend you want to. It isn’t -fair. This thing is one of life or death, and that’s what’s -taking men like Doctor Burns and Mr. Black into it. -They’ll have no use for anybody who doesn’t offer himself, -body and soul. That’s what Jane Ray is doing—but -not you, you know. You just want—to marry a -man.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, but you’re hard!” Fanny got to her feet, moved -over to the window and stood looking out, the picture of -unhappiness. “Jane Ray, indeed! How does it happen -you believe in her so fast? Why isn’t she playing a game,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">[197]</span> -too?—Of course she is. But because her hair is smooth -and dark, and her manner so sweetly poised, you take her -at her own valuation. She’s clever as Satan, and she’ll -put it over, I suppose. But why, just because I’m of a -different type, I must be forever accused of acting——”</p> - -<p>“My dear—I’m taking <i>you</i> at your own valuation. -Haven’t you explained to me exactly the part you intend -to play—getting badly wounded and falling down in -Robert Black’s path——”</p> - -<p>“You’re so intensely literal!” Fanny spoke bitterly. -“Heaven knows it will be no acting if I do get wounded. -I’m wounded now—to the heart. And if I fall down in -his path it’ll be because I can’t stand up. Last Sunday, -when he stood there under the colours—who <i>wouldn’t</i> -have wanted him? Why, even you—” she turned to -look full at Nan, with her reddened eyes searching Nan’s -grave face—“it wouldn’t take an awful lot of imagination -to put you in the same class with me, in spite of that -wonderful grip you always keep on yourself. Honestly, -now, can you tell me you wouldn’t marry him, if he asked -you?”</p> - -<p>Annette Lockhart was not of those who turn scarlet or -pale under cross-examination. Moreover, she was the -daughter of Samuel Lockhart and had from him the ability -to keep close hold of her emotions. She was entirely -accustomed to facing down Fanny Fitch when she did not -choose to reveal herself to her. Nevertheless, it may have -cost her the effort of her life to answer neither too vehemently -nor too nonchalantly this highly disconcerting -question.</p> - -<p>“You certainly must be a little mad to-day, my dear -girl. Just because you are so hard hit, don’t go to fancying -that the woods are full of the slain. I like Mr. Black<span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">[198]</span> -very much, but I’m not a case for the stretcher-bearers—nor -likely to be. And just now I’m wanting so much to -go myself, and know I can’t possibly, because Tom will, -and Father and Mother couldn’t face our both going at -once.”</p> - -<p>Fanny began suddenly to get out of her white apparel. -“I’m going round to see Jane Ray,” she announced, with -one of the characteristic impulses to whose expression Nan -was well used. “It’s best to make friends with the enemy -in this case, I think. And possibly I may meet Robert -Black—coming out or going in under cover of a man friend. -In that case I may receive one casual glance from His -Eminence which will complete my undoing for to-day. -That will surely be worth while.” She laughed unhappily.</p> - -<p>Half an hour afterward she walked into Jane Ray’s -shop. Her eyes were red no longer, her colour was charming, -her manner was composed. When Jane was at -liberty Fanny discussed “pie-crust” tables with her, declaring -her intention to present something of the sort to -Mrs. Lockhart.</p> - -<p>“I’ve made such a terribly long visit,” she explained, -“and still they urge me to stay on. Of course it’s wonderful -for me—with my mother so far away. But I shall only -stay till I can find out where to offer myself—if mother will -just say I may go. Poor dear, she has such a horror of war—she -may make it difficult for me. Meanwhile—I want to -take every possible step, so I can have every argument to -meet her with. If I could only go with someone—some -other girl—she might feel differently about it.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I should think that might help it,” Jane agreed. -Her dark eyes met Fanny’s lustrous blue ones across the -group of tables they had been considering. She was very<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">[199]</span> -much on her guard now wherever Miss Fitch was concerned. -The problem of the friendship between Nan -Lockhart, whom Jane couldn’t help liking and thoroughly -trusting, and Fanny Fitch, whom she could somehow -neither like nor trust, was one which she had as yet found -no means of solving. Also, Cary’s sudden and intense -interest in Fanny had set his sister to studying the girl -with new acuteness. Thus far she seemed to Jane all -actress; it was becoming increasingly difficult not to suspect -her constantly of being other than she seemed.</p> - -<p>“And yet we all act, more or less,” Jane said to herself -honestly. “I’m acting this very minute, myself. I’m -playing the part of one who is only politely interested in -what she means to do, while I’m really crazily anxious that -she shall not do certain things which involve Cary and me.”</p> - -<p>“I wonder if you would trust me with any of your own -plans,” Fanny said, engagingly. “I can’t help knowing -that you mean to go, and I’m sure you must have much -real knowledge that I’m ignorant of. Is nursing the only -thing a girl can do? You’re not trained for that, are -you? Forgive me—I’m not just curious, you know—I’m -tremendously serious.”</p> - -<p>“My plans aren’t fully worked out,” Jane answered. -“I have enough training to go as nurse’s assistant, under -the Red Cross.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, have you? How wonderful! Could I get that, -do you suppose? I’m really a terribly quick study—I -used to cram any amount of stuff in the forty-eight hours -before an exam, and get away with it. If I could—oh, -Miss Ray—would it be possible—would you be willing—<i>could</i> -you consider letting me go with you?”</p> - -<p>Jane looked into the sea-blue eyes which were looking -so appealingly into her own. “Yes,” she said to herself<span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">[200]</span> -again, “I can see exactly how you do it. That look is -absolutely irresistible—just angel-sweet and full of sincerity. -I wish I could trust you—I really wish I could. But -somehow—I can’t. Something inside me says that you -don’t mean it—you don’t—you’re not genuine. You’ve -some stake you’re playing for—you don’t care a copper -cent about helping over there. How am I going to deal -with you?”</p> - -<p>It’s odd, isn’t it? How do we do it—how do we keep -up this double discussion, one with our lips, the other with -our thoughts? Jane and Fanny went into the matter -rather thoroughly, talking with entire friendliness of -manner about possible courses to be followed, sources of -information to be consulted; and all the time the things -they both were thinking ran so far ahead in volume -and in direction of the things they were saying that there -could be no comparison between the two. Both were -much too well trained in worldly wisdom to allow the -smallest particle of personal antagonism to show in word -or manner, and yet as the talk proceeded each became more -and more aware that there was and could be no sympathy -or openness between them.</p> - -<p>And then Cary came dashing into the shop, and seeing -Fanny pounced upon her and bore her away with him for -a walk, vowing he should so soon be gone he must make -the most of every opportunity. Jane looked after them -as they went, wishing heartily that the day would come -quickly when Cary would be off and away. His plans -were rapidly taking shape; his old newspaper, after a -searching interview with him and a series of inquiries -directed toward establishing the thoroughness of his reformation, -had made him a sort of probational offer which he -had accepted with mingled glee and resentment.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">[201]</span>“They’ll send me, only with all kinds of conditions -attached which I’d never accept if I weren’t so wild to go. -But they’ll see—I’ll show them. Just let me send back -one rattling article from the real front, and they’ll be wiring -to tie me up to the thing for the duration of the war.” -Thus he had exultantly prophesied to his sister, and to -Robert Black, and to Red, and they had agreed that it was -certainly up to him. He had his chance—the chance to -retrieve himself completely; they were all three concernedly -eager to see him safely off upon his big adventure.</p> - -<p>He was so excited about it, so restless, so impatient for -the call which had been virtually promised him for an -early date, that they felt constrained to watch him carefully. -Without knowing exactly why, none of these -three friends quite liked to see him often with Fanny Fitch. -Jane herself was unwilling to appeal to Fanny, or to give -her even a vague idea of his past weakness; she now saw -them go away together with an uneasy feeling that she -wished it hadn’t happened.</p> - -<p>An hour later Cary telephoned that he wouldn’t be back -for dinner; he would take it in town, he said—he had some -equipment to look up. He might be back late—Jane was -not to sit up for him. He said nothing about Miss Fitch, -but Jane’s instant conviction was that the two were dining -together. Probably they would go to the theatre afterward -and come out on a late local. Well, what of it? -Fanny was no schoolgirl to need chaperonage; there was -nothing in this program to disturb anybody. But Jane -was disturbed. Suppose—well, suppose Fanny were the -sort of girl who didn’t object to having a cocktail—or a -glass of champagne—or both—at a hotel dinner alone -with a man? What would companionship on that basis -do for Cary, just now? She had no reason to suppose that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">[202]</span> -Miss Fitch was that sort of girl, and yet—somehow—she -felt that the chances were in favour of her being precisely -that sort of girl. Nan Lockhart’s friend—wasn’t that -voucher enough? Still, friends didn’t always know each -other as well as they supposed they did. And Fanny, -ever since she had dressed the part of the French actress -with such fidelity to fact, had seemed to Jane an over-sophisticated -young woman who wouldn’t much mind -what she did, so that she drew men’s eyes and thoughts to -herself. Excitement—that was what Fanny wanted, -Jane was sure. An excellent chance for it, too, dining -with a brilliant young war-correspondent, himself keyed -to high pitch over his near future. And if the play -chanced to be——</p> - -<p>A certain recollection leaped into Jane’s brain. She -went hurriedly to the back of the shop for the city daily, -and scanned a column of play offerings. Yes, there it -was—she remembered seeing it, and Cary’s laughing reference -to it at the breakfast table that morning, coupled -with the statement that he meant to see it. The play was -one of the most noted dramatic successes of the season, its -star one famous for her beauty and sorcery, and not less -than infamous for the even artistically unjustifiable note -she never failed to strike, its lines and scenes the last word -in modern daring. A great play for a man and woman to -see together, with wine before and after! And Cary could -not safely so much as touch his lips to a glass of the most -innocent of the stimulants without danger to that appetite -of his which was as yet only scotched, not slain. If anything -happened <i>now</i> to wreck his plans—what confidence -in him, what hope of him, could be again revived?</p> - -<p>After all, perhaps Jane was borrowing trouble. The pair -might have had only the walk they went for, Cary afterward<span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">[203]</span> -taking the train for town alone. On the impulse—what -did it matter whom she offended if she saved her -brother from his great temptation?—she went to the telephone -and called up the Lockhart residence. Was Miss -Fitch in? The answer came back promptly: Miss Fitch -was not in. She had not left word when she would be in, -but it was likely that she had gone into town, as she had -spoken of the possibility.</p> - -<p>Jane hung up the receiver with a heavy heart. Perhaps -her imagination was running away with her—she hoped -it was. But the conviction grew upon her that part, if -not all, of her supposition was likely to prove true. Fanny -Fitch might be quite above the kind of thing Jane was -imputing to her; it might be that Cary himself, aware of -the danger to his whole future of one false step now, would -be too thoroughly on his guard to take one smallest chance. -Hotel lobbies and cafés were always the meeting places of -newspaper men; he might easily be recognized by some -man who knew that he was upon probation; Cary understood -this perfectly; he would take care to run no risk. -Would he?</p> - -<p>Jane looked up the train schedule. Then she dressed -carefully, locked the shop, took the earliest train which -would get her to town, and tried to make plans on the way. -As to just what she meant to do she was not clear. If no -other way presented she felt that she must get hold of -Fanny herself and warn her of Cary’s susceptibilities and -the consequences of any weakening at this hour of his life. -And then what? Was there that in Fanny to be counted -on?</p> - -<p>All the way she was wishing for Robert Black! Just -what he could do she had no idea; that he would somehow -find a way she was certain. But it was small use wishing.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">[204]</span> -The next best thing would be to come upon Red Pepper -Burns, and this seemed not impossible, because he was -daily to be found in this city of which his own town was -the suburb; he did most of his operating at one of its hospitals. -What Red might do in the emergency she could -hardly imagine, either—but she was equally sure that he -would cut across all obstacles to force Cary out of possible -danger.</p> - -<p>To what hotel would Cary take Fanny? She could be -pretty sure of this—it was one at the moment highly -popular with the sociably inclined younger element of the -city, as well as with the floating class who pick out a certain -pronounced type of hostelry wherever they may go. -Rather more than moderately high prices, excellent food, -superlatively good music, a management astute beyond -the average—plus a general air of prosperity and good -fellowship—this makes the place for the gathering of -the clans who love what they call a good time, and who -have in their pockets—for the hour, at least—the money -to pay for it.</p> - -<p>Jane left her train in haste, crossed the big waiting-room -with quick glances to right and left in search of a possible -encounter, and at the outer door ran full upon someone -she had not been looking for but at sight of whom a light -of relief leaped into her face. Mrs. Redfield Pepper Burns -stood close beside the door, evidently waiting for someone. -Instantly Jane’s decision was made. She did not know -Mrs. Burns nearly as well as she did the red-headed doctor, -but she knew her quite well enough to take counsel with -her, sure that she would understand and help.</p> - -<p>“Mrs. Burns,”—Jane spoke rapidly and low—“please -forgive me for bothering you with my affairs. I may be -borrowing trouble, but I am anxious about my brother.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">[205]</span> -I think he is dining in town to-night at the Napoleon, and -may be going to a play. He is with Miss Fitch, I believe, -and I’m afraid she doesn’t understand that—just now—he -mustn’t take—any sort of stimulant. Doctor Burns -understands—perhaps you do, too—or will, from my telling -you this much. I wish—would it be too much?—to ask -you to stay and have dinner with me at the Napoleon, and -perhaps join Miss Fitch and Cary—or ask them to join us? -I can’t think just what else to do.”</p> - -<p>She had always deeply admired Ellen Burns; now, quite -suddenly, she found herself loving her. One long look -from the beautiful black eyes, one firm pressure from the -friendly hand, the sound of the low, warm-toned voice in -her ear, and she knew that she had enlisted a true friend.</p> - -<p>“My dear—just let me think. I believe we can do -even better than that.” A minute of silence followed, -then Mrs. Burns went on: “My husband and Mr. Black -are staying in together, to meet a quite famous -man from abroad. They were to have dinner together -first at——Wait—I’ll not stop to explain—Let me leave a -message here, and then we’ll take a cab and run back up -there. I’ve only just left them.”</p> - -<p>In the cab, five minutes later, Mrs. Burns worked out her -quickly conceived idea.</p> - -<p>“We’ll find my husband and Mr. Black, go to dinner at -the Napoleon, and ask your brother and Miss Fitch to join -us. Once Red knows the situation he will find a way to -get Mr. Ray off with them to meet the famous one, and you -and I will take Miss Fitch to the play. What is on to-night?” -She drew her lovely brows together. “Not—oh, -not that very unpleasant Russian thing?—Yes? Oh, we’ll -find something else—or go to a charming violin recital I -had half intended to stay in for. Don’t be anxious, Miss<span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">[206]</span> -Ray, we’ll work it out. And what we can’t think of Robert -Black will—he’s quite wonderfully resourceful.”</p> - -<p>Hours afterward, when, well towards morning, Jane -closed her eyes and tried to sleep, her mind refused to give -her anything to look at but a series of pictures, like scenes -in a well-staged play. Certain ones stood out, and the -earliest of these showed Mrs. Burns crossing a quiet reception -room to lay one hand on her husband’s arm, while her -eyes met frankly first his questioning gaze and then that -of Robert Black. Nothing could have been simpler than -her reasonable request of them. Might they change their -plans a bit, now that she had found Miss Ray, and all go -over to the Napoleon to dinner, to find Miss Fitch and Mr. -Ray? The hazel eyes of Red Pepper Burns had looked -deeply into his wife’s at this—he saw plainly that she was -definitely planning, with a reason. He was well used to -trusting her—he trusted her now. He nodded. “Of -course, dear,” he said.</p> - -<p>Robert Black came to Jane. “I think I understand,” -he said quietly. “We’ll all stand by.”</p> - -<p>They crossed the street together—Red went to interview -the head waiter. Within five minutes the four were -being led to a table at the very back of the room, close beside -one of those small recesses, holding each a table for -two, which are among the Napoleon’s most popular assets. -And then Mrs. Burns, looking across into the recess, had -nodded and smiled, and spoken to her husband, and he -had promptly gone across, and invited the pair there to -come over and be his guests.</p> - -<p>Cary had turned violently red, and had begun to say -stiffly and very definitely that his order had gone in, -and that it would be as well not to change, thank you, -when Robert Black came also into the recess, bowing in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">[207]</span> -his most dignified manner to Fanny Fitch. Somehow -Jane Ray had not known until that moment quite how -much dignity he could assume. “Ray,” he had said, in the -other’s ear, “I imagine you haven’t heard that Richard -Temple is here to-night—on his way back. Couldn’t you -cut everything else and go with me to hear him? There -won’t be such a chance again before we get across. I’m -sure Miss Fitch would excuse you. It’s a smoker, arranged -in a hurry. Nobody knew he was coming.”</p> - -<p>Well, that made all the difference. Call it luck, call it -what you will, that the great war-correspondent, the greatest -of them all up to that time, a man whom Cary Ray -would almost have given his right arm to meet, was passing -through the town that night. It had been another -man, more famous in a different line, an Englishman from -a great university, turned soldier, whom Black and Red -had stayed in town to meet. But the moment Black had -discovered Jane’s anxiety and its cause he had leaped at -this solution. The correspondent’s coming was an accident -owing to a train detention—he had arrived unheralded, and -the two men had but just got wind of it. They had been -saying, as Mrs. Burns and Jane came to the hotel, that -it was hard to have to choose between two such rich events, -and that they must look in on the smoker when the -Englishman had been heard. But now—Black had all at -once but one purpose in the world—to carry off Cary Ray -to that smoker, and to stay beside him till he was at home -again. That Cary would drink no drop while he, Robert, -was beside him, was a thing that could be definitely -counted on.</p> - -<p>It is possible that no point of view, in relation to the -remainder of the evening, could be better worth study than -that of Fanny Fitch. Sitting on the foot of Nan Lockhart’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">[208]</span> -bed at two o’clock that morning, she gave a dramatic -account of what had happened. Nan, sleepy enough at -first, and indignant with Fanny for waking her, found -herself wide awake in no time.</p> - -<p>“The perfectly calm and charming way in which Mrs. -Burns simply switched everything to suit Jane shows -plainly what an intriguer that girl is—precisely as I told -you. Oh, yes—Doctor Burns asked us over, and Robert -Black fixed Cary for the war-correspondent affair, and -Jane sat there looking as if butter wouldn’t melt in her -mouth. Both she and Mrs. Burns seemed merely lovely, -innocent creatures intent on distributing good to everybody! -But those men never would have thought of taking -Cary away from me if they hadn’t been put up to it; men -never conceive that sort of thing by themselves. That -dinner—oh, how I hated it! <i>Will</i> you tell me why Cary -Ray had to be pried loose from me, as if I were some kind -of vampire of the movie variety——”</p> - -<p>“But really, Fanny, Richard Temple <i>is</i> the one man -in the world Cary Ray ought not to miss hearing and meeting -just now. It would mean such a lot to him. And if -he was only there that one evening——”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I’ll admit that! But to hear Richard Temple -Cary Ray didn’t have to be moved over to the Burns table -and put in a high chair and have a bib tied round his neck! -He was furious himself when the change was proposed; -then of course he went delirious at hearing that the Temple -man was in town, and forgot his fury. He had to cancel -part of his order—worse luck; Mrs. Burns is the sort who -wouldn’t stand for iced tea if it was served in a champagne -glass!”</p> - -<p>“Fanny! You don’t mean——Why, surely you’ve been -told about Cary Ray. You wouldn’t let him——”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">[209]</span>“Good gracious, can’t the man stand alone by this time? -He’s going overseas—has he got to have a nurse along? -What’s having one little glass at a dinner with a girl like -me compared with the things men order when they’re alone -together? He’d better stay home if he isn’t——”</p> - -<p>“Yes, but—just now, when he’s on trial, and he might -so easily be held back! And besides, Fanny—you’re not—you -ought not——”</p> - -<p>“Oh, don’t preach! Haven’t I been a very model of -propriety? And am I not going to keep right on being -one, as long as there’s the least chance of—getting what I -want? You needn’t grudge me one little jolly evening -with a boy like Cary Ray, who comes nearer understanding -the sort of fire and flame I’m made of——”</p> - -<p>Nan Lockhart lay back upon her pillow. “Fanny,” -she said despairingly, “the best thing you can do is to go to -bed. When you begin to talk about your temperament -you make me want to give you a cold plunge and a rub-down, -and tie an ice-cap on your head. You’ve probably -been saved from helping Cary Ray make a fool of himself -at a time when he can’t afford to be a fool, and you’d -better be thankful. How you can imagine that a thing -like that would help you to find a place in Robert Black’s -good graces——”</p> - -<p>“Oh, it’s gentle Jane who’s ace-high with him just now, -of course!” Fanny pulled the hairpins out of her hair with -vicious twitches, letting the whole gleaming fair mass -fall upon the white silk of the luxurious little garment in -which she had enveloped herself before coming to Nan’s -room. “He’s the sort who was born to rescue the fallen, -and serve the anxious and troubled. He acted like a -regular knight to Jane—not that he said much to her, but -one could see. He was very nice to me—too nice. I’d<span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">[210]</span> -much prefer the Jane-brand of his chivalry—sort of an -I’ll-stand-in-front-of-you-and-take-the-blows effect. And -when he went off with Cary and Doctor Burns, and I was -left with those two women creatures——”</p> - -<p>“My dear, I can’t let you keep speaking of Mrs. Burns -that way. She’s one of the finest, sweetest——”</p> - -<p>“She’s a peach!” said Fanny, unexpectedly. “I admit -I’ve nothing against Mrs. Burns except that she took me -to a dismal violin recital when I’d awfully wanted to see a -perfectly ripping play Cary had tickets for.”</p> - -<p>“Not——”</p> - -<p>Fanny nodded. “Of course—why not, Miss Prudy? -I didn’t mind that so much, though. The thing I minded -was Jane Ray’s sleekness. She makes me think of one -of those silky black cats with yellow eyes——”</p> - -<p>But here Nan Lockhart sat up in bed, fire in her own -steel-gray eyes. “Fanny Fitch, that’s enough!” she said, -with low distinctness. “Jane Ray is my friend.”</p> - -<p>“I thought <i>I</i> was! This is so sudden!” And quite -unexpectedly, even to herself, Fanny Fitch began to cry, -with long, sobbing breaths. Nan slipped out of bed, -pulled on a loose gown hanging over its foot, and laid hold -of Fanny.</p> - -<p>“Come!” she commanded, firmly. “I’m going to put -you to bed and give Nature a chance to restore those absurd -nerves of yours. You don’t want Cary Ray, you -can’t have Robert Black, and you might just as well give -in and take that perfectly good lover of yours who has been -faithful to you all these years. He adores you enough to -put up with the very worst of you, and he ought to be -rewarded with the best of you. You know absolutely -that you’d be the most miserable girl in the world married -to a man of Mr. Black’s type——”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">[211]</span>Fanny drew a deep sigh, her head on Nan’s long-suffering -shoulder.</p> - -<p>“It’ll not be my fault if I don’t have a try at that sort of -misery,” she moaned. “And I’ll do it yet, see if I don’t! -I know a way!—Oh, yes! I know a way! Wait and see!”</p> - -<p>Nan Lockhart saw her finally composed for sleep, her -fair head looking like a captivating cameo against her -pillow, her white arms meekly crossed upon her breast. -Fanny looked up at her friend, her face once more serene.</p> - -<p>“Don’t I look good enough now for just anybody?” she -murmured.</p> - -<p>“You look like a young stained-glass angel,” Nan replied, -grimly. “But—since you were so unjust as to compare -Jane Ray to a silky <i>black</i> cat I’ll tell you that just -now you make me think of——”</p> - -<p>“I know—a sleepy white one—with a saucer of cream -near by. Good-night—saint! I don’t deserve you, but—I -love you just the same. And I dare you to tell me you -don’t love me!”</p> - -<p>“I’ll take no dares of yours to-night. Go to sleep—and -please let me, even if you don’t.” And Nan went away -and closed the door.</p> - -<p>Back in her own room, when she was once more lying -alone in the dark, Nan said to herself, with a sigh deeper -than any Fanny Fitch had ever drawn in all her gay young -life: “What a queer thing it is to be able to wear one’s -heart on one’s sleeve like that—and not even mind much -when the daws peck at it!”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">[212]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XIII<br /> - - -<small>A GREAT GASH</small></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">“CONFOUND you—pay some attention to me, will -you? Do you <i>get</i> what I’m saying? Everything’s -in train. I’ve only to take my physical examination—papers -came this morning, by the way—and get my -passports, and I’m off. For the love of heaven, what’s -the matter with you, Max Buller? Sitting there looking -like a mollusc—like a barnacle glued to a rock—and me -having transports all over the place! Don’t you know a -magnificently happy man when you see one—and can’t -you——”</p> - -<p>Red’s manner suddenly changed, as Dr. Maxwell Buller -looked up at him with an expression of mingled pain and -protest. Red’s voice softened, his smiling lips grew sober.</p> - -<p>“I beg your pardon, Max, old man,” he said. “You’re -in trouble, and I’m a blind ass—as usual. What’s the -matter? The Throckmorton case gone wrong, after all? -Or worse things befallen? Come—out with it!”</p> - -<p>Buller got up. He was Burns’ best friend in the profession—the -two had stood together since the earliest days -of medical school and hospital training. Buller was not -a brilliant member of the healing fraternity, but a steady-going, -conscientious, doggedly energetic practitioner on -whose sturdy friendship through all the thick and thin of -the regular grind Burns was accustomed to rely. Never a -crisis in the professional affairs of either man but he called<span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">[213]</span> -with confidence upon the bed-rock reliability of the other -to see him through.</p> - -<p>On this particular morning, Red, bursting with the -latest developments in the arrangements he was pushing -through in order to be able to get away and join Dr. John -Leaver at an American hospital in France, had rushed into -Buller’s office considerably before office hours. He had -shouted his plans into the other’s ears—so to speak—though -technically he had not much raised his voice above -its customary low professional pitch. The whole effect -of him, none the less, had been that of a boy roaring at a -comrade across several fences that he had been given a -holiday and was off for glorious sport. And here was his -trusty comrade-in-arms glowering gloomily back at him -and as good as saying that he grudged him his luck and -hoped he’d have the worst possible time of it. That wasn’t -a bit like Buller—good old Buller, who hadn’t a selfish -hair on his head, and knew no such thing as professional -jealousy where R. P. Burns was concerned. What in the -name of time was the matter with him?</p> - -<p>“I’d no idea,” said Buller, at last, and hesitating -strangely, “the thing had gone so far. I knew you thought -of going, but——”</p> - -<p>“But what? Haven’t I been talking going for the last -year and a half? And didn’t I call you up the other day -when I got Jack Leaver’s cable and tell you I meant to -put it through post-haste? Didn’t I——”</p> - -<p>“Yes, you’ve told me all about it. You’ll remember -that I’ve said a good deal about the need for you right -here, and my hope that you’d delay going a while yet. -I think I said——”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know what <i>you</i> said,” Red broke in impatiently, -interrupting Buller’s slower speech in a way to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">[214]</span> -which the other was well used. “I was much too busy -talking myself to notice what any idiot might be saying -on lines like those. Good Lord! man, you <i>knew</i> I’d go the -minute I got the chance. Why, I’m needed over there -about sixteen thousand times more than I am here——”</p> - -<p>Buller shook his head, his unhappy eyes on the worn rug -of his office floor. The shake of that head inflamed Red -into wild speech, his fist clenched and brought down on -Buller’s desk till bottles jumped and papers flew off into -space. Then, suddenly, he brought himself up short.</p> - -<p>“All right,” he growled. “I’ve blown off. Now—explain -yourself, if you can—which I doubt. But I can at -least give you the chance.”</p> - -<p>Buller cleared his throat. He ran his hand through -the rapidly graying locks above his anxious brow, sat down -at his desk again—as though it might be a little easier to -say what he had to say in this customary seat of the -judge delivering sentence—and looked unwillingly up at -his friend. Red had moved up and closed in on him as -he sat down, towering over the desk like a defiant prisoner.</p> - -<p>“Get it over,” he commanded briefly.</p> - -<p>“I’ll try to, Red, but—it’s hard to know how to begin.... -You—suppose you let me go over you, will -you?—as a sort of preliminary to the examination the -Government surgeons will give you.”</p> - -<p>“What for? Do you think I can’t pass? Is <i>that</i> what’s -bothering you?” A relieved laugh came with the words. -“Me?” He smote his broad chest with all the confidence -in the world—and Buller winced at the gesture. “Why, -I’m strong as an ox.”</p> - -<p>Buller opened a drawer and took out a stethoscope. -“Well—you won’t mind——” he said, apologetically, and -came around the desk as a man might who had to put a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">[215]</span> -pistol to the head of a beloved dog, and was dreading the -sound of the shot.</p> - -<p>“All right. But it’s about the foolest thing I ever knew -you to put up to me.” Red pulled off his coat, stripped -rapidly to the waist, and presented himself for the inquisition.</p> - -<p>Two minutes of absolute silence succeeded during which -Buller swallowed twice as if he were trying to get rid of his -own palate. Then he stood up with his hand on Red’s -shoulder.</p> - -<p>“I’m—awfully sorry, lad,” he said—and looked it, in a -fashion the other could not doubt.</p> - -<p>“What do you mean?”</p> - -<p>“Do you—remember that little trouble you had two -years ago?”</p> - -<p>“The—infection?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. It’s left its mark.”</p> - -<p>“What do you <i>mean</i>!”</p> - -<p>“You’re all right for good solid hard work—here. But -you aren’t quite in condition to meet the—requirements -of the Service. You—you couldn’t get by, Red.”</p> - -<p>Buller turned away, his chunky, square-fingered hand -slightly unsteady as he put away the little tell-tale apparatus -which had registered the hardest fact with which he -had ever had to confront a patient—and a friend. There -was a full minute’s silence behind him, while he deliberately -kept his back turned, unwilling to witness the first coming -to grips with the totally unsuspected revelation. Then:</p> - -<p>“Do you mean to say my heart isn’t all right?” came in -a queer, indignant tone which Buller knew meant only -one thing: that Red minded nothing at all about his -physical condition except as it was bound to affect the -course upon which he had set out.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">[216]</span>“Not—exactly.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, quit treating me like a scared patient. I know -you <i>think</i> you heard——”</p> - -<p>“I did hear it, Red. There’s no possible doubt. It’s -unquestionably the result of the infection of two years -ago. We all knew it then. I knew I’d find it now. -That’s why——”</p> - -<p>“I see. That’s why you’ve been advising me not to go. -My place was here—<i>knitting</i>!”</p> - -<p>Buller was silent. His broad, kind face worked a little -as the big figure crossed the room to the window. He -could look up now—Red’s back was toward him.</p> - -<p>“Doesn’t the amount of work I stand up under, every -earthly day and night, show that in spite of your blamed -old dissection I could do a good job over there before I -cash in—which, of course, may be indefinitely postponed? -Nobody knows better than you that a fellow can go on -working like a fiend for years with the rottenest sort of -heart, and never even suspect himself that there’s a thing -wrong——”</p> - -<p>“I know.” Buller’s voice was gentle as a woman’s. -“But—first you’ve got to pass the stiffest sort of Government -tests, Red—and——”</p> - -<p>“<i>And I can’t, eh?</i>”</p> - -<p>It was done—Max Buller’s job. He didn’t have to -answer that last question—which was no question, as he -well knew. There was finality in Red’s own voice; he had -accepted the fact. He knew too well the uselessness of -doubting Buller’s judgment—the other man was too well -qualified professionally for that. Red knew, also, as well -as if he had been told in plain language, precisely what his -own condition must be. Out of the race he was—that -was all there was to it. Still fit to carry heavy burdens,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">[217]</span> -capable of sustaining the old routine under the old terms, -but unfit to take his place among the new runners on the -new track, where the prize was to be greater than any -he had ever won. And his splendid body, at that very -minute, seemingly as perfect as it had ever been; every -function, as far as he himself could be aware, in the smoothest -running order! He could not even be more than usually -conscious of the beat of his own heart, so apparently -undisturbed it was by this intolerable news; while his -spirit, his unquenched spirit, was giving him the hardest -tussle of his life.</p> - -<p>Buller was wrong—he <i>must</i> be wrong! He was “hearing -things” that didn’t exist. Red wheeled about, the inconsistent -accusation on his lips. It died at sight of his -friend. Buller was slouched down in his swivel-chair, -his chin on his breast, his head propped on his hand. -Quite clearly Buller was taking this thing as hard—vicariously—as -Red himself—as Buller usually took -things that affected Red adversely. Oh, yes—the old -boy knew—he couldn’t be fooled on a diagnosis like that. -Red turned back to the window. It was all over—there -was no possible appeal....</p> - -<p>He went away almost immediately, and quite silently. -There had been no torrent of speech since the blow actually -went home. The red-headed surgeon with Celtic blood -in his veins could be quiet enough when there was no use -saying anything, as there certainly wasn’t now.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Two days later Robert Black, hurrying down the street, -traveling bag in hand, passed the office of Redfield Pepper -Burns just as the doctor’s car drew up at the curb. Black -turned, halted, and came up to the car. Red was sitting -still in it, waiting for him, the unstopped motor throbbing<span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">[218]</span> -quietly. Black hadn’t seen him for several days, but the -last he knew Red had been deep in his preparation for an -early departure. It was on Black’s lips to say, “How’s -everything coming on?”—knowing that no other subject -had any interest for Red compared with that. But Red -spoke first.</p> - -<p>“You’ve got to know sooner or later,” he said, in his -gruffest tone, “so you might as well know now. I’m not -going over. That’s all. Can’t stop to talk about it.” -And he set hand to gear-shift, and with a nod was off again, -leaving Black standing looking after him, feeling as if -something had hit him between the eyes.</p> - -<p>As he walked on, after a moment, his mind was busy -with the impressions it had received in that brief encounter. -Red’s face had been set and stern; it was often -that when he was worn with work over more than usually -hard cases. His eyes had looked straight at Black with -his customary unevasive gaze, but—there had been something -strange in that look. He was unhappy—desperately -unhappy, there could be no doubt about that. What -could have happened so suddenly to put a spoke in the -rapidly turning wheels of his plans? Black fell to puzzling -over it, himself growing every moment more disturbed. -He cared tremendously what happened to Red; he found -himself caring more and more with each succeeding -thought about it.</p> - -<p>He was on his way to the station, to take a train for a -distant city, where was to be held a reunion of his seminary -class in the old halls of their training. He had been looking -forward to it for weeks, in expectation of meeting certain -classmates whom he had not seen for six years, and -some of whom he might never meet again. He had been -exchanging letter after letter with them about it, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_219">[219]</span> -anticipating the event with the ardour with which most -men look forward to such reunions at that period in life. -There was nothing to do but go, of course; though by now -he was longing intensely to follow up Red, by some means, -and find out what was the matter. He hadn’t liked the -look in those hazel eyes, usually so full of spirit and purpose; -the more he thought about it the surer he grew that -Red was at some crisis in his life, and that he needed something -he hadn’t got to help him face it. Of course he must -be horribly disappointed not to be going across, oh, desperately -disappointed! But there was more than that -in the situation to make him look like that, Black was -sure of it.</p> - -<p>His feet continued to move toward the station, his eyes -lifting to the clock upon its tower, which warned him that -he must lose no time. He had his ticket and a sleeper -reservation—it was fifteen hours’ journey back to the -old ivy-covered halls which had grown dearer in his memory -with each succeeding year of his absence. He was thinking -that he couldn’t disappoint Evans, his best friend, or -Desboro, his old college chum who was going to China -on the next ship that sailed; such appointments were -sacred—the men would never quite forgive him if he threw -them over. But this he could do: he could go on for -the dinner which was to take place the following evening, -and then catch a late train back, cutting the rest -of the program, and reaching home again after only forty-eight -hours’ interval; he had expected to be absent at -least five days. No, he couldn’t, either. Desboro was -on for an address, that second evening, for which he -had expressed particular hope that Black would remain. -Desboro was a sensitive chap and he was going to China. -Well—what——</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">[220]</span>His train had been called; those determined feet of his -took him toward it, though his mind was now slowing them -perceptibly. And then, suddenly, his will took charge -of the matter—his will, and his love. He loved Red -Pepper Burns—he knew it now, if he had not fully known -it before; loved him even better than he did Desboro, or -Evans, or any of the rest of them for whom he had cared -so much in the old days. And Red was in trouble. Could -he leave him to go on to hear Desboro’s speech, or wring -Evans’ hand, or even to hear a certain one of his adored -old professors say: “I’m especially glad to see you, Black—I -want to hear all about you——” a probability he -had been happily visualizing as worth the trip, though he -should get nothing more out of it.</p> - -<p>He turned about face with determination, his decision -made. What was a class reunion, with all its pleasures—and -its disappointments, too—compared with standing -by a friend who needed him? The consciousness that Red -was quite as likely to repel as to welcome him—more -likely, at that—lent no hesitation to his steps. He went -back to the ticket windows, succeeded in getting his money -returned, and retraced his steps to the manse even more -rapidly than he had come away from it. It was only -as he let himself in at the door that he remembered that -his little vacation was Mrs. Hodder’s as well, and that at -his insistence she had left early that morning. He grinned -rather ruefully at this thought; so it was to be burned -toast and tinned beans again, instead of banquet food! -Well, when a fellow was making sacrifices for a friend, let -him make them and not permit the thought of a little lost -food to make him hesitate. Banquets—and beans—interesting -alliteration! And now—to find out about Red -without loss of time.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">[221]</span>Ten minutes later he was in Red’s home, standing, hat in -hand, before Mrs. Burns, who had come to him without delay.</p> - -<p>“I saw your husband just a minute this morning, and he -told me it was all off with his going to France. That’s -all he said—except that he had no time to talk about it. -Of course I understood that he didn’t want <i>me</i> to talk about -it. But something in his looks made me a little anxious. -I thought you wouldn’t mind my coming to you. If you -don’t want to tell me anything more, Mrs. Burns, that’s -all right. But I wanted you to know that if anything has -happened to make him—or you—unhappy, I care very -much. And I wish I could help.”</p> - -<p>Ellen Burns looked up into his face, and saw there all -that one could wish to see in a friend’s face when one is in -trouble. She answered as frankly as he had spoken, and -he couldn’t help seeing that his coming was a relief to her.</p> - -<p>“I’m going to tell you, Mr. Black,” she said. She -remained standing; Black thought it might be because she -was too ill at ease in mind to think of sitting down. “I -am anxious about Red, too, because he doesn’t seem at all -himself, since this happened. Two days ago his good friend -Doctor Buller told him there was no chance of his passing -the physical tests necessary for getting across, on account -of trouble with his heart—which he hadn’t even -suspected. He was very ill with blood poisoning two -years ago. The disappointment has been even greater -than I could have imagined it would be; he has never set -his heart on anything as he has on this chance to be of -service in France. Of course I am disappointed, too—I -meant to follow him soon, when we could arrange it. -And—it goes without saying—that the reason which -keeps him is a good deal of a blow to me.”</p> - -<p>“Yes—of course.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">[222]</span>She was speaking very quietly, and with entire control -of voice and manner, and the sympathetic understanding -in his tone did not undermine her, because there was no -weakness in it.</p> - -<p>“But—we have accepted it; there’s nothing else to do. -Doctor Buller says it doesn’t mean that Red can’t go on -working as hard as ever, for a long time—here. But that -doesn’t help him any, just yet. He has been in—a mood—so -dark ever since he knew, that even I can’t seem to -lighten it. And just before you came I found—this. -It—does make me anxious, Mr. Black, because I don’t -quite know——”</p> - -<p>She put her hand into a fold of her dress and brought -out a leaf from the daily memorandum pad with a large -sized date at the top, which was accustomed to lie on Red’s -desk. He was in the habit of leaving upon it, each time he -went out, a list of calls, or a statement regarding his whereabouts, -that his office nurse or his wife might have no difficulty -in finding him in case of need. In the present instance -the page was well covered with the morning and -afternoon lists of his regular rounds, including an early -morning operation at the hospital. But the latest entry -was of a different character. At the very bottom of the -sheet, in the only space left, was scrawled the usual preliminary -phrase, followed by a long and heavy dash, so -that the effect of the whole was inevitably suggestive of a -reckless mood: “Gone to ——”</p> - -<p>Black studied this for some seconds before he lifted his -eyes. “It may mean nothing at all,” he said, as quietly -as Mrs. Burns had spoken, “except the reflection of his -unhappiness. I can’t think it could mean anything else. -Just the same”—and now he looked at the lovely face -before him, to see in it that he might offer to do anything<span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">[223]</span> -at all which could mean help for Red—“I think I’d like -to find him for you—and I will. I’m sure I can, even -though you don’t know where he has gone. Can you -guess at all where it might be?”</p> - -<p>“He had the car,” she said, considering, “and he’s very -apt, when things have gone wrong, to get off out of doors -somewhere—alone—though he’s quite as likely to work -off his trouble by driving at a furious pace over miles and -miles of road. I’ve known him to jump out of the car and -dash off into the woods, in some place I’d never seen -before, and come back all out of breath and laughing, and -say he’d left it all behind. I think, perhaps, that’s what -he’s doing now. I hope he’ll come back laughing this time, -though I—I can’t help wishing he’d taken me with him.”</p> - -<p>“I wish he had.” Black thought he had never seen a -woman take a thing like this with so much sense and courage. -How could Red have left her behind, he wondered, -just now, when she could do so much for him? Or—couldn’t -she? Could any woman, no matter how finely -understanding, do for him quite what another man could—a -man who would know better than any woman just what -it must mean to have the foundations suddenly knocked -out from under him like that? “But,” he went on quickly, -“I don’t think it will be difficult to find him because—there’s -a way. And I’m going now, to try it. Don’t be -worried. I have a strong feeling that your husband is -coming out of this a bigger man even than when it hit -him—he’s that sort of man.” He was silent an instant, and -then went on: “And he won’t do anything God doesn’t -mean him to do—because he isn’t <i>that</i> sort of man. He’s -not afraid of death—but he isn’t afraid of life, either. -Good-bye—it’s going to be all right.”</p> - -<p>They smiled at each other, heartened, both, by the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">[224]</span> -thought of action. Black got away at once. It was, by -now, well after six o’clock. He had had no dinner, but it -didn’t occur to him to look out for food before he started -on the long walk he meant to take. For, somehow, he was -suddenly quite sure he knew where to go....</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He had guessed right. Was it a guess? As he had -walked at his best speed out of the town and over the highway -toward the road upon which Red had taken him that -winter night, months ago, he had been saying over and -over, “Don’t let me be wrong, Lord—you know I’ve <i>got</i> -to find him!” He was remembering something Red had -said when he first led him up the trail and out upon the -rocky little plateau: “This is a place I’ve never brought -anybody to—not even my wife, as it happens—and probably -wouldn’t be bringing you if we had time to go farther. -I come here sometimes—to thrash things out, or get rid -of my ugly temper. The place is littered with my chips.”</p> - -<p>He recalled answering, “All right, Doctor. I won’t be -looking for the chips.” But he had thoroughly appreciated -being brought to the spot at all, recognizing it for one of -those intimate places in a man’s experience which he keeps -very much to himself. Where, now, would Red be so -likely to go if he had something still to “thrash out,” -after the two days of storm following the shock of Doctor -Buller’s revelation?</p> - -<p>At the bottom of the hill, well-hidden in a thicket of -trees, Black came upon the car—and suddenly slowed his -pace. He was close upon Red, then, and about to thrust -himself in where he was pretty sure not to be wanted—at -first. He meant to make himself wanted, if he knew how. -Did he know how? Ah, that was where he must have help. -It was going to take more than human wisdom, thus to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_225">[225]</span> -try to deal with the sore heart, the baffled spirit, of the -man who couldn’t have his own way at what doubtless -seemed to him the greatest moment of his life. Black -stopped short, close to a great oak, and put up his arm -against it, and hid his face in his arm, and asked God -mightily that in this hour He would use His servant’s -personality as He would use a tool in His workshop, and -show him how to come as close and touch as gently—and -withal as healingly—as it might be possible for human -personality to do when backed and reinforced by the -Divine. A pretty big request? Yes, but the need was -big. And Black didn’t put it in any such exalted phrasing—remember -that. What he said was just this: “Please -let me help. I <i>must</i> help, for he needs me—and I don’t -know how. But You do—and You can show me.”</p> - -<p>Then, after a minute, he went on, springing up the trail, -which was plain enough now, even in the fading daylight, -to be easily followed. As he reached the top he came in -sight of Red through the trees, and stopped short, not so -much to regain his breath as because the sight of the man -he had come to find made his heart turn over in sympathy, -and for that instant he couldn’t go on.</p> - -<p>Yet Red was in no dramatic attitude of despair. To -the casual eye he would have looked as normal as man -could look. He sat upon a log—one of two, facing each -other, with a pile of blackened sticks and ashes between, -reminiscent of past campfires. There had been no fire -there recently—no spark lingered to tell the tale of warmth -and light and comradeship that may be found in a fire. -And what Red was doing was merely whittling a stick. -Surely no tragedy was here, or fear of one.... The -thing that told the tale, though, unmistakably, to Black’s -sharpened eyes, was this: that the ground was littered<span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">[226]</span> -deep, all about Red’s feet, with the fresh whittlings of -many sticks. “Chips,” indeed! Chips out of his very -life, Black knew they were; hewed away ruthlessly, with -no regard as to what was left behind in the cutting, or what -was made thereof.</p> - -<p>He could not stand and look on, unobserved, of course. -So he came on, striding ahead; and when Red at last looked -up it was to see Black advancing confidently, as a friend -comes to join a friend. Red stared across the space; his -eyes looked dazed, and a little bloodshot.</p> - -<p>“I’ve come,” said Black, simply, “because, Red, I -thought you needed me. Maybe you don’t want me, but -I think you need me, and I’m hoping you won’t send me -away. I don’t think I’ll go if you do.”</p> - -<p>Red’s odd, almost unseeing gaze returned to the stick -in his hand. He cut away two or three more big chunks -from it, leaving it an unsightly remnant; then flung it -away, to join the other jagged remnants upon the -ground.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” he said, in a hoarse voice quite unlike his own, -“I guess maybe I do.”</p> - -<p>Black’s heart leaped. He had not expected a reception -like this. To be kicked out—metaphorically—or to be -ungraciously permitted to remain—that was the best he -could have hoped for. He sat down upon the other -log, took off his hat and ran his hand through the locks -on his moist brow; he was both warm and tired, but he -was not in the least conscious of either fact. All he knew -or cared for was that he had found his man—and had his -chance at last! And now that he had it—the chance he -had so long wanted, to make this man he loved his friend -forever—he was not thinking of that part of his wish at -all. He had got beyond that; all he wanted now was to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">[227]</span> -see him through his trouble, though it might make him -less his friend than ever.</p> - -<p>The two sat in silence for a minute. Then Red spoke. -With an odd twist of the mouth he pointed to an axe -lying at the foot of a tree not far away. Above it, in -the trunk, showed a great fresh gash, the beginning of a -skilled woodsman’s work upon a tree which he means to -fell.</p> - -<p>“I began to chop down that tree,” he said, in the same -queer, hoarse voice. “That’s what I’ve always done—when -the pressure got too high. Then—I remembered. -If I chopped it down, I might—end things. There’s no -telling. Buller says my machinery’s got past the chopping -point—it’s time to take to whittling. So—I’m whittling—as -you see.”</p> - -<p>“I see,” said Black. He spoke cheerfully—there was -no pity in his voice. In his eyes—but Red was not looking -at those.</p> - -<p>“That’s why,” went on Red, after a minute, “I’m not -going to France. They don’t need whittlers over there.”</p> - -<p>“Do you think you’re a whittler?”</p> - -<p>“What else?”</p> - -<p>“You don’t look much like one—to me.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t say that to me!” challenged Red, with a touch -of the old fire. “There’s no cure for my hurt in the -thought that I can keep on working—over here—until -the machinery breaks down entirely—which may not be -for a good while yet. I want what I want—and I can’t -have it. What I can have’s no good compared with -that. It may look good to you—it doesn’t to me. That’s -all there is of it.”</p> - -<p>“You don’t look like a whittler to me,” Black repeated, -sturdily. “You look like a tree chopper. I can’t—and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_228">[228]</span> -won’t—think of you any other way.... I wish you’d -put up that knife!”</p> - -<p>Red stared at him. “Make you nervous?” he questioned.</p> - -<p>“It makes <i>you</i> nervous. Put it up. Play with the -axe, if you like; that’s more in character.”</p> - -<p>The two looked each other in the eye for a minute. -The clear gaze of Black met the bloodshot one of Red.</p> - -<p>“Here—I’ll get it for you,” offered Black, and got up -and went over and picked up the axe, its blade shining, its -edge keen as one of Red’s instruments. Black ran his -fingers cautiously along it. “I suppose no surgeon ever -owned a dull axe,” he commented, as he brought it to -Red. “This would cut a hair, I think. Take it—and -put up the knife to please me, will you?”</p> - -<p>“Anything to oblige.” Grimly Red accepted the axe, -snapped the knife shut and dropped it into his pocket. -“Anything else? Going to preach to me now with the axe -for a text?”</p> - -<p>“I think so. I’m glad you’re ready. But the axe won’t -do for a text—nor even for an illustration. I’ve got that -here.” He put his hand to his pocket and drew out a -little, worn, leather-bound Book, over which he looked -with a keen, fearless gaze at Red. “See here,” he said. -“I could try a lot of applied psychology leading up -to this little Book—and you’d recognize, all the way, that -that was what I was doing. What’s the use? When you -go to see a patient, and know by the look of him and the -few things he tells you what’s the matter, you don’t lead -up by degrees to giving him the medicine he needs, do -you? Not you! You write your prescription on the -spot, and say ‘Take this.’ And he takes it and gets -well.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_229">[229]</span>“Or dies—if I’m out of luck. It isn’t the medicine that -decides it, either way. It’s his own power of resistance. -So your simile’s no good.”</p> - -<p>Black nodded. This sounded to him somewhat more -like the old Red. “Yours is, then,” he said. “It’s your -power of resistance I’m calling on. You used it just now—when -you stopped chopping at that tree. Do you think -I don’t know—you wanted to keep on, and take the possible -consequences—which you almost hoped—or thought -you hoped—would be the probable ones?”</p> - -<p>And now Red’s startled eyes met his. “My God!” he -ejaculated, and got to his feet quickly, dropping the axe. -He strode away among the trees for a minute, then came -slowly back.</p> - -<p>“Do you think, Bob Black,” he demanded, “you dare -tackle a case like mine? I see you know what I’m up -against. Do you imagine there’s anything in that Book -there that—fits my case?” And Black saw that his -eyes looked hungrily at the little Book—as men’s eyes -have looked since it was given shape. When there is -nowhere else to go for wisdom, even the most unwonted -hands open the Book—and find there what they honestly -seek.</p> - -<p>“I know there is.” Black opened the Book—it fell open -easily, as one much used. He looked along its pages, as -one familiar with every line. It took but a moment to -find the words he sought. In a clear, quiet voice he read -the great, brave words of Paul the apostle:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“Know ye not that they which run in a race run all, but one -receiveth the prize? So run, that ye may obtain.</p> - -<p>And every man that striveth for the mastery is temperate in -all things. Now they do it to obtain a corruptible crown; but -we an incorruptible.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">[230]</span>I therefore so run, not as uncertainly; so fight I, not as one -that beateth the air:</p> - -<p>But I keep under my body, and bring it into subjection, lest -that by any means, when I have preached to others, I myself -should be a castaway.”</p> -</div> - -<p>A long silence followed the reading of these words. -Suddenly it had seemed to Robert Black that nothing he -could say could possibly add to the splendid challenge of -them to a flagging human spirit. Almost immediately -upon reading the last word he had walked away—he had -risen to read them, as if such words could be said only by a -man upon his feet. He was gone for perhaps ten minutes, -and all the while his heart was back there by the ashes of -the dead campfire with Red—fighting alone, as a man -must fight, no matter how his friend would help him. -Somehow Black was sure that he <i>was</i> fighting—it was -not in Red—it couldn’t be—to lay down his arms. -Or, if he had in this one black hour laid them down, it -would be to take them up again—it <i>must</i> be so. All -Black’s own dogged will, plus his love and his faith in God -and in this man, were back there in the woods with -Red.</p> - -<p>By and by he went back himself. Red was no longer -sitting on the log, he was standing by a tree, at the edge -of the plateau, looking off through a narrow vista at the -blue hills in the distance all but veiled now in the dimness -of the coming night. At the sound of Black’s footsteps -on the snapping twigs he turned.</p> - -<p>“Well, lad,” he said, in a weary voice which was yet -quite his own, “I guess you’ve won out over my particular -personal devil this time. I <i>have</i> ‘preached to others’—I -expect I’ve got to stand by my own preaching now. It’s -all right. I’d got too used to having my own way—or<span class="pagenum" id="Page_231">[231]</span> -forcing it—that’s all. I’ll try to take my medicine like -a man. I’ve been taking it—like a coward. Now—we’ll -say no more about it.”</p> - -<p>“Not another word. Except—would you mind if I -built a little fire, and burned up those chips?”</p> - -<p>“I wish you would.”</p> - -<p>With quick motions Black made a heap of them on the -old campfire ashes, touched them off with the match Red -silently handed him—he had matches of his own, but he -took Red’s—and stood looking down into the curling -flames. The chips burned as merrily and brilliantly as if -they had not been the signs of human despair, and the -two men watched till the small fire had burned down to a -last orange glow of embers.</p> - -<p>Then Black, taking off his hat, said in a way so simple -that the listening ears could not want to be stopped from -the sound of the words: “Please, Lord, help us to run, -‘<i>not uncertainly</i>,’ nor fight, as those that ‘<i>beat the air</i>.’ -Give us faith and courage for the long way—and bring us -to the end of the course, by and by—but not till we have -‘<i>run a good race</i>’—all the way. Amen.”</p> - -<p>Still silently, after that, the two went down the trail, -now in deep shadow. Red went first, to lead the way, -and Black noted with joy that he plunged along down the -trail with much his old vigour of step. At almost the bottom -he suddenly halted and turned:</p> - -<p>“See here, Bob Black,” he said, accusingly. “I thought -you were on your way to the station when I saw you this -morning. Weren’t you off for those doings at your old -Alma Mater you’ve been counting on?”</p> - -<p>“I changed my mind.”</p> - -<p>“What! After you saw me?”</p> - -<p>“Of course.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_232">[232]</span>There was an instant’s stunned silence on the red-headed -doctor’s part, broken by Black’s laugh.</p> - -<p>“One would think you never gave up a play or a good -dinner or almost anything you’d wanted, to go and set a -broken leg—or to reduce a dislocated shoulder before -breakfast!”</p> - -<p>But when Red finally spoke the hoarseness was back -in his voice—only it seemed to be a different sort of -hoarseness:</p> - -<p>“What did you do it for?”</p> - -<p>“I think you know. Because I wanted to stand by -you.”</p> - -<p>Red turned again, and began to go on down the trail. -But at the bottom he once more stopped short.</p> - -<p>“Lad,” he said, with some diffidence, “there’s a story -in that Book of yours—the other part of it—that always -interested me, only I didn’t think there were many examples -of that sort of standing by in present days. I -begin to think there may be one or two.”</p> - -<p>“Which story is that?” Black asked, eagerly—though -he concealed the eagerness.</p> - -<p>“That—I’ll have to leave you to guess!” said the other -man—and said not another word all the way home. He -sent the car at its swiftest pace along the road, took Black -to his own door, held his hand for an instant in a hard -grip, said “Good-night!” in his very gruffest tone, and -left him.</p> - -<p>But Black had guessed. And he had won his friend—for -good and all, now—he was sure of that. How could -it be otherwise?</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_233">[233]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XIV<br /> - - -<small>SOMETHING TO REMEMBER</small></h2> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><span class="smcap">My dear Robert Black</span>:—</p> - -<p>Where do you suppose your letter reached me, telling me of -your rapidly maturing plans to go to France? At a place not -fifty miles away from you, where I have taken a small seaside -cottage for the summer! Yes, I did it deliberately, hoping it -might mean that I should see you often—for I have missed you -more than I quite venture to tell you. And now—I am not to -see you after all, for you are to be off at almost any time. My -disappointment is as great as my pride in you—and my joy that -you are responding to this greatest need of our time. I know you -will fully understand this seeming paradox.</p> - -<p>Since I have no son to send—and you no mother to send you—and -since, as you well know, you have come to seem more like a -son to me than I could have thought possible after the loss of my -own—won’t you spend at least a day with me—right away, lest -your summons to join your regiment arrive sooner than you -expect? Please wire or telephone me—as soon as you receive -this, won’t you?—that you are coming. I have my faithful -Sarah with me, so you are assured of certain good things to eat -for which I recall your fondness. But I am very sure that -I do not have to bribe you to do this kind thing for an old -woman who cares for you very much. I know that Scotch -heart of yours—cool enough on the outside to deceive the very -elect, but warm within with a great friendliness for all who -need you.</p> - -<p>With the belief that a long talk together will do away with the -need for a further exchange of letters just now, I am, as always,</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="indentright">Faithfully and affectionately yours,</span><br /> - -<span class="smcap">Marie L’Armand Devoe</span>.</p> -</div> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_234">[234]</span>Sitting on the edge of his study desk Black had -eagerly read this letter, written in a firm hand full of -character, not at all indicative of its being the penmanship -of “an old woman.” His face had lighted with pleasure, -and he had laid the letter down only to turn to consult -his schedule of work for the week. This was Monday, -the only day he was accustomed to try to keep free for -himself—usually with small success, it must be acknowledged. -But at least there was no engagement for the -evening, and it was the only evening of the week of which -that could be said.</p> - -<p>During the next half-hour he did some telephoning, -held a brief interview with Mrs. Hodder, wrote a short -letter, then was off for his train. He had decided to take -a local into the city earlier than was necessary to make -his connection, in order that he might be safely away before -anything happened to detain him. This would give -him an hour to spare there before he could get the second -train, which would bring him within walking distance of -the little seaside village and his friend’s new summer home. -He would call her up from the city; he had not yet had -time to do it. He was glad of the extra hour in which to -draw breath and congratulate himself that this Monday -was to be a real day of rest. He was obliged to admit to -himself that it would taste rather good. What with -preaching and parish work doggedly kept up to the customary -standard, while he had been at the same time deep -in the involved details of securing his chance to go overseas—which -now was practically assured—he was feeling -just a trifle played out on this warm July morning.</p> - -<p>Turning a corner just before he reached the station, -he came suddenly upon Jane Ray. Though her answering -smile was bright enough, he thought he saw in her face<span class="pagenum" id="Page_235">[235]</span> -a reflection of the weariness of which he himself was momently -more conscious. The heat for several weeks now -had been unusually trying. Jane had been quite as -busy as Black himself with the arranging to dispose of her -business preparatory to going abroad. She, too, had found—or -made—her chance. It looked as if she might get -off before any of them—except Cary, who was due to go -now at any time.</p> - -<p>Black stopped short, in the shade of a great elm.</p> - -<p>“I haven’t seen you for two weeks,” he said. “That -ought to be excuse enough for stopping you now? I -suppose you know I’ve been around twice—only to find -the shop locked, and the bell apparently out of commission, -for it produced nobody.”</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry,” protested Jane. “I found your card both -times. If I hadn’t been so busy——”</p> - -<p>“I know.” He looked searchingly down into her face, -and it seemed to him it certainly looked a little worn. -Perhaps it was the lavender of the crisp linen dress which -sent trying reflections into her usually warm-tinted cheeks. -Perhaps it was the excessive heat, which incidentally was -doing its best to make her smooth hair curl riotously about -her ears in a particularly girlish fashion. “Yes, we’ve -both been busy,” he agreed. “But that doesn’t make two -weeks seem any shorter to me. I’m going out of town -for the day, but with your permission I’ll try that doorbell -soon again. All at once, some day, either you or -I will get that call, and then—think of all the things we’ll -wish we had had time to say!”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps! Meanwhile, if you’re catching the 9:30, -Mr. Black, let me warn you that the station clock is two -minutes slow. I lost a train by it only yesterday.”</p> - -<p>Thus she had sent him off, for even as she spoke the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_236">[236]</span> -whistle of the approaching local was heard down the line, -and Black had only time to take a hasty leave of her and -run to the platform, with no chance to buy his ticket.</p> - -<p>Standing on the rear platform, as the train went on—the -inside of the car had been unbearably hot—he -looked back down the long street and caught a glimpse of -Jane’s lavender linen disappearing in the distance. He -strained his eyes to see it, visualizing clearly the face into -which he had just been looking. It was a face which had -a way of coming before that vision of his many times when -he was attempting to occupy himself with necessary work, -and of interfering seriously, now and then, with his powers -of concentration. There was something about the level -lines of Jane’s eyebrows, the curve of her cheek, the shape -of her mouth, which peculiarly haunted the memory, he -had found. It was astonishingly easy, also, to recall the -tones of her somewhat unusual voice, a voice with a ’cello-like -low resonance in it; easy to recall it and easier yet -to wish to hear it again. He found himself suffering from -this wish just now, and rather poignantly.</p> - -<p>Whose fault was it that he had not seen Jane for two -weeks? Since she must have known by his two calls that -he wanted to see her, why hadn’t she let him know he -might come again? The time was getting so horribly -short—the call for one or other of them might come so -soon. And then what? He was realizing keenly that -when the chance of turning a corner and meeting her, of -going to her shop and seeing her, of calling her upon the -wire and hearing her—was gone, perhaps forever—well—suddenly -the thought became insufferable. He must do -something about it, and that at once! He must do it to-day. -What could it be, since he was on his way out of -town?</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_237">[237]</span>His thoughts went on rapidly. He made a plan, a daring -one—rejected it as too daring—decided that it wasn’t -half daring enough! What was the use of never doing -anything because there might be some possible and remote -reason why it wasn’t best? This infinite and everlasting -caution suddenly irked him—as it had many times before -in his experience—irked him till it became unbearable. -He would carry out his plan—his end of it. If Jane -wouldn’t carry out her end—— Well, anyhow he would -put it up to her. Thank heaven, he had that hour to -spare; it made possible the thing he had in mind.</p> - -<p>The minute his train arrived in the city station he made -haste to the telephone, and shortly had Jane’s shop on the -wire, with Sue promising to call her mistress quickly. Then, -he was talking fast, and he feared less convincingly than -he could have wished, for Jane was objecting:</p> - -<p>“Why, Mr. Black—how <i>can</i> I? How could I, in any -case? And now, with so little time! Besides—are you -sure you——And your friend—how can you know she——”</p> - -<p>Yes, this usually poised young business woman was -certainly being a trifle incoherent. No doubt it was an -extraordinary invitation she had received. It was small -wonder she was hesitating, as each phase of it presented -itself to her mind. Go with him, unbidden by his hostess, -to spend the day with him at her seaside home? What a -wild idea! But his eager voice broke in on her objections:</p> - -<p>“I’m going to call up Mrs. Devoe right now, and I -know as well as when I get her answer that she will welcome -you as heartily as you could ask. Why, she’s Southern, -you know, so any friend of mine—— And we’ll be back -in the early evening. Why shouldn’t you go? I can’t -see a possible reason why not. You wouldn’t hesitate, -would you—if it were any other——” And here he, too,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_238">[238]</span> -became a victim of unfinished sentences, his anxiety to -put the plan through increasing, after the fashion of men, -with her seeming reluctance to allow him to do it. “Listen -please, Miss Ray. If you’ll be making ready, I’ll call you -again when I’ve had Mrs. Devoe—if I can get her quickly—and -assure you of her personal invitation. If she is in -the least reluctant—I’ll be honest and tell you so. You’ve -forty minutes to make your train, if you don’t lose any -time. Please!”</p> - -<p>But all he could get was a doubtful: “I can’t promise, -Mr. Black—I can’t decide, all in an instant.”</p> - -<p>“Then—will you let me call you again, with Mrs. Devoe’s -invitation, if I get it in time? And will you call a -taxi, so that if you decide——”</p> - -<p>A low and heart-warming laugh came to him over the -wire: “Oh!—I don’t know what I’ll do. I’m going to -hang up the receiver.”</p> - -<p>“Wait a minute! Will you be on the train? Won’t -you take a chance? I may not get my friend in time to -let you know, but I’ll surely have the message by the time -you join me. Just remember—won’t you?—that—I’m -going to France pretty soon——”</p> - -<p>“Forgive me!” And the receiver clicked in his ear. -It was high time. Two hurried people cannot talk over a -telephone and not be using up minutes of which they have -none too many.</p> - -<p>The next half-hour Black spent in a manner calculated -both to warm his body and cool his spirit, if the latter -could have been readily cooled. In a smoking-hot telephone -booth he struggled with the intricacies of a system -temporarily in a snarl—of course it would have happened -on this particular morning. He did, at length, get Mrs. -Devoe on the wire. He cut short, as courteously as he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_239">[239]</span> -could, her rejoicings at the sound of his remembered voice, -and put his question. He received the cordial consent he -knew he should, though his reason told him she would have -preferred to see him alone. He was sorry—he couldn’t -help that—he would make it up to her as best he could. -But have this one day with Jane he must, if it could be -brought about.</p> - -<p>When he emerged from the booth at last it was much -too late to get Jane, if she had left for her train. He -might call up the shop and find out what had been her -decision, and whether she was on her way, but somehow -he preferred not to do that. Rather would he cherish the -hope, until her train came in, that she was on it. Ten -minutes more, and he would know. Meanwhile—he -would try to cool off! Somehow—he had never been more -stirred by a possibility—never so looked forward to seeing -a train come in. If Jane would come, he felt that he -should be almost happier than he could bear and not show -it. If she did not come—how was he going to bear that? -Suddenly all his fate seemed hanging in the balance. -Absurd, when he had not the slightest intention of making -a day of fate of it! He couldn’t do that; he had decided -that long ago. It was only Jane’s friendship he had, or -could ask to have; that was about the biggest thing he -could want before he went away to the war. He was -sure she felt that way, as well as he. Without talking -about it at all, it had seemed to become understood between -them. Why, then, should he be so brought to a -tension by these plans for the day? He hardly knew—except -that he was becoming momentarily more anxious -to have them go through, and to find Jane on that hot -and dusty local and bear her away with him for one day to -the sea breezes. There could be no possible reason why he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_240">[240]</span> -shouldn’t do it, with his good friend at the other end to -make it seemly.</p> - -<p>The train came in. It is probable that could Robert -Black have caught a glimpse of the expression on his own -face as he watched the stream of passengers getting off, -he would have tried to look a shade less tense of eye and -mouth! He was hoping, it must be confessed, that if -Jane were there, there would be none of his parishioners -coming in by that same train. If there were some of -them aboard, however, he did not intend to attempt to -cover his very obvious purpose of meeting Miss Ray. If -there was one clause more emphatic than another in -Black’s code, it was the one in which he set forth his right -to do as his conscience and judgment sanctioned, provided -he did so with absolute frankness and openness. But -if he would brook no interference with his rights from -others, neither would he tolerate intrigue or deceit on his -own part.</p> - -<p>Nobody whom he knew got off—the long line of passengers -had thinned to a final straggler. When he had -all but given her up, his heart sinking abominably—she -appeared at the door of the car, evidently detained by a -stranger asking information.... Was it the same -weary Jane whom he had seen in the morning? It couldn’t -be—this adorable young woman in the dark-blue summer -travelling garb, with the look about her he had always -noted of having been just freshly turned out by a most -capable personal maid. How did she manage it, she who -was accustomed to set her hand to so many practical affairs? -And how, especially, had she managed it this -morning of all mornings, when in an incredibly short space -of time—— Oh, well, it wasn’t that Black thought all these -things out; he just drank in the vision of her, after his hour<span class="pagenum" id="Page_241">[241]</span> -of uncertainty, and rejoiced that she was here—and that -she looked like that!</p> - -<p>He smiled up at her, and she smiled back; it was like two -chums meeting, he thought. He had grasped her hand -before she was fairly down the last step of the car. The -coming holiday suddenly had become a festival, now that -she was here to share it.</p> - -<p>“I oughtn’t to have come, you know,” she said, as they -walked down the platform together. “I suppose that’s -why I did come.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know any reason why you oughtn’t.”</p> - -<p>“I do—a big one. But I’m going to forget it.”</p> - -<p>“Please do. I appreciate your coming more than I can -tell you.”</p> - -<p>He looked down at her, walking beside him among the -throng of strangers, and experienced a curious and entirely -new sense of possession. He was so accustomed to the -necessity of steering a strictly neutral course where women -were concerned, that to be off like this alone with this -amazingly attractive and interesting member of what was -to Black practically the forbidden class, was almost -an unprecedented experience. He was astonished to find -himself quite shaken with joy in the sense of her nearness, -and in the knowledge that for this day, at least, he might -be sure of many hours with her, never afterward to be forgotten. -Surely, that fact of the separation, so near at -hand, which might so easily be for good and all, justified -him in forcing the issue of this one day’s companionship, -whatever might be its outcome.</p> - -<p>In the second train it was again too hot to think of taking -the fifty-minute ride in a stifling coach, and Black -again sought the rear platform, found it unoccupied, and -took Jane to it. The noise of the train made talking impossible,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_242">[242]</span> -and the pair swayed and clung to the rail in -silent company until at length the journey was over. They -alighted at a little breeze-swept station, the only passengers -for this point, which Mrs. Devoe had told Black was -a solitary one.</p> - -<p>“Oh-h!” Jane drew a long, refreshed breath. “Isn’t -this delicious? How grateful I am to you for making me -come—now that I am here and feel this first wonder of -sea air. It’s ages since I’ve taken the time to get within -sight of the sea.”</p> - -<p>“Do you mean to say I made you come?”</p> - -<p>“Of course you did. Imposed your masculine will upon -mine, and brought me whither I would not—which sounds -scriptural, somehow—where did I get that phrase? All -the time I was dressing I was saying to myself that I not -only could not but would not. I am in the habit of making -my own decisions. I really can’t account for it.”</p> - -<p>“I can. This is to be a day of days in both your experience -and mine—it was for us to have, together, before -we go across where there can be no such days. Our friendship -is a thing that demands a chance to talk both our -affairs over in a way we never can back there. Don’t -you feel that?”</p> - -<p>“Yes—I suppose that was why I came. How straightforwardly -you put it—like your straightforward self!— Oh, -how glorious this is!”</p> - -<p>Her head was up, she was walking sturdily erect beside -him over a white road hard and smooth with ground clamshells, -that ideal road of the sea district. Far away -stretched the salt marshes, with a low-lying gray cottage -in the distance—the only one along a mile of coast. The -breeze, direct from the ocean, made the temperature seem -many degrees cooler than that of the inland left behind.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_243">[243]</span>“Isn’t it? I haven’t known much about the sea since -my early boyhood. I was born on the east coast of Scotland, -and used to tumble around in the surf half my time, -wading or swimming. But that’s a pretty distant memory -now. I suppose I still could swim—one couldn’t forget.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no—quite impossible. I was brought up to swim—and -ride—but it’s years since I’ve done either. How I’d -like to swim clear out into the blue over there! I suppose -nothing so wonderful could happen to-day?”</p> - -<p>“It might—for you, anyhow. Mrs. Devoe undoubtedly -bathes here—she would have something to lend you.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! I somehow got the impression that she was an -old lady.”</p> - -<p>Black laughed. “She calls herself old. As a matter -of fact, she’s the youngest person I know. Her hair is -perfectly white, but her eyes are unquestionably young—and -very beautiful. She is vigorous as a girl, and full of -the zest of life, though she insists she is old enough to be my -mother. I suppose she must be, for she had a son who -would have been my age if he’d lived. She is simply one -of those remarkable women who never grow old—and -her mind is one of the keenest I ever came up against. She -has been a wonderful friend to me, as she was to everybody -in my first parish, with her wealth, and her charm, and her -generosity, though she was only there part of the time, for -she’s a great traveller. You’ll like her—you can’t help -it.”</p> - -<p>“I shall feel as if I were intruding horribly. She must -want to have a long talk with you alone—of course she -will. You must let me manage it, or I shall be sorry I -came.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll let you, certainly—though I’ve no doubt she would -manage it herself. She’s too clever to be defeated in getting<span class="pagenum" id="Page_244">[244]</span> -anything she wants as much as she and I both want -that talk. So don’t imagine yourself intruding. There -are few people who understand better the laws of friendship, -human and Divine, and nothing could make her -happier than to know that I’ve found another friend. -She’s always insisted that there were many people in -the world who knew what real friendship meant, but -I’ve doubted it. I still doubt it—in a way—but not -as I did before.”</p> - -<p>Thus the day began for them, with an entirely frank -understanding that before it was over they were to know -pretty well on what ground they stood. High ground it -was to be, no question of that. There was no hint in -Black’s language or in his manner of intended love-making, -but his intense interest both in the subject before them -and in Jane herself was very evident. It was quite -enough to make the day a vivid one for any such man -and woman. There are those who feel that there come -hours when the expression of the best and finest friendship -may surpass in beauty and in quality the more intimate -revelations of a declared love. However that may be, -it can hardly be denied that the early approaches of -one spirit to another may contain an exquisite and -unapproachable surprise and joy, to remain in -memory in the whitest light that shines in a world -of shadow.</p> - -<p>There is no space to tell the whole story of that day. -Of the arrival at the cottage—hardly a cottage, it stretched -so far its long gray porches in a roomy hospitality—it -can only be said that its welcome proved as friendly as -the personality of its hostess. Mrs. Devoe put both arms -about the shoulders of Robert Black, greeting him as a -mother might have done. She gave Jane one smiling<span class="pagenum" id="Page_245">[245]</span> -survey of discerning sweetness, said to Black, “She’s just -what I should expect a friend of yours to be, my dear,” -and bore Jane off to extend to her every comfort a traveller -on a July day might need. Returning, having left Jane -for the moment in a cool guest room, she questioned the -man as one who must know her ground.</p> - -<p>“How much does this mean, and just what do you want -of me, Robert?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know quite what it means, Mrs. Devoe—except -that she and I like very much to be together—and -we are both going to France soon. It may be a very long -time before we can spend a day together again. It seemed -to me we had to have the day. And all I want of you is to -let me have part of it with you—and part of it with her—and -understand that I’m so glad to be near someone who -feels like a mother that I’d have come five times as far for -one hour with you.”</p> - -<p>She nodded. “I know. We have missed each other. -But before we begin our talk—it’s just the hour for the -morning swim. Will you and Miss Ray go in, while I -sit on the beach under my big sun umbrella and watch -you? I’m not going in now; I had an early morning dip.”</p> - -<p>“Can you manage it—for me?”</p> - -<p>“Of course. I keep several extra suits here, and Sarah -has them all in the nicest order for guests.”</p> - -<p>It was more than he could have imagined hoping for -when the subject was first mentioned. What could have -been more glorious than to dash down the beach, and find -Jane, in the prettiest little blue-and-gray swimming clothes -in the world, already floating out on the crest of a great -wave? All his early sea training came back to him as he -plunged under a lazy comber, and swam eagerly out to join -the blue-and-gray figure with the white arms and the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_246">[246]</span> -wonderful laugh he had never heard make such music from -her lips before.</p> - -<p>“If not another thing happens to-day, this will have -made it quite perfect,” Jane declared, swimming with -smooth strokes by his side toward shore, after a half-hour -of alternate work and play in the blue depths.</p> - -<p>“It certainly will. I’m a new man already—feel like a -sea-god, in spite of aching muscles. It takes an entirely -new set to swim with, doesn’t it?”</p> - -<p>“Absolutely. What a pity one can’t have swimming -pools brought to one’s door, like fish, when the wish takes -one, on a July day. What a dear your Mrs. Devoe is -to think of this the very instant we appear. I don’t -wonder you love her, she’s so very attractive to look at, -and so young, in spite of her years.”</p> - -<p>“There’s nobody like her—you’ll be confident of that -when you’ve known her just one day. What I owe her—I -could never tell you—and hardly myself.”</p> - -<p>Jane was sure of it. She began to understand at once -certain qualities she had long since noted in Robert -Black. The explanation now was easy: he had been under -unconscious training from Mrs. Devoe, his friend. She -had been to him, for those five years during which he had -served his first parish, not only the mother he had missed -but the stimulus he had needed to bring out his best attributes -of mind and heart. That she had done this for -many another, first and last, lessened not a whit his debt -to her. Somehow he had never been more conscious of -this debt than he was to-day, upon seeing her again after -the interval of more than a year.</p> - -<p>After luncheon—a refreshing affair partaken of on the -airy end of the seaside porch—Black had his hour with -Mrs. Devoe while Jane wandered off down the beach,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_247">[247]</span> -taking herself out of sight and sound around a rocky curve. -In spite of his eagerness to be with Jane, Black enjoyed -that hour to the full, for it meant that he could pour out -to this perfect confidante the story of his year amid the -new surroundings, and feel as of old her understanding and -sympathy, as well as experience afresh her power to show -him where he lacked. But it was only for a little that -they discussed the affairs of the new parish; both were too -full of the bigger challenge to service Black had received, -and all that it might mean. <i>France!</i> That was the burden -of their talk together, and when it ended both were glowing -with the stimulus each had received from the other.</p> - -<p>“I may go myself,” Mrs. Devoe said, looking off longingly -across the sparkling blue waters as she rose from her -low porch chair, at the end of the hour, ready to send her -companion off before he should want to go—one of the -little secrets of her charm, perhaps! “Why shouldn’t -I spend one or two of the last of my active years in work -like that? Many women of my age are in service over -there—and I can manage things—and people, can’t I, -Robert?—and get any amount of work out of them without -making them cross at me!”</p> - -<p>Her beautiful eyes were sparkling as they met his.</p> - -<p>“You can do anything,” he said with reverence. “If -you should choose to do that, it would be the greatest -service of a life that has been just one long service.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, you’ve always thought too well of me. If I’ve -loved my fellowmen—and women—it’s because I’ve found -that there’s nothing in life but that—and the love of their -Maker. I’ve been selfish, really, for I never gave without -getting back ten—twenty—a hundred fold.”</p> - -<p>“There’s a reason for that,” he said with a smile.</p> - -<p>She sent him away then, pointing in the direction<span class="pagenum" id="Page_248">[248]</span> -Jane had gone. He went almost reluctantly—which was -perhaps the greatest tribute to her hold upon him he could -have given her. In truth she was the only woman of -any age he had ever known intimately, and to go back to -Jane, from her, was like leaving home to adventure in the -unknown.</p> - -<p>But the unknown has its lure for any man—and this -particular unknown drew Robert Black with rapid footsteps -once he had started in its direction. He had quite a -walk before he came upon her, for Jane had gone on and -on, following curve after curve of the shore, around one -rocky barrier after another. When he caught sight of her -at last she was standing upon a great rock, in the shadow -of the cliff towering above her, watching a distant ship -which was almost hull down upon the horizon.</p> - -<p>Young and strong and intensely vital she looked to him -as she stood there, her face and figure outlined in profile -against the dark cliff. The morning swim and the sea -air had brought all its most vivid colouring into her face; -the light breeze blew her skirts back from her lithe limbs; -she might have been posed for a statue of Liberty, or -Victory, or anything symbolic of ardent purpose. And -yet he was sure it was no pose, for she did not hold it an -instant after his call to her, but came running down the -sloping rocks with the sure foot of youth and perfect -health, her voice that of warm joy in the hour.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I’ve not been so happy in months—years!” she -cried. “I don’t know why. It’s just sheer delight in being -alive, I think, in the midst of all this wonder of sea -and sky and air. How can I ever thank you for bringing -me down here? It was what I needed to put the breath -of life back into me, after all these weeks of work and -bother over closing up and getting away. This morning,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_249">[249]</span> -when you met me, I almost didn’t want to go to France—can -you believe that?—after all my preparation! And -now—oh! I’ve just been standing here watching that -ship go out, and imagining myself on her, with the ocean -breeze blowing in my face as it’s been blowing here—only -stiffer and stronger as we got farther and farther out. -And now—I can hardly wait to go!”</p> - -<p>He looked into her face, and met her eyes—and gave her -back her radiant smile. And then, suddenly, he didn’t -feel at all like smiling. Rather, his heart began to sink -at thought of the separation so near at hand.</p> - -<p>“Come, please,” he said, “let’s sit down over here in -the shade, though you look just now as if you belonged -nowhere but in the brightest sunshine. I want to talk -it all out. And this is our hour.”</p> - -<p>He found a seat for her where she could lean against -a smooth rock. Then he took his own place, just below -her and a little farther back, so that as they both looked -out to sea he could study her side face—if she did not turn -it too far away. It was rather clever of him, and highly -characteristic, if he had known it, of the male mind when -making its arrangements for a critical interview. Jane -might easily have defeated him in it, but she did not. -Perhaps she knew that to talk as freely as he seemed to -want to talk he must have a little the advantage of her -as to the chance for observation.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know why it is,” he began, slowly, and with -astonishing directness, much as he was accustomed to do -everything, “but it seems to me that the only way I can -possibly make clear to you something you must know, is -just simply to state it—and ask your help. I’ve thought -of every other way, and I find I don’t know how to use -them. I haven’t been brought up to feel my way, I have<span class="pagenum" id="Page_250">[250]</span> -to cut a straight path. So—I’m going to tell you that—I -find it very hard not to ask you to marry me, because -I never wanted to do anything as I want to do that. -I think it is your right to know that I want to do it—and -why I—can’t.”</p> - -<p>There was an instant’s silence, while Jane gazed steadily -out to sea, her side face, as he looked hard and anxiously -at it, that of one who had received no shock of surprise -or sorrow. Instead, a shadow of a smile slowly curved the -corners of her sweet, characterful mouth.</p> - -<p>“Thank you, Robert Black,” she said, without turning -toward him at all. “Whatever else I have or don’t have, -in life, I shall always have that to remember—that you -wanted me. But of course I know, quite as well as you -do, that you are not for me—nor I for you. I have understood -that perfectly, all along. You really didn’t have -to tell me. But—I can’t help being glad you did.”</p> - -<p>And now, indeed, there fell a silence. Where was the -“talk” Black had thought he was to have, carefully unfolding -to her the reasons—or rather the great reason—why -he couldn’t ask her for herself, but only for her lasting -friendship—for this was what he meant to ask for, in full -measure. Was it all said, in those few words? It seemed -so—and more than said. There was nothing to explain—she -understood, and accepted his decision. That was all -there was of it. Was it?</p> - -<p>As he sat there, staring out at the incoming waves, each -seeming to wash a little higher on the beach than the last, -her simple words all at once took on new meaning. Why -was she glad he had told her? Why should she say that -she <i>had that to remember</i>?—as if it were something very -precious to remember? No real woman could be so glad -as that just to hear a man say he wanted her—even though<span class="pagenum" id="Page_251">[251]</span> -he could not have her—unless—— Yes, there was revelation -in those words of hers—even quiet, straightforward -confession, such as his straightforwardness called for. He -had virtually told her that he loved her, though he had -carefully refrained from using the phrase which is wont -to unlock the doors of restraint. Well, in return, she had -virtually told him—yes, hadn’t she?—else why should she -be glad of his words to remember?</p> - -<p>The thought shook him, as he had never dreamed he -could be shaken. He had believed he could keep firm -hold of himself throughout this interview, in which he was -to tell a woman that in asking for nothing but her friendship -he was withholding the greater asking only because -he must. But now that he knew—or thought he knew—that -she cared, too—— Suddenly he drew a great breath -of pain and longing, and folded his arms upon his knees -which were drawn up before him, and laid his head down -upon them.</p> - -<p>After a minute Jane spoke: “Don’t mind—too much,” -she said, and the sound of her low voice thrilled him -through and through. “It’s a great deal just to know that -the biggest thing there is has come to one, even though -one can’t have it to keep. And yet, in a way, one can -have it to keep. I have something to take with me to -France now—that I couldn’t have hoped to have. Perhaps -you have something, too. I am trying to give it to -you, without actually saying it—just as you have given -it to me without actually saying it. I think that’s only -fair. And I want you to know that I do perfectly understand -why you can’t say more. You can no more ask me -to marry you than—I could marry you, if you did ask me. -For I couldn’t—Robert Black—even though——”</p> - -<p>He lifted his head, his eyes full of a wild will to know<span class="pagenum" id="Page_252">[252]</span> -what she would say. “Even though—<i>what</i>?” he asked, -in a voice which would not be denied.</p> - -<p>“Why should I say—what you do not?” she asked, with -that strange little smile of hers.</p> - -<p>“I thought I mustn’t say it. But now that you—— Oh, -I’ll say it, if you want to hear it.”</p> - -<p>“I do. You might at least give me that to keep, too.”</p> - -<p>“Oh!” He turned and looked straight into her uplifted -eyes. Then he said the words—that he had thought -he wouldn’t say. And he heard the answer. After that -he didn’t know how time passed, because there seemed to -be no time any more—just eternity, which was soon to -separate them.</p> - -<p>Then, all at once: “Jane,” he said, heavily, “perhaps -some time—when you have been through—what you will -go through over there——”</p> - -<p>She shook her head. “It would never make me—what -I should have to be to fill the place your wife must fill. -You couldn’t have a hypocrite taking that place—and I -couldn’t play the part of one. There’s a great gulf fixed -between us—no doubt of that. I can’t accept your beliefs—and -you can’t accept my—lack of them. It will -always be so. As long as I can never say a prayer—and -as long as you live by prayer——”</p> - -<p>“Do you remember,” he asked, “how glad you were -to have a prayer said over Sadie Dunstan?”</p> - -<p>She nodded. “Because it meant the difference between -custom and outrageous ignoring of custom. And I liked -the prayer, and respected your belief in it. But—I didn’t -for a moment think any one but ourselves heard it.”</p> - -<p>“Sometime,” he said again, sturdily, “you will pray, -and be glad to pray. And you will know that Someone -hears.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_253">[253]</span>“When I do”—her voice softened incredibly—“I will -let you know. And—in a way—it isn’t true when I say -that I don’t believe in prayer, because—I could so easily, -this very minute—pray to—<i>you</i>.”</p> - -<p>“To me!” he repeated unsteadily and incredulously. -“For what?”</p> - -<p>“For what—you think—you mustn’t give me. Yet—since -we are going so far away from each other—so soon—and—since—the -kind of chaplain you will be is just as -likely to get—a bullet through his splendid heart as any -other man—I almost think—you might give it to me. -It is——” He had to bend to catch the words, the heart she -had mentioned beating like mad in his breast with what -might almost have been a bullet through it, for the shock -of it. “It is—so little for you to give—and so much—for -me—to have! And I know—with your dreadful Scotch -ideas of what mustn’t be, you will never, never think -you can give it to me unless I—pray for it——”</p> - -<p>He was still as a statue, except for his difficult breathing, -while she waited, her head down and turned away, a wonderful -deep flush overspreading all her cheek and neck. -Then, at last, he spoke, in a whisper:</p> - -<p>“It isn’t ‘<i>little for me to give</i>.’ It’s—all I have.—I didn’t -think—didn’t dream—I could give it to you unless I gave -you—myself with it. But——”</p> - -<p>She looked up then. Her lips were smiling a little, and -her eyes were full of tears—it was a glorious face she -showed him.</p> - -<p>“I always knew the Scotch were cautious,” she breathed, -“and sometimes a trifle—close. But I didn’t think they -would hesitate so over a ‘bit gift’—when—they were -withholding—so much——”</p> - -<p>She hadn’t finished the words before his lips met hers.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_254">[254]</span> -And when this had happened, it was she who got swiftly -to her feet. He rose also, but more slowly, and with a -strange film across his eyes.</p> - -<p>“Now,” she said, breathing a little quickly, but with -the old control coming back long before he could get hold -of his, “we’re quite all right, I think. We’re on a firm -basis of friendship for the rest of our days, and everything -completely understood. It goes without saying -that this was—<i>something to remember</i>, and only that. -Shall we——”</p> - -<p>But Robert Black reached out and caught her hand.</p> - -<p>“Jane,” he said, “I want you to listen—listen with -your heart, not with your reason.”</p> - -<p>Then, with his head bared, he lifted it, as he had lifted -it in the woods with Red. “O my God,” he said, “teach -her—show her—somehow—Thyself. For she must learn, -and I can’t teach—this. Over there, if not here—show -her that she is all wrong, and that Thou <i>art</i> real, and -‘nearer than breathing, nearer than hands and feet.’ -Until then—keep her safe—<i>for me</i>.”</p> - -<p>He opened his eyes. Jane was staring straight out to -sea, and on her face was he knew not what of mingled longing, -appeal, and protest. Her fine brows were drawn together, -her lips were caught between her beautiful white -teeth. She turned upon him.</p> - -<p>“Robert Black,” she said, low and fiercely, “I’ll never -say I believe God heard that—oh, yes, I know there is a -God—but I’ll never say I believe He heard, or cared—until -I do believe it, not even if it would give me—you.”</p> - -<p>“And I,” answered Robert Black, steadily, “would -never ask you to say it till you do believe it—not even -if it would give me—you!”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_255">[255]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XV<br /> - - -<small>QUICKSILVER IN A TUBE</small></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">“WHERE away, Miss Lockhart? May I come along -a bit?”</p> - -<p>Nan turned, to see Cary Ray’s tall figure falling into -step beside her, his clean-cut face wearing the look of intent -purpose which was now so marked upon it.</p> - -<p>“Of course you may. I’m going to the station to meet -Fanny. You knew her uncle died, and she went West to -the funeral? She’s coming back to stay a few more days -with me before she goes to join her mother.”</p> - -<p>“I heard about the uncle. Is it a serious loss for her?”</p> - -<p>“I believe he supplied Mrs. Fitch and Fanny with most -of their funds, but I think they seldom saw him. He was -rather eccentric and a good deal of a recluse.”</p> - -<p>“Let’s hope the funds continue, anyhow,” said Cary, -lightly, “in the shape of a big bequest. That will alleviate -the sense of loss, besides providing a tender memory. -These recluse uncles with large bank accounts and generous -dispositions are all too uncommon—I never saw the -shadow of one. If I only had one now! How I’d leap -to make him a farewell visit—in uniform—if I ever get -mine. I’m mightily afraid I shan’t get it, by the way, -till I’m about to sail, so I’ll have no chance to strut around -this town and call on you all with an air of conscious -modesty.”</p> - -<p>“Too bad,” laughed Nan. “But we’re quite sufficiently<span class="pagenum" id="Page_256">[256]</span> -impressed now just by the knowledge that you’ll soon -be off. What is the war-correspondent’s insignia, do you -know?”</p> - -<p>“Two fountain pens, crossed, on the collar, and a large -splotch of ink on the left sleeve,” announced Cary, -promptly. “Also, in time, presumably, a three-cornered -tear over the right knee, and a couple of black eyes, from -trying to push to the rear out of danger while rapidly -taking notes on what a highly developed imagination -assures him is undoubtedly occurring at the front.”</p> - -<p>“Great! My imagination, though not so highly developed, -pictures a quite different scene.... Oh, isn’t -that the train coming in?”</p> - -<p>“It is. The station clock lies, as usual. We must -sprint for it if we want to be on the platform.”</p> - -<p>They quickened their steps, and were in time to see -Frances Fitch appear in the vestibule of her car, and to -stare up at her with surprised and—at least in Cary’s case—appreciative -eyes.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Fanny!” It was Nan Lockhart’s inner cry to her -incomprehensible friend, though her lips made no comment. -“How <i>could</i> you? Don’t you think we must -<i>know</i> you’re acting? You don’t care enough for that.”</p> - -<p>For Fanny was apparently in mourning, certainly in -black, the most simple but effective black the eye and hand -of skilled dressmaker and milliner could conceive, and in -it she was undeniably a picture. Not all the cunning -frills and artful colour combinations of her former dressing -could approach in the setting forth of her blonde beauty -the unrelieved black silks and misty chiffons of this new -garb. To Nan’s sophisticated eye Fanny’s mourning was -something of a travesty, for it was all of materials not -ordinarily considered available for the trappings of woe;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_257">[257]</span> -but it was undoubtedly only the more effective for that. -Perhaps, Nan acknowledged, in that first quick glance, -it represented the precise shade of honour due a recluse -uncle who had been represented in his niece’s life principally -by monthly cheques and not at all by intimate -association.</p> - -<p>“My word, but she’s a ripping beauty in that black, -isn’t she?” came from Cary Ray under his breath, as he -waved an eager greeting at the girl above him, and received -an answering smile slightly touched with pensiveness. -“Looks as if she’d been pretty unhappy, too. He -was about all she had in the world, anyhow, wasn’t he?—except -the invalid mother. Poor girl!”</p> - -<p>Nan smothered a sigh. Thus was Fanny wont to carry -off the interest and sympathy of the spectator, whatever -she did, on the stage or off it—if she was ever really off -the stage. Miss Lockhart now spoke sternly to her inner -self: “Don’t be a prig, Nancy! Admit she’s perfectly -stunning to look at, and she has the right to mourn her -uncle if she wants to. She didn’t have to make a dowd -of herself to do it, just so other women wouldn’t be envious.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, she is a beauty,” she answered, in her usual -generous way. “And I’m sure it was a great loss.”</p> - -<p>And then she found herself almost instantly a supernumerary, -as she was quite accustomed to be when with -her friend in the company of any man on earth. After -one ardent embrace, during which Fanny murmured the -most affectionate of greetings in her ear—“You old darling—what -it <i>means</i> to get back to <i>you</i>!”—it was Cary -to whom the newcomer turned, and toward whom she -remained turned—so to speak—throughout the walk -home. Nan had to concede to herself, as she kept pace<span class="pagenum" id="Page_258">[258]</span> -with the pair beside her, that Cary was doing his part -most thoroughly, and that Fanny could not justly be -blamed for giving him her attention. Before they had -reached the house it began to look to Nan as if Fanny’s -mourning had gone to Cary’s head!</p> - -<p>She left them in the library, knowing well what was -expected of her, and went upstairs wondering, as she had -wondered a thousand times before, just why she cared so -much for Fanny Fitch. And then, as a thousand times -before, she found the explanation. To do Fanny entire -justice, she was not one of the girls who find no time or -taste for others of their own sex. Nobody could be more -fascinating than she to Nan herself, when quite alone with -her. Never down at heel or ragged at elbow in moments -of privacy, always making herself charming from sheer -love of her own alluring image in the mirror, capable of -the most clever and entertaining talk when the mood took -her, though there might be no man’s eye or ear within reach—it -was impossible not indeed quite to adore her. Nan’s -soberer yet highly intelligent self found a curiously satisfying -complement at times in Fanny’s lighter but far more -versatile personality. It was only when the more irresponsible -and reckless side of the other girl’s nature came -uppermost that Nan found herself critical and sometimes -deeply disapproving and resentful.</p> - -<p>It was a full hour before Fanny came upstairs. Nan -had been waiting for her in the guest’s room, where she -had had the luggage taken. As Fanny came in, the look -of her struck Nan afresh as being past all precedent attractive -and appealing. Her colour was now heightened, -evidently by the interview with Cary, and her eyes were -full of all manner of strange lights. She had not yet removed -her hat, and somehow the whole effect of her was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_259">[259]</span> -that of one poised but a moment at a resting place on a -journey full of both excitement and peril.</p> - -<p>The two met in the middle of the large and airy room.</p> - -<p>“Well, dear—and aren’t you going to take off your hat -and settle down?” Nan put up her hand to remove the -demurely becoming hat in question. “Why didn’t you -take it off downstairs and rest your head?”</p> - -<p>“I felt better armoured for defense with it. Never mind -taking it off—I’m going out again.”</p> - -<p>“Did you need defense, then?”</p> - -<p>“Doesn’t one, when a determined young man wants to -marry one out of hand? I’ve only succeeded in putting -him off for an hour or two, at that. He says he may go -any day, and on seeing me just now he realized he couldn’t -go without leaving me behind securely tied. What do -you think of that, for a poor girl just from a funeral, to -be confronted with a wedding?”</p> - -<p>“But, Fanny——”</p> - -<p>“That’s what I said—‘But, Cary——’ In fact, I never -got further than that, though I tried it ten times over.”</p> - -<p>“But did you—give him any encouragement?”</p> - -<p>“Did I? Well, now, knowing me—as you think you -do—what’s your idea of it?”</p> - -<p>Nan studied her, without answering. Her gaze dropped -from Fanny’s face to her black-clad shoulder, then suddenly -she put her arm about that shoulder.</p> - -<p>“I’m forgetting,” she said, gravely, “that you have lost -a friend. I’m sorry. Somehow I didn’t expect to see -you in black, and can’t yet realize that it means bereavement.”</p> - -<p>“What a subtle way of telling me that my particular -kind of black doesn’t wholly suggest bereavement! Well, -my dear—it seemed to me only decent to show some respect<span class="pagenum" id="Page_260">[260]</span> -to an old man who has been very decent to me, and -left me enough to buy silk stockings and pumps in which -to mourn him, to say nothing of other accessories. I -don’t think he would have approved of henrietta cloth -and crêpe—and besides—what I’m wearing suits me -better, don’t you think? How do you imagine it will -impress the Reverend Robert? I’ve already noted its -effect on one young man. Can I hope to make another -lose his head within the hour?”</p> - -<p>Fanny walked over to the mirror and gave a touch or -two to her hair beneath the black hat-brim. Nan’s eyes -still followed her.</p> - -<p>“I ought to be used to your breath-taking statements,” -Nan observed, uneasily, “but I probably never shall be -any more than I can become used to the covering up of -what I know is your real self with all this pretense of -lightness. You are sorry you have lost your uncle, but -one would never guess it. And you care—or don’t care—for -Cary Ray, and I haven’t an idea which. As for—the -crazy things you’ve said all along about——”</p> - -<p>“Don’t hesitate to mention his name—I adore hearing -it. And I’m going to pronounce it myself to its owner -this very hour—if he’s at home. That’s why I’m keeping -on my hat. And why—” Fanny dived into a small -and chastely elegant black leather travelling bag, and -after a moment’s searching brought forth two filmily fine -handkerchiefs which she tucked away in her dress—“why -I am providing myself with the wherewithal to weep upon. -I have no doubt that what the Reverend Robert says to -me will bring forth tears, and I want to be prepared. But -whether tears of joy or sorrow——”</p> - -<p>“Fanny! You’re not—going to him?”</p> - -<p>“My beloved Annette, the number of times in the course<span class="pagenum" id="Page_261">[261]</span> -of my acquaintance with you that you have pronounced -the word ‘<i>Fanny!</i>’ in precisely that tone of expostulatory -shock couldn’t be numbered!—I am going to him—since -I don’t know any way of making him come to me. Cary -happened to say that Mr. Black also was liable to be -called at any hour, and I dare not delay. I want to have -an important—very important—interview with him -while my courage is high. I told you, some time ago, that -I should find a way, and I’ve found it. Wish me good -luck!”</p> - -<p>That was all there was to it. Although Nan Lockhart -was more than anxious as to what might underlie Fanny’s -mystifying language, she could not doubt, when Fanny -presently set forth from the house, that she was going, as -she had declared, to the manse. It was by now four in -the afternoon. Nan had offered to accompany her friend, -saying that she thought, if Fanny must go, that she would -best not go alone. She had been told that she was a -meddling old granny, and that her place was by the fireside. -So—with a kiss—Miss Fitch had walked away, and -as Nan anxiously watched her go down the street she had -been forced to admit to herself, as she had admitted many -times before, that there was an unexplainable and irresistible -witchery about Fanny, and that there could be little -doubt that somebody was in danger. She wondered -which of them it was—if any could be in greater danger -than Fanny herself.</p> - -<p>The master of the manse was at home when his bell -rang presently, so it fell out, though ten minutes before -he had not been there, nor would have been ten minutes -later. He had rushed in for a certain book he wanted, -and was just within his own front door when he heard the -bell. He opened it, his thoughts upon the book in his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_262">[262]</span> -hand—it was one on “Minor Tactics,” by the way, and -he wanted it for one of his boys. So he confronted his -caller with no means of escape—if he had wanted any. -Why mortal man should wish to escape from the vision -of sad-eyed beauty which awaited him upon his doorstep -none who had seen her there could say—certainly not -Cary Ray, who had seen her there, and who was now -stalking angrily up and down a side street, intent on keeping -her somehow within his reach. He knew that Fanny -had meant to come—had she not told him so? Why she -had not let him come with her——</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry to delay you, Mr. Black, but—I need your -help very much. Will you let me come in for a very -few minutes?”</p> - -<p>“Certainly, Miss Fitch, come in.”</p> - -<p>What else was there to do? All sorts and classes of -people were accustomed to enter the manse doors at all -hours, so why not this girl in black with the shadows under -her eyes and the note of appeal in her voice, who said she -needed his help? What was he there for, except to help? -And yet, somehow, Robert Black had never been quite -so unwilling to admit a visitor. Something within him -seemed to warn him that if ever he had been on his guard, -he must be on it now.</p> - -<p>If Nan could have seen Fanny, as she took her seat in -the chair Black placed for her, she would have wondered -if she knew her friend, after all. This the girl with the -glitter in her eyes, the reckless note in her voice, the captivating -ways which Cary Ray knew so well? This was -a girl of another sort altogether; one in deep trouble, who -presented to the man before her a face so sadly sweet, lifted -to him eyes in which lay such depths of anxiety, that he -might well summon his best resources to her aid. If<span class="pagenum" id="Page_263">[263]</span> -ever sincerity looked out between lifted lashes, it showed -between those heavily shadowing ones which were among -Fanny’s most conscious and cherished possessions.</p> - -<p>So then Fanny told Black her story. It was a touching -story, bravely told. Whenever the lines of it began to -verge too decidedly upon the pathetic she brought herself -up, as she caught her red lips between her teeth, said -softly, “Oh, never mind that part—it’s no different from -thousands of others,” and went quietly and clearly on. -She told him of the invalid mother, so dear and so helpless—of -the uncle who had died, the one man left in the -bereaved family, for whom she obviously wore her -mourning—“though he would have told me not, wonderful -old man, who wanted nobody to grieve for him.” -She spoke of the future, so obscure, and what it was best -to do; and now, suddenly, when she least expected it—she -hesitated, then came frankly out with it—here was this -suitor besieging her, whom she must answer. And with -it all—she was suffering a great longing for something -which she had not—a sense that there was a God who -cared, which she found it, oh! so difficult to believe. -This last was the greatest, much the greatest, need of all. -She had come to him because she knew no one else who -could point the way....</p> - -<p>Here she rested her case, and sat silently looking -down at her hands clasped tightly in her lap, her face paling -with the stress of her repressed emotion. Yes, it did -pale, as well it might. When one dares to play with -sacred things, small wonder if the blood seeps away from -the capillaries, and the pulse beats fast and small. And -Fanny knew—who could know better?—that she was playing, -playing a desperate game, with the last cards she -held.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_264">[264]</span>It was very perfect acting, and yet, somehow, it did not -make the man who watched it lower his guard. He had -had no great experience with just this sort of thing, and -yet—he had seen Fanny act before, and had detected in her -acting that it never once forgot itself in the grip of a genuine -emotion. When she ceased speaking, and it became -necessary to answer her, he felt his way with every word -he spoke.</p> - -<p>“Have you told all this to Miss Lockhart?” was the -unexpected question he put to her.</p> - -<p>Imperceptibly Fanny winced, but she replied quietly: -“Nan knows much, but not all. She doesn’t quite understand -me, I think. I can never make her realize that flippant -and frivolous as I can be on the surface, underneath -something runs deep.”</p> - -<p>“Yet she must want to assure herself of that, she’s so -finely genuine herself. Ever since I have known her I -have thought her one of the best-balanced young women -I ever knew. She seems very devoted to you. And as -for her faith in things unseen, I am sure it is very real. -I don’t see how you could do better than to put yourself -under her tuition.”</p> - -<p>“I have tried, Mr. Black—I assure you I have. Nan -and I are dear friends, and I respect and admire her devotedly. -But I can’t talk about these things even to her. -Somehow I can’t to any woman. I need—I think I need -a man’s point of view. And not only a man’s but—a -priest’s.”</p> - -<p>Her eyes lifted themselves slowly to his, and there was -a spiritual sort of beseeching in them which very nearly -veiled and covered the terribly human wish which was -behind. For a moment Black wondered with a heart-sinking -throb of anxiety if he were right in distrusting her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_265">[265]</span> -motive in coming to him as he had thus far distrusted -it. How should he dare not to respond to her need, if it -were real? How send her from him unanswered and unsatisfied, -if he could really do anything for her? Why, -merely because she was fascinating to look upon, must she -be a deceiver; while if she sat before him with a plain face -and red, white-lashed eyes, he would be far surer that she -was in real distress. It wasn’t fair to her, was it, to -doubt her without the proof?</p> - -<p>While he hesitated over what to say to this appeal, all -at once he was confronted with a new situation; one ever -calculated to weaken and undermine the judgment of man. -Fanny sat close beside his study desk, from the opposite -side of which he faced her. When his silence had lasted -for a full minute she quietly turned and laid her arm upon -the desk—a roundly white arm, the fair flesh showing -through the sheer black fabric of her close sleeve—and -buried her face in her arm. With her free hand she found -her handkerchief—one of the two with which she had -provided herself—and then Black saw that she was softly -sobbing, and seemingly trying with much difficulty to -control herself.</p> - -<p>Well—was this acting, too? Can a woman weep at -will? And if she were as unhappy as she seemed, what -was he to do about it? It was an extremely uncomfortable -and disquieting situation, and Black wondered for a -moment if he could possibly see it through without -blundering. He was wishing ardently that he had a -mother or a sister at hand. There was only Mrs. -Hodder whom he could call in, and she was assuredly -not the person to act as duenna to this young woman. -To bring her in would be to send Fanny out. And was -it possible that this was really his opportunity, and that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_266">[266]</span> -he must forget everything except to use it for all that there -was in it?</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry you are unhappy,” he said. “Of course -it’s not possible for me to advise you as to Cary Ray—only -yourself can answer that question. I’ve grown to -like and respect him very thoroughly, and if you could be -to him what he needs in the way of a sheet anchor, it -would help him more than anything in the world to steer -a straight course.”</p> - -<p>Fanny lifted a tear-wet face. “Would you advise me -to marry him—without—loving him?”</p> - -<p>“Certainly not.”</p> - -<p>“If I cared with all my heart and soul for—someone -else——” She rose suddenly to her feet, and stood before -him, a tragic, lovely figure of despair. “Oh,” she breathed, -“you simply have to know—I can’t keep it from you. -You are going so soon—there’s no time to wait. I—I -don’t know what you will think, but—over there you are -going to go into all sorts of danger. I may never see you -again. Is it a time to be afraid—for even a woman to be -afraid—to speak? You may despise me for—showing my -heart—but—oh, I can’t help it! Don’t—turn me away. -If you do, I think I shall—die!”</p> - -<p>Robert Black stood as if turned to stone. He had risen -as she had risen; he now stood staring at her across the -massive old black walnut desk as if he could not believe -the evidence of his own ears. If Fanny were to make this -incredible declaration at all, she had done it in the only -possible way—across that study desk. If she had attempted -to come near him, to put her hand in his, to try -upon him the least of all feminine arts in approaching -man, he would have retreated, bodily and spiritually, and -have been at once too far away for her to reach. But<span class="pagenum" id="Page_267">[267]</span> -the very manner of her appeal to him carried with it a -certain dignity. He could not conceivably repulse her -in the same way that he could have done if she had played -the temptress, or even the woman who counts upon her -personal charm at close range to sway a man’s heart and -influence his decision. Fanny had studied this man, and -gauged him well. If she had any possible chance with -him it was only by making her supplication to him from -a distance, and by looking, when she had made it—as she -did look—like a young princess who stoops to lift him of -her choice to her estate. It was undoubtedly the greatest -moment of Fanny’s dramatic experience; she was a real -actress now, for beyond all question she was living the -part she acted, and the emotion which stirred her was the -strongest of her life.</p> - -<p>It was not long that Black stared at her white face, his -own face paling. It was only for a moment that she let -him see all she could show him; then she turned and walked -away, across the room, and stood with her back to him, -her hands clasped before her, her head drooping. The -figure she thus presented to him was still that of the princess, -but it was also that of the woman who, having for -the instant lifted the veil, drops it again, and awaits in -proud patience the man’s pronouncement.</p> - -<p>Black came slowly toward her—it did not seem possible -courteously to address her across the many feet of space -she had now put between them. He stopped when he was -near enough—and not too near—he seemed to know rather -definitely when this point had been reached. But before -he could speak Fanny herself broke the stillness. She -put out one hand without turning.</p> - -<p>“Please don’t come nearer,” she breathed. “I can’t—bear -it.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_268">[268]</span>And then she did turn, lifting to him a face so beseeching, -lifting to him for one instant’s gesture arms so imploring, -that if there had been in him one impulse towards her -he would have been more than man if he had resisted her. -But—how could there be in him one impulse towards her -when, with every moment in her presence, there had been -living more vividly in his remembrance that other moment, -now days ago, when he had given Jane Ray—“all -he had.” Though never again—never again—should -even so brief a glory of experience come to him, rather -would he have that one wonderful memory than all -that there might be for him in these two outstretched -arms.</p> - -<p>Yet—how could he but be pitiful—and merciful—to -Fanny Fitch? To have offered herself to him, and to have -to stand there waiting to be taken or refused—there -seemed to him no words too kind in which to make her -understand. And yet—how to find words at all!</p> - -<p>“You must know,” he said at last, and with difficulty, -“that I am—that I have—no way to tell you—how badly -I feel to have you tell me this, and to be—unable to——”</p> - -<p>“You’re not unable—you’re just afraid. You’ve kept -your heart sealed up so long—you’ve been so frightfully -discreet—such a model minister—you don’t know at all -what you’re putting away from you. It will never -come back—you’ll never have the chance again I’m -giving you—to live—to <i>live</i>—oh, to live with all there is -of you, not just with the nice, proper, priestly side of you!” -The passionate voice lifted and dropped again in choking -cadences. “You think I couldn’t adapt myself, couldn’t -fill the part. I could—I could!—I would do anything -you asked of me—become a mystic, like yourself—or——”</p> - -<p>“Oh, <i>stop</i>!”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_269">[269]</span>Fanny stopped—there was no disobeying that low, -commanding voice. She knew herself that she had now -gone too far. She stood with both hands pressed over -her throat, which threatened to contract and shut off -her breathing.</p> - -<p>“I can’t let you—I won’t let you go on. You’re overwrought—you’re -not yourself, Miss Fitch. Your long -journey—your uncle’s death—Cary’s suit—everything -has combined to overtax your nerves. You’re going to -put away this hour as if it had never been, and so am I. -You’re going to find happiness in being a good friend -to Cary, whether or not anything comes of it. He’s -worth all you can give him—and you’re going to give him -your very best. Now—won’t you——”</p> - -<p>“Go away?” She looked up at him with a twisted, -angry smile. “Before you have—prayed with me, for -the good of my wicked soul? You might at least do that, -since it’s all you can do for me!”</p> - -<p>Suddenly he felt as if he were in the midst of cheap -melodrama, forced to take a part against his will. He had -never believed in this girl, he believed in her less than ever -now. For a moment she had convinced him that in her -own fashion she loved him—if she knew what the word -meant. But now he was driven to believe that only her -passion for excitement had brought this scene upon him, -and that this last cynical speech was just the expression -of her fondness for the drama. He turned cold in an instant; -his very spirit retreated from her.</p> - -<p>“I should feel,” he said, very quietly, “as if I were -playing with prayer, if I made use of it just now. I think -the best thing for you is to try to rest and sleep, and come -back to a natural and sane way of looking at things. If -doors don’t open at a touch, if they are locked and one<span class="pagenum" id="Page_270">[270]</span> -has no key, it’s not wise to try to force them. There are -plenty of doors that will open at your touch——”</p> - -<p>“But not yours! And now that you have locked and -doubled barred it I want to tell you that it’s too late. -I’ve seen inside, and know what a chilly, stony place it is. -There’s no fire there—it’s all austerity. No woman could -keep warm there, certainly not a woman like me. I’ve -long wanted to know what was behind that granite face -of yours, and now I’ve found out. I’ve kept my splendid, -big-hearted Cary waiting till I could satisfy myself about -you, and know that he was worth two, three—ten of you, -Robert Black! I’m going back to him—and happy to -go. Do you wish me joy? Or does even doing that go -against your flinty conscience?”</p> - -<p>He came toward her, pitying her again now, it was so -obvious that she was trying to save her humiliated face.</p> - -<p>“Miss Fitch,” he said, gently, “I do wish you joy—if -you can find it in anything genuine. But don’t play -with Cary Ray—he doesn’t deserve it.”</p> - -<p>“Will you marry us to-night at eight o’clock?”</p> - -<p>He looked at her steadily. “You don’t mean that!”</p> - -<p>“I certainly do. That was what I came for—as he -knows. And to settle a little wager I had with him. I’ve -settled it. And now I’m doing my real errand. Will -you marry us, Mr. Robert Black?—since you have refused—everything -else?”</p> - -<p>He walked away from her now, over to the window, and -stood looking out for a space. Fanny watched him, her -head up, her lips smiling a little, ready to face him when -he turned again. He came back at last, and he spoke -quietly and decidedly.</p> - -<p>“If you will send Cary to me,” he said, “and he asks -me to do this, I will do it. Not otherwise.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_271">[271]</span>“What do you want to do? Talk with him, and try -to persuade him that I’m not good enough for him?”</p> - -<p>“I want to talk with him. I want to ask him to wait -to marry you till he comes back.”</p> - -<p>“And why, if you please?”</p> - -<p>“Because he’s going to find out, over there, that life is -something besides a game. And when he comes back, if he -still wants you, it will be because you have found it out, -too. Oh, I wish—I wish with all my heart—you would stop -playing and be real. Why not?”</p> - -<p>“I think,” said Fanny Fitch, “it’s because I’m made -that way. You might as well give me up. If I laugh, -it’s as likely as not to be because I want to cry. And -if I cry, it’s more than likely to be true that I’m laughing -inside. I love to act, on the stage or off of it. How can -I help that? It’s the true dramatic instinct. How can -I be any more real than I am? Being what you call unreal -is reality to me. If I were to try to be what to you is -real, I should be more unreal than I am now. There, -Mr. Minister what will you do with that?”</p> - -<p>Black shook his head. “You are merely juggling with -words now,” he said. “I think you know what I mean -as well as I do. And I think something will happen -which will make you unwilling to play with things—and -people—as you do now. Meanwhile——”</p> - -<p>The doorbell rang sharply. It was what Black had -been expecting all along. There was nothing to do but -answer it. Mrs. Hodder was accustomed to do this only -by request, and he had not asked her for it to-day, for -she was more than usually busy in her kitchen. Black -went to the door, leaving Fanny behind, and hoping -against hope that it might not be some caller who would -be certain to misunderstand the whole situation. It<span class="pagenum" id="Page_272">[272]</span> -proved to be the one man whom he could have wished to -see. Cary Ray had walked the street to a purpose, -though he had not known, for he had met a messenger. -With his message in his hand he had rushed to the manse -door.</p> - -<p>“Is Fanny here?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. Come into my study, please.”</p> - -<p>Breathless with his fast walk which had been all but a -run, Cary confronted Fanny across the room. He crossed -it, seized her hands, and stood looking down into her face -with excited eyes. The drops stood out upon his forehead.</p> - -<p>“You put me off too long,” he said. “I’m off—no -time for anything but to throw my things together and -catch the next train. I knew when the orders came they’d -come this way. There isn’t even time for—what we’d -have to get first if we did what I wanted. Perhaps—since -you didn’t know your own mind—it’s just as well. Maybe—if -I come back—you’ll know it better. And if I don’t—never -mind. All I want is to get into the game somehow.”</p> - -<p>Even at the moment Fanny looked past Cary at Robert -Black.</p> - -<p>“You see,” she said, “he calls it a game, too.”</p> - -<p>“He won’t,” Black answered, “when he comes back—as -please God he will.”</p> - -<p>“I can’t stop a minute. Will you both go with me, -over to my sister’s?”</p> - -<p>“Of course.”</p> - -<p>Black caught up his hat. Fanny snatched a glance at -herself as she went by a sombre black-walnut-framed -mirror in the hall. Cary mopped his brow and ran a -finger round inside his collar. It was quite plain that his -eagerness now was concentrated on the great news of his -imminent departure. Suddenly nothing much mattered<span class="pagenum" id="Page_273">[273]</span> -to him except that at last he was off, with his longed-for -chance before him. That was the big thing to him now, -not getting married in haste and leaving a bride behind -him. It was as plain as could be in every word he said, -and in the joyful sparkle in his eyes. Quicksilver in a -tube was Cary Ray—and the mercury had jumped all -but to the top!</p> - -<p>The following hour was as wild a one as only those can -conceive who have had an experience like it. At the end -of it Cary and Jane, Fanny, Nan Lockhart, and Robert -Black stood on the station platform with six minutes to -spare. At almost the same instant Doctor Burns’s car -drew up, and he and Mrs. Burns joined the group.</p> - -<p>“You are all regular bricks, you know,” declared Cary, -“to stand by me like this. Everybody’s here I could have -wanted, except Tom, and since he beat me to a uniform, -and there’s no way of getting his training camp on the -wire in a hurry, I’ll have to go off unsped by him. But I -know what he’d say: ‘This is the life!’ He’s said it to -me at least once a week on a postcard, ever since he left -us.”</p> - -<p>“If you are half as happy to be in it as he is——” began -Nan.</p> - -<p>“I’m twice as happy—no question of it. And I want -to tell all you people——” Cary paused, looked quickly -from one to another, and his bright glance fell. “No, I -don’t believe I can,” he confessed, “at least not in a group -like this. I think what little I can say I owe my sister. -If you’ll forgive me I’ll take her down the platform a bit -and give her my parting instructions.”</p> - -<p>He grasped her arm and walked away with her, the -friendly eyes following the pair. Friendly? Black couldn’t -help wondering just what Fanny was thinking as she<span class="pagenum" id="Page_274">[274]</span> -looked after them. Certainly she was paler than he had -ever seen her—or was that her unaccustomed sombre -attire?</p> - -<p>“Sis,” Cary said in Jane’s ear, “it’s tough to go like -this, after all, with all the things I want to say left up in -the air. I hope you’ll somehow make those trumps back -there know what their friendship has meant to me.—I -say—” he broke off to stare at her—“by George! I didn’t -know you were so easy to look at, little girl. You—you—why -you’re the sweetest thing that ever happened—and -not just soft sweet, either—stingingly sweet, I should put -it.”</p> - -<p>“Dear, you’re just seeing me through the eyes of -parting. Cary, when I get across we can surely meet -sometimes, can’t we? Correspondents have more freedom -of movement than other men, I’m sure.”</p> - -<p>“We’ll try it, anyhow. Janie—I want you to know -how I just plain worship you for sticking by and pulling -me out of the ditch the way you have—you and Bob -Black, and the Doctor. Words can’t say it—but maybe -actions can. I’m taking you three with me—and leaving -behind a girl who doesn’t know whether she wants me or -not. Best thing to do—eh?”</p> - -<p>Well, he was excited, strung to a high tension, eager to -be off—it could be read in his every word and look. He -had barely said these things to Jane before he had her -back with the others, and was getting off gay, daring -speeches to one and another, sometimes aloud, sometimes -under his breath for one ear only. The words he left with -Fanny Fitch stayed with her for many a day.</p> - -<p>“Get into the game, somehow—will you? You can do -that much for me, anyhow. If you will I’ll call it square—of -you.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_275">[275]</span>When he had gone, his handsome, eager face laughing -back at them from the rear platform of his train, Robert -Black found himself following Cary with an involuntary -“God bless and keep you safe, Cary Ray!” the more -fervent that it was unuttered. Suddenly his heart was -very anxious for this audacious and lovable fellow. How -would he come through? Yet it was not of Cary’s life -that he was thinking.</p> - -<p>Determinedly he took his place beside Jane. The party -had dismissed their taxicab, now that the rush for the -train was over, and were walking back. It was no time -to allow circumstances or other people to come between -them.</p> - -<p>“Oh, how I wish,” breathed Jane, “that I could go -this very night. I want so much to get away before—you -do.”</p> - -<p>“And I’m wanting to go before you! If you go first -I shall see you off. If I go first, will you do the same for -me?”</p> - -<p>“Your whole church will be there.”</p> - -<p>“Not if I can help it. But even if they are, it will make -no difference. I shall want to look last at—you.”</p> - -<p>“Did you think,” admitted Jane, smiling, “that I -could possibly stay away?”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_276">[276]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XVI<br /> - - -<small>THE ALTAR OF HIS PURPOSE</small></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">“I THINK maybe—it’s come, Mr. Black.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Hodder, housekeeper to the manse, stood -trembling in the study doorway, a telegram in her hand. -Yes, Mrs. Hodder was trembling. Robert Black would -never know how like a mother she felt toward him. A -lonely, more than middle-aged woman can’t bake and -brew and sew on buttons and generally look after a bachelor -of any sort without coming to have a strong interest -in him—normally a maternal one. And when the bachelor -is one who treats her with the consideration and friendliness -this man had always shown Henrietta Hodder, small -wonder if she comes to have a proprietary interest in -him little short of that belonging to actual kinship.</p> - -<p>Black jumped up from his desk. It was Saturday night, -and his sermon was still in preparation. This was unusual -with him, but everything that could happen had happened, -this week, to consume his time and delay him. Everybody, -it seemed to him, in his parish, had needed his services -for some crisis or other. He was tired of body and -jaded of spirit, and he was extremely discontent with the -outlines for the sermon which he had with difficulty dragged -out of his unwilling mind. And now, in the twinkling -of an eye, everything was changed.</p> - -<p>He read the message in one hurried instant. Yes, it -was here, couched in military language with military<span class="pagenum" id="Page_277">[277]</span> -brevity. He was to proceed at once—nobody in the -Service is ever ordered to go anywhere, always to proceed—and -to report within forty-eight hours to his commanding -officer at a camp at a long distance. This meant—yes, -of course it meant—that he must leave town by the -following evening, Sunday evening. And it meant also, -equally of course, that between this hour and that he must -be practically every minute on the jump. Well, he -couldn’t but be glad of that.</p> - -<p>His weariness vanished like magic. Mrs. Hodder, -watching him read the message, knew by the way he -stiffened and straightened those shoulders of his, which -had been humped over his desk when she came to the door, -that the expected call had come. He looked at her over -the yellow sheet.</p> - -<p>“Yes—this is it!” he said. “I must be off—to-morrow -night.”</p> - -<p>She swallowed a great lump in her throat. “I expect—there’ll -be a many things to do,” she said. “I’ve got -your clo’es in order—I’ve been keeping them mended up, -ready—your socks and all.”</p> - -<p>Black smiled. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her -that not an article of his ordinary apparel would go with -him to France, but he hadn’t the heart just then. It -struck him that Mrs. Hodder was looking a little odd to-night—strangely -pale for one whose countenance was -usually rather florid. Then—he saw her hand shake as -she put it up to smooth back her already smooth gray hair, -an act invariable with her when disturbed in mind. It -came over him that his housekeeper was not just happy -over his wonderful news. And suddenly, he almost understood -why. Not quite. How could he know what ravages -he had committed upon that staid, elderly heart?—he who<span class="pagenum" id="Page_278">[278]</span> -had borne himself with such discretion under this roof -that he had never so much as touched the woman’s hand -except to shake it.</p> - -<p>His own heart suffered, at this instant, its first pang -at the thought of leaving this comfortable home of his -and the ministrations of this plain person who had—yes, -she had done her best to mother him—he knew it now—as -far as a woman could who was shut away by all sorts of invisible -barriers from any real approach. He put out his -hand and took her trembling one and held it in both his -own. He was a chaplain now, he was leaving his parish, -he could do as his will dictated!</p> - -<p>“I want you to know,” he said, “that I appreciate, as -well as a man can, every thought you have taken for me. -You’ve made this house seem as much like a real home as -you could possibly have done. I shall remember it -always.”</p> - -<p>Pale? Had she been pale? She had flushed, in an odd, -mottled sort of way, to her very ears—and the back of her -neck. Her breath seemed to come a little short as she -answered him.</p> - -<p>“But—you’ll be coming back, Mr. Black?” she questioned, -anxiously. “You’re only going for—a while? -I’ll—you’ll—I wanted to speak for the place again, if I -might, when—you come back, sir.”</p> - -<p>Black’s softening face hardened suddenly. “No, I -don’t expect to come back to this parish, Mrs. Hodder,” -he said. “I’m resigning to-morrow.”</p> - -<p>“<i>What’s that?</i>”</p> - -<p>A deep voice boomed from the hall outside, and Black -and Mrs. Hodder turned together. Red appeared in the -doorway of the study, having met the telegraph messenger -coming away just outside the house. He was, by now,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_279">[279]</span> -the sort of friend who follows up a telegraph messenger -on the chance that he may be needed.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Hodder knew her place, if momentarily her master -himself had caused her to forget it. She withdrew her -hand from Black’s and left the room hurriedly; and the -tears which flowed the moment she was out of sight were -not wholly unhappy ones. As for her hand—the hand he -had held so warmly in both his—well, it was a very precious -hand to her now. Like Jane Ray, she had “something -to remember!”</p> - -<p>“What’s that you say?” demanded Red, coming in like -a gathering tornado. “I know you’ve got your orders, or -you wouldn’t be found holding your housekeeper’s hand. -But—what in thunder do you mean by saying you’re -resigning your church?”</p> - -<p>Black sat down on the edge of his desk—he was rather -glad to sit down on something if an argument with R. P. -Burns in his present mood was to take place. Not that -there could be any argument, but he knew the signs of -warfare when he saw them.</p> - -<p>“Why, there’s nothing else to do,” he replied, quietly.</p> - -<p>“Nothing else to do! Do you mean to say they’re not -giving you a leave of absence?”</p> - -<p>Black shook his head. “I’ve not asked for any.”</p> - -<p>“But they know you’re going?”</p> - -<p>“Know I’m likely to go. It was only fair to tell them -that to give them a chance to look around for a successor. -I’ve been perfectly frank with Mr. Lockhart about it. -He’s been skeptical all along as to my getting the call for -a good while yet, but I’ve warned him over and over that -it might come—just as it has come. So—I’m resigning -in the morning, and getting off at night. Good way to -go—isn’t it?”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_280">[280]</span>“Good way for you—and a blamed poor way for some of -the rest of us. See here! Oh, hang that church—what’s -the matter with it? Why, my wife didn’t know this. -She supposes, of course, you’re going on leave. She thinks, -as I did, that the parish has got a string on you that -amounts to a rope, to haul you back with. Do you mean -to say—— Why, confound Sam Lockhart! I thought he -was one of your best friends.”</p> - -<p>“He is.”</p> - -<p>“I know,” admitted Red, “you haven’t been particularly -easy to get along with. You preached war when -they wanted you to breathe peace, ever since you came. -You’ve insisted on picturing the flowing blood over there -when it made some of ’em feel ill just to hear about it. -You’ve had your way about a lot of things, Bob, that they -were accustomed to manage their way. I suspect you’ve -been a thorn in some folks’ flesh—bless your dogged spirit! -But—my faith!”—and his eyes shot fire—“to let you -cut loose and go to war, without—— Why, they ought to -be proud to <i>send</i> you. They ought to take you to the -station with a brass band. They ought——”</p> - -<p>“Oh, see here!” Black slid off the desk-edge, came over -to his friend, and caught him by both shoulders. “You -can’t make people over by roaring at them in my study. -And much as I want to see you, and warm as you make -the cockles of my heart by your roars, I’ve got to put you -out and get down to work. Why, man, do you realize -this changes all my plans for to-morrow in an instant? -I can’t preach the thing I meant to preach—not now. -I’ve had just one text in mind for my last Sunday here, -whenever it should be, and I’ve got to preach on that if -I stay up all night to think it out. And since it’s -already——”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_281">[281]</span>Red pulled out his watch. “Yes, it’s ten o’clock this -minute. All right—I’ll get out. But first—lad——”</p> - -<p>He paused. The flow of his words, which had been well -started for a torrent, halted, ceased. He cleared his -throat. He took his lower lip between his teeth and bit -it savagely, then released it, waited a minute longer, and -spoke. But—could this be Red speaking?</p> - -<p>“Bob,” he said, “before you go—will you take me into -your church?”</p> - -<p>There was a moment’s silence, because Black’s heart -simply stopped—turned over—and then went on again; -and an interval of experience like that always makes -speech impossible. And when he did speak all he could -say was:</p> - -<p>“Oh, Red!”</p> - -<p>“All right. Now, I’ll go.”</p> - -<p>Black’s hand seized his. The two hands gripped till -they practically stopped the circulation in both.</p> - -<p>“I’ll get consent to have a special communion service -in the morning—I should have wanted it anyway. You -know, of course, you’ll have to come before——”</p> - -<p>Red nodded. “I don’t like that part. You’re the -only man I want to come before—but I’ll go through the -usual procedure. I may not measure up to——”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, you will. You’ve always measured up, only -you wouldn’t admit it. Don’t mind about that—just -answer the questions in your own way. See here, Red——”</p> - -<p>But he couldn’t say it, and Red knew that he couldn’t—and -didn’t want him to. Didn’t Red know without being -told that if there was one thing that could take the soreness -out of Black’s heart over having his church let him -go like this, it would be his receiving this other great desire -of his heart? How did Red know that Black wanted him<span class="pagenum" id="Page_282">[282]</span> -in his church? Why, they had become friends! There -need be no other explanation.</p> - -<p>So then Red went away. Where he went doesn’t -matter, just now, though wherever it was he went straight -as an arrow to it—rather, he went straight as one of those -famous seventy-five millimetre shells of the Great War -went to its objective. And when he hit the spot something -blew up and things were never the same again in -that particular place, quite as he had intended they -shouldn’t be. For a new member of the Stone Church—which -he wasn’t—yet—his activities seemed to begin -rather early.</p> - -<p>Black sat down to his new sermon. No, he walked the -floor with it. He had said there was just one text he -wanted for that sermon, and given that text, plus the -tremendous stimulus of the complete change in the situation, -he could hardly stand up under the rush of his -thoughts about it. Instead of ploughing heavily, as he -had been doing, his mind was now working with lightning -rapidity. There was no time to write the new sermon -out, he could only frame its outlines and stop at his desk, -every now and then, to make notes of the filling in. By -midnight it was complete—the last sermon he was to -preach in this church; it might easily be the last he would -ever preach in any church. That didn’t matter; all that -mattered was that he should get his white-hot belief upon -the cold anvil of his audience’s intelligence and there hammer -it into shape till the anvil was as hot as metal, and -something had taken form that had never had form before.</p> - -<p>It was two o’clock when he finally went to bed. It was -four o’clock when he went to sleep, six when he awoke. -When his eyes opened he had a new thing on his mind—and -it was an old thing—a thing he had long meant to do<span class="pagenum" id="Page_283">[283]</span> -and had never done. Strange that it should rise up to -bother him now when the day was already so full! He -tried to put it aside. He was sorry, but it was too late, -now. A pity that he hadn’t seen to it long ago, but it was -certainly too late now.</p> - -<p>Was it too late? And why was the thought of it knocking -so persistently at the door of his plans for the day if it -were not that it was for him to do, after all? Somehow -he couldn’t put it aside—the remembrance of that forlorn -and neglected community, up on the hills, so near and yet -so far, where he had buried Sadie Dunstan, and to which -he had always meant to return—some day. And that -day had never come. Well, he had been incessantly busy—he -could have done no more. Demands upon his time -and strength had called him in every direction but—that. -Yet probably he had been no more needed anywhere than -there. Too bad, but it was most certainly too late -now.</p> - -<p>At seven his telephone rang. It was Red’s voice which -hailed him:</p> - -<p>“I just want to put myself at your disposal for the day -as far as I can cut my work to do it. Jim Macauley says -if you want his seven-passenger for any purpose whatever -consider him yours to command. He thought you might -want to pay some farewell visits or something, and would -like to take a few people along. Plenty of candidates -for the job—you’ll have to pick and choose. What time -do I—face the music?”</p> - -<p>“Just before church, Red—ten o’clock in the vestry -room. I’ve called them all—they don’t know whom it is -they’re to meet. About the car—thank you and Macauley. -I want very much to go up on the hills, where Sue Dunstan -came from, and hold a little open-air service this afternoon.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_284">[284]</span> -I’m going to ask two of my boys to run up there and get -as many people notified as possible.”</p> - -<p>“Great Cæsar! That the way you’re going to spend -your last hours? Why, Ellen is planning to open our -house for all your friends and——”</p> - -<p>“Thank her heartily for me, will you? And tell her -that if she and you will go along with me up there I’ll like -it much better than anything else she can do for me. I -want to take Miss Ray, too, if I may.”</p> - -<p>“Anything you say goes, of course. I told my wife I -doubted if you’d stand for the reception idea, and I don’t -blame you for not wanting it, but—I didn’t expect you’d -want to do a stunt like that. All right—I’ll stand by. -Sure you don’t want to preach to the crowd that’ll be at -the station? Wonderful opportunity—better not miss it!”</p> - -<p>“See you at ten o’clock, Red. Stop joking about this -day of mine.”</p> - -<p>“I’m not joking—I’m just whistling to keep my courage -up. If you think this day is anything but deadly serious -to me——”</p> - -<p>“I know it is. Good-bye—Best Friend!” And Black -hung up the receiver on those last words which he would -hardly yet have ventured to speak if the two men had been -face to face. But his heart was warm with a great love -for Red this day—and a great reverent exultation over -what was soon to happen. Why not speak the words that -soon, call he ever so loudly, could not be heard, except -by the hearing of the spirit?</p> - -<p>He rushed through his breakfast—it was a banquet, if he -had known it, prepared by devoted hands—and all but -ran through the early morning streets to the dismantled -shop and home on the little side street. Sue admitted -him, and took him through to the rear garden where Jane,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_285">[285]</span> -in working dress, was packing a box. She stood up, and -the colour rushed into her face at sight of him.</p> - -<p>“I have my call—I go to-night. I’m the lucky one to -go first and leave you behind. But I’m sorry about that, -too.”</p> - -<p>She pulled off the gloves which had protected her hands, -unfastened her apron, gave both to Sue, and sent her inside -with them. Then she faced him.</p> - -<p>“Somehow I knew it was close at hand,” she said. -“To-night! Well——”</p> - -<p>“This afternoon will you go with Doctor and Mrs. Burns -and me—and Sue—I should like to take Sue—up to the -hills where the Dunstans lived? I want to say a few things -to those people up there before I go. I always meant to do -it, and never seemed to get around to it. Somehow I -can’t go away without doing it. And I want you there.”</p> - -<p>She nodded. “Of course I’ll go. I—yes, I’ll go—of -course. Oh, how glad you are to be off—and how I envy -you!”</p> - -<p>“Are you coming to church this morning?”</p> - -<p>“Oh!—I—think—not.”</p> - -<p>“Jane!”</p> - -<p>She looked up at him and away again. “I don’t think -I—can,” she said.</p> - -<p>He was silent for a minute, studying her. In the bright -light of the Sabbath morning, there in the garden, she had -never seemed to him a more perfect thing. Every little -chestnut hair that grew away from her brow, curving upward -in an exquisite sweep from her small ear, stood out -in that light; the texture and colour of her cheek, the poise -of her head upon her white, strong neck—somehow he -couldn’t help noting these lovely details as he had almost -never noted them before. It was as if he saw her through<span class="pagenum" id="Page_286">[286]</span> -eyes sharpened already by absence and loneliness. He -tried to fix the image of her upon the tablet of his mind—just -the sheer physical image of her, as he might have put -away a photograph in his pocket, to carry with him. Yet -it was something far more subtle than that that he was -trying to fix—her whole personality, body and mind and -spirit—this was what he found himself wanting to take -with him in a way that he could never let go, no matter -how far away from her he might be.</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry you don’t think you can,” he said at last, -gently. “Do you know that I never even asked it of you -before?”</p> - -<p>“Do you ask it now? You only said—‘are you -coming?’”</p> - -<p>“Didn’t that tell the story? I don’t see how I can -quite—bear it—if you don’t.”</p> - -<p>“Then—I will. But I shall sit very far back, and you -may not even see me.”</p> - -<p>“I shall see you—if you are there at all.”</p> - -<p>He had to hurry away then. There was no time to lose -if he would do half the things that must be done that day. -But long afterward in dark and dreadful scenes, the very -antitheses of this one, he could close his eyes and see the -little old garden, with its rows of pink and white and deep -rose hollyhocks against the vine-covered wall, and see Jane -standing in the bright sunlight. He must always remember, -too, what it cost him to stand there beside her, and -watch her, and know that, as with everything he looked -upon that day, it might be for the last time. It had taken -every particle of will he had to leave her. Fortunate for -him that that will had had a long schooling in doing what -it must, not what it would!</p> - -<p>Ten o’clock—and Red at the vestry door. Within<span class="pagenum" id="Page_287">[287]</span> -that door a strange Red, grave and quiet, facing a circle -of surprised and deeply interested men, wondering within -themselves how it had ever come about. A dignified -candidate was this, who answered questions, as Black -had bidden him, in his own abrupt and original way, and -more than once startled his questioners not a little. It -was at least three times that Black had to use all the tact -and discretion at his disposal to prevent a clash of arms -when it came to some technicality which to some man’s -mind was an important one. But in the end they were -satisfied. Not one of them but knew that if Dr. Redfield -Pepper Burns had come to the point where he was willing -to call the old Stone Church his own, it could only be because -some deep antagonism had given way—and that, -of itself, was enough to commend him to them. Such a -power as Red was in the whole community, he could be in -the church, if he would. And now that he would, they -must let him in, if they were not fools. And fools they -were not—and some of them were of those whose knowledge -is not wholly of earth, because it has been taught of -heaven. So they accepted Red, as well they might, though -he was as far from being a saint as any one of themselves, -nor ever would be one, while he remained below the stars. -The Church Militant is no place for saints, only for -human beings who would keep one another company on -a difficult road—and the company of One who went before -and knows all the hardships—and the glories—of the way.</p> - -<p>Eleven o’clock, and Black in his pulpit. He faced a congregation -which filled every nook and cranny of the large -audience room, and stretched away into the distance in -rooms beyond opened for the emergency. News travels -fast, and this news had gone like lightning about the town, -for a very good reason. Black had summoned only two<span class="pagenum" id="Page_288">[288]</span> -of his young men, despatching them to the hills to go from -house to house there. But these two, before they went, -had done a little despatching on their own initiative, with -the result to be expected. It was a great hour, and too -great honour could not be done.</p> - -<p>As he rose to speak Black’s heart was very full. Jane -was there—he knew, because he had deliberately watched -both doors until he had seen her come in. And she was -not far away in a back seat, as she had said she would be. -Instead, she had permitted an eager young usher, in search -of a place in the already full church, to lead her away down -to the very front, though at one side and almost behind a -tall pillar. He had seen her slip into this pew, evidently -asking to change places with a child who had the pillar -seat, one well screened from the rest of the congregation. -Once Black had seen her safely in this place, so near him, -he breathed more deeply. He could forget everything -now, except this, his last chance, with that molten metal -he had been making ready for this hour.</p> - -<p>“<i>And He, bearing His cross, went forth into a place called -the place of a skull, which is called in the Hebrew Golgotha.</i>”</p> - -<p>What happens, in the hour when a man gives himself -to a task like this; when all that he is, or ever hopes to be, -he lays upon the altar of his purpose? Human he may be, -and weak, utterly inadequate, as far as his own power -goes, to do the thing he longs to do. And yet—well, -many a man knows what it is to feel his spirit suddenly -strengthen with the hour of need, to feel pour into it something -intangible yet absolutely real and definite—and -Divine—to know himself able to take the minds and -hearts and wills of men into his two human hands and -mould them in spite of themselves. And this, as he had -hoped and prayed upon his knees, was what happened to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_289">[289]</span> -Robert Black this last morning of his ministry to these -people. He could not have asked for a greater gift—no, -not if by putting out his hand he could have taken Jane’s -hand and led her away with him. For that hour, at least, -as he had wished, the man was lost in the priest; he was -consecrated, heart and soul, to his task. How should -those before him resist him—the messenger who spoke -to them with the tongue of inspiration? For so he spoke.</p> - -<p>Christ upon the battle-field—that was his theme. Of -itself it was a moving theme; as he made use of it it became -a glorious one. Those who listened seemed almost to see -a manly, compassionate Figure moving among His young -soldiers, living in the trenches with them, facing the fight -with them, enduring the long night with them, lifting their -hearts, speaking to their spirits—inhabiting the place of -the skull as they inhabited it—and when the bullet or the -bit of shrapnel had gone home, saying “<i>I am with you, be -not afraid.</i>”</p> - -<p>Who shall describe the preaching of a great sermon? -The pen has not been made which may do more than sketch -the various outlines of either experience—that of preacher -or that of listener, when God thus speaks to human hearts -through human lips. Reporter’s flying pencil may take -down the burning words themselves without an error; -only the shadow of the mountain falls upon the plane of -his notebook. Preacher may only say: “He spoke -through me to-day—somehow I know it”; listener may -only think: “I heard what I never heard before, or may -again.” Only He who inspired the message may know -all that it was or half that it accomplished. So it has -always been, and so it will ever be—on earth.</p> - -<p>The sermon ended; the communion service began. -None went away, as ordinarily some were accustomed to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_290">[290]</span> -do; it was if a spell had been cast upon the audience, it -remained so motionless. Only when, at the very first, -a tall figure with a flaming red head came forward at the -beckoning of Black, did other heads crane themselves -to see. The impossible had happened—no doubt of that. -It couldn’t be; but yes, it <i>was</i> Doctor Burns who was marching -down the aisle, to stand facing Black beside the Table -on which were set forth the Bread and Wine.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_291">[291]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XVII<br /> - - -<small>NO OTHER WAY</small></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><i>“YOU!</i>” It was Jane Ray’s astonished, all but shuddering -thought. “<i>You!</i>—and not—<i>me!</i> Oh, how -can it be? You, who I thought would stay outside with -me—and the like of me—forever, before you would bind -yourself like this. Do <i>you</i> believe the things that he does? -<i>You</i> could never be a hypocrite, Redfield Burns. Are -you doing it for love of Robert Black? No, you wouldn’t -do it, even for that, any more than I would. Then—what -<i>is</i> it?”</p> - -<p>She sat with a white face and watching eyes which -burned darkly beneath her close-drawn, sheltering hat-brim, -while Red took upon himself the vows which Black -administered. When it was done, and Red stood straight -and tall again, and Black looked into his eyes and took -his hand, and said the few grave and happy words of -welcome which end such a service, Jane’s heart stood still -with pain and love—and envy. It seemed to her that -she must get away from the place somehow—anyhow—she -could endure no more.</p> - -<p>But there was no getting away yet. She had to see it -through. And what came next was what Black had told -Mrs. Hodder was to come. All through the service, far -back in her usual place, the gray-haired housekeeper of -the manse had sat, still trembling a little now and then, -waiting to hear the blow fall. She it was who knew, she<span class="pagenum" id="Page_292">[292]</span> -said to herself, the dreadful thing which was coming. -Nobody else, she thought, knew that the minister meant -to resign his charge. She didn’t see why he must resign -it, why he shouldn’t come back. He had been here less -than a year and a half; he was in the full tide of his success; -the big church was his as long as he should choose to -keep it. She wondered how they would take it when they -knew. As for herself, her heart was very heavy. Who -was there, in all the church, who would miss him as she -would?</p> - -<p>He was speaking. She moved her head and managed -to see him through the close-ranged congregation. He had -not gone back to the pulpit, he still stood beside the communion -table, on the floor below, so it was difficult to get -a view of him. He looked very manly and fine, she -thought; his face was full of colour, as it always was when -he had been preaching, and his black eyes were keen and -clear as he looked his people in the face and told them -that he was taking leave of them for good. He used few -words, and what he said was very simple and direct. He -had seen it his duty—and his great, great privilege—to -go over to France, and try to do his part. He had -preached what he believed with all his heart, and now -the time had come to prove that he believed what he had -preached. He said good-bye, and God bless them, and -wouldn’t their prayers go with him that he might be of -all the service to the men of his regiment that he could -know or learn how to be?</p> - -<p>He was withdrawing, that they might act upon his resignation -according to custom, and he had all but reached -the narrow door beside the pulpit when an impressive -figure, that of Mr. Samuel Lockhart, in his well-fitting -frock coat of formal wear, rose in his pew. He motioned<span class="pagenum" id="Page_293">[293]</span> -to Mr. William Jennings, who sat near this door, and -Jennings took a few steps after the departing minister -and laid a hand upon his arm.</p> - -<p>“Don’t go just yet,” Jennings warned him, in an excited -undertone.</p> - -<p>Black turned. Mr. Lockhart spoke his name, and he -turned still farther and looked back at his chief officer. -Why in the world wasn’t he allowed to take himself away -at this juncture? Must he be detained to hear a conventional -farewell, a speech expressing hope that he would -come through unscathed, and thanks for what he had done -for the church in the short time that he had been with -them? There wasn’t much run-away blood in Black’s -make-up, but he was certainly wishing at that instant that -they hadn’t thought it necessary to hold him up, and that -he had taken those steps toward the door fast enough to -get through it and close it behind him before he could be -stopped. And then for the hillside and his open-air talk. -<i>That</i> was what he wanted most—and next! It seemed -to him he couldn’t breathe any longer, here with the -flowers and the people and the organ music and the stained-glass -windows! It was his church no longer.... -Suddenly he knew that his heart was even sorer than he -had thought it was.</p> - -<p>But there was nothing to do but face it. So he did -turn about, and came forward a few steps, and stood waiting. -They were all looking at him—all those people—and -some of them—why, yes, he could see spots of white -all over the church, which grew momently thicker. Could -it be that so many people as that were—crying? That -sore heart of his gave a queer little jump in his breast. -Why, then—they cared—or some of them cared—because -he wasn’t coming back!</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_294">[294]</span>“Mr. Black”—Samuel Lockhart cleared his throat—“we -have something to say to you before you go. We -want you to know that we deeply appreciate all that you -have done for this church in the short time you have been -with us”—(yes, Black had known that was what he would -say)—“and that though some of us have not always agreed -with you in your views on certain points, we have been -unable not to respect you. You yourself can testify that -we have listened to you, as we have listened to-day, with -close attention, always—you have compelled it. But -to-day we have listened with a new respect, not to say a -deep admiration for you.” (Black braced himself. -His eyes were fixed steadily upon those of his chief officer. -He told himself that it would be over sometime, and then -he could get away.) “And we have listened with something -else—with a sense of possession such as we have -never had before.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Lockhart cleared his throat again. Evidently -this speech was tough on him, too. What in the world did -the man mean? A sense of possession—of what?</p> - -<p>“You see, we are not merely saying good-bye to you, -Mr. Black. That of itself would be enough to make this -occasion one long to be remembered. In fact, we are not -saying good-bye at all, we are saying ‘Till we meet again!’ -For—if you will have it so—though you are leaving us for -the time being, you are going over to do what you consider -your part in the war—<i>as our representative</i>. The Stone -Church refuses your resignation, sir. Instead, it grants -you a year’s leave of absence which it will extend if you -ask it at the end of that period. And it says to you: Godspeed -to <i>Our Minister</i>!”</p> - -<p>There was a stir, a murmur throughout the big audience. -Handkerchiefs were held suspended in mid-air while<span class="pagenum" id="Page_295">[295]</span> -everybody tried his or her best to see the face of Robert -Black. In his pew Redfield Pepper Burns had grown -redder and redder, till his face rivalled his hair in vividness. -Behind her pillar Jane Ray had grown whiter and whiter, -as she tried to stifle her pounding heart. At the back of -the church young Perkins, usher, all but gave out an -ecstatic whoop, and pinched the arm of a neighbouring -usher till it was an inflamed red, the victim only grinning -back joyfully.</p> - -<p>“You surely know,” said Robert Black, when he could -command his voice, which it took him a full minute to do—“that -a man must go with a braver heart in him if he goes—for -others, than if he goes by himself. I thank you—and -I accept the commission. God help me to be worthy -of your trust.”</p> - -<p>Of course he couldn’t get off till he had had his hand -wrung by several hundred people, during which process, -as he had expected, Jane slipped away. They wept over -him, they smiled tearfully at him, they all but clung to -him, but he could bear it now. If he suspected that it -was Red who had done this thing for him at the last—the -new member already beginning to make himself felt -with a vengeance!—it was impossible not to see that now -that it was done everybody was immensely glad and -satisfied over it. The hardest heads he had ever encountered -here were among those who were now proud to have -him go from the old Stone Church, the first chaplain in all -that part of the country to offer himself from the ministry. -Oh, yes—no doubt but it was all right now, and Black -would have been a man of iron if that sore heart of his -had not been somewhat comforted.</p> - -<p>He had dinner alone with Mrs. Hodder, refusing a score -of invitations that he might give her this happiness. She<span class="pagenum" id="Page_296">[296]</span> -had been up, baking and brewing, since daybreak, and -he had divined that it would be a blow to her if he brought -even one guest home. He was glad, moreover, of the hour’s -interval in which to draw breath. He did his best to make -the eating of the sumptuous meal a little festival for the -woman opposite him, but in spite of his best efforts it -partook of the character of the parting bread-breaking.</p> - -<p>“You—you won’t be getting into danger so much, Mr. -Black, will you, as if you was a regular soldier?” Mrs. -Hodder suggested timidly, as the dinner drew to a finish -with not more than half the food she had prepared consumed. -It was the first time her thrifty nature had ever -thus let itself go, and she had looked conscience-stricken -ever since she realized the situation. But her question -voiced the thought uppermost in her mind. It took -precedence even of her worry about the terrible waste -of which she had been guilty!</p> - -<p>“Oh, you’re not to be anxious over any danger for me,” -Black assured her, smiling across the table at her. “Just -remember that some day you’ll get up another just such -splendid dinner as this for me, and then we’ll eat it with -better appetites. I shall come back ravenous for home -cooking, as all soldiers do.”</p> - -<p>“Then—you’ll keep the place open for me, sir?”</p> - -<p>“You’ll keep it open for me, Mrs. Hodder. It’s you -who will be in demand for other positions. I’ll think myself -lucky if you promise to come back to me.”</p> - -<p>He was glad to get away now from her tearful face, for -this assurance upset her completely, and she could only -apologize and weep again into a large handkerchief already -damp from the demands made upon it at the morning -service.</p> - -<p>Red and the big Macauley car were at the door now<span class="pagenum" id="Page_297">[297]</span> -with Mrs. Burns, Jane Ray, and little Sue Dunstan already -established in it. They were off and away at once. -Black sat beside Red, and the two fell into talk while -those behind silently watched them. They were an interesting -pair to watch, in conversation.</p> - -<p>“They are so different, one would hardly have expected -them to become such devoted friends,” Mrs. Burns said -to Jane, after a time.</p> - -<p>“Oh, do you think they are so different?” Jane glanced -from the black head to the red one—they were not far -apart. Black’s arm was stretched along the back of -the seat behind Red; he was leaning close and talking -rapidly in Red’s ear. The latter was listening intently; -from time to time he nodded emphatically, and now and -then he interjected a vigorous exclamation of assent. -Evidently, whatever the subject under consideration, -they were remarkably agreed upon it—which had by no -means always been the case in past discussions. Perhaps -they were agreeing to agree to-day, since it was the last—for -so long.</p> - -<p>“They seem to me much alike,” Jane went on, at Mrs. -Burns’ look of inquiry. “Not in personality, of course, -but—well—in force of character, and in the way they both -go straight at a thing and never let go of it till they have -accomplished what they set out to do.”</p> - -<p>“That’s true; it may be the secret of the sympathy -between them. For a long time I thought they would -never get together, but it’s been coming, and now—and -to-day—— This has been such a wonderful day, in spite -of the sadness of it! You were at morning service?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, Mrs. Burns.”</p> - -<p>“None of us will ever forget it.”</p> - -<p>“No.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_298">[298]</span>The big car had them up in the hills in short order. As -they came over the last steep rise Red whistled sharply -with surprise.</p> - -<p>“My faith!” he ejaculated. “Where do they all come -from, in this God-forsaken region!”</p> - -<p>“God hasn’t forsaken it. That’s a man-made phrase. -But they can’t all come from this locality. I should say -not—and they haven’t.... Why, there are my boys—any -number of them. Well!”</p> - -<p>Black leaped out of the car, which had been instantly -surrounded. Here they certainly were, ranks upon ranks -of boys and young men, not only from his church but from -the town outside. Everyone of them wore a tiny American -flag on his coat-lapel.</p> - -<p>“You see,” explained young Perkins, lively usher at the -Stone Church, “we didn’t see how we could spare you to -come off up here this last day unless we came along. -Please excuse us for butting in, but we couldn’t stand it -any other way.”</p> - -<p>“We mean it as a sort of guard of honour,” declared a tall -boy, just out of short trousers, and extraordinarily disputatious -for his age, with whom Black had held many a -warm argument in past days. “Besides, we——”</p> - -<p>Evidently something was on the tip of his tongue which -had to be suppressed, for he was hauled off by Perkins -in a hurry while others took his place. The young men -all seemed much excited, and Black had to bring them -to order lest they put the rest of his audience in the -background. There were plenty of men and women, -and even children present, who were obviously from the -hill region, and these were they whom he had come to -meet.</p> - -<p>Under his direction Perkins shortly proved that his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_299">[299]</span> -talents as an usher could be exercised quite as well in the -open air as under the stately roof of the home church. -He soon had the assemblage massed on a side hill which he -had selected as a sort of amphitheatre where all could see -and hear the man who stood upon the flat and grassy -plateau below. From this point of vantage presently -Black spoke to them.</p> - -<p>One of the reporters of the morning, at the edge of the -crowd, sat taking notes in the very shortest of shorthand. -He needed all his powers now, even more than he had -needed them in the morning, for Black spoke fast and -crisply, as a man speaks when he feels the time is short -and there is much to say. As the young reporter set down -his dots and dashes he was subconsciously exulting to -himself: “Gee, but I’m glad I got in on this! What a -bully story this’ll make!”</p> - -<p>It did make a story, but it was one which like that of -the morning could never be fully written. The words -Robert Black spoke now were not words like those of the -morning. He was looking into faces whose aspect gripped -his very soul; it seemed to him that they had all the same -expression—one of exceeding hunger. Even his boys—though -he was not talking now to them—were watching -him as those watch who are being fed. There is no look -like that to inspire a man, to draw out his best and biggest, -and it drew Black’s now, beyond anything of which he had -before been capable. The day, the hour, the near approach -of his departure, that “last chance” conviction -which had spurred him all day—all these facts and forces -combined to make of this final, most informal service he -was to hold in his own country for many a day the richest -and most worthy of them all. If it were not so, then those—Black’s -nearest friends—who listened with greatest<span class="pagenum" id="Page_300">[300]</span> -appreciation and best capacity for judgment, were mightily -deceived.</p> - -<p>Red stood with folded arms at the very back of the -audience, his hazel eyes seldom leaving the figure of his -friend. What was in his heart none could have told. His -face was set like a ruddy cameo as Ellen his wife looked -up at it now and again. Beyond him Jane Ray stood beside -a great elm; she leaned a little against it, as if she -needed its support. It was a tremendous hour for her, -following, as it did, all the repressed emotion of the morning. -Her face had lost much of its usual warm colour,—her -fine lips tensed themselves firmly against possible -tremor. Could she live through the day, she asked herself -now and then—live through it and not cry out a recantation -of the old position of unbelief, not call to Heaven -to witness her acceptance of a new one, passionately believing—and -then run into the arms she knew must open -for her? But she was dumb. Even he would not trust -a change in her now, she was sure, though his eloquence -this day had been that to sway far harder hearts than hers. -No, she must let him go—there was no other way. She -had made her bed and heaped it high with distrust and -scorn, and she must lie on it. Even for him she could not -take up that bed and walk!</p> - -<p>Black ceased speaking. The hush over the hillside, -for the full minute following, was that of the calm before -the storm. Then—the storm came. Black’s young men—twenty -of them from the Stone Church—and eleven -from the town, thirty-one in all—stirred, looked about at -one another, nodded one to another, came forward together.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Black,” said young Perkins, simply enough—fortunately -he had not tongue nor taste for oratory—“some<span class="pagenum" id="Page_301">[301]</span> -of us have decided not to let you go ‘over there’ -alone. Of course we can’t go with you, though we’d like -to mighty well. But we can enlist—and that’s what -we’re doing—to-morrow morning. We thought you’d like -to know.”</p> - -<p>Back up the hillside a smothered sound burst from -Red’s throat—a queer sound between a groan and a laugh. -If Black had heard it, he would have understood what it -meant, and his heart would have ached harder than ever -for his friend. His wife did understand, and she slipped -her hand into his, where he crushed it till it ached with -pain, and she did not withdraw it. Beside them Jane -Ray bit her lips until they all but drew the blood. Was -there no end, then, to the breaking tension of this incredible -day?</p> - -<p>“I do like to know,” said Robert Black, his eyes fiery -with joy and sorrow and all the things a man may feel -when a group of young patriots offer their all, unknowing -half what it means, but understanding enough to make the -act enormously significant of forming character, “and -I’m proud and happy beyond words.”</p> - -<p>A hulking young giant from the hills stumbled forward, -and spoke diffidently from the edge of the group:</p> - -<p>“I guess I’ll be goin’ too,” he said.</p> - -<p>Perkins whirled. “Bully for you!” he shouted, and -made a flying wedge of himself through the other fellows, -to shake the giant’s brawny hand.</p> - -<p>There came a second hill boy, younger and slighter than -the first. “He’s my pardner,” he said, with an awkward -gesture toward the other. “I guess if he goes, that’ll -mean me too.”</p> - -<p>There were four of these. Fathers and mothers rose -in protest. The first lad turned and faced them.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_302">[302]</span>“Looky here!” he called defiantly. “We ain’t goin’ -to let them city fellers do our fightin’, are we? Not on -your life!”</p> - -<p>That settled it. They were not going to let anything -like that happen—not on those unhappy lives of theirs.</p> - -<p>It was over. The car got away from the last clinging -young hand that would have detained it, and in the long -shadows of the late afternoon swung down the hills to the -plain below, and the big town, and the last hours of the -day. When at length it halted in Jane’s narrow street -beside her door, above which her little sign no longer hung, -Black, getting out with her and Sue, said a word in Red’s -ear. The other shook his head.</p> - -<p>“We’ll wait,” he insisted. “You’ve mighty little time -to spare now, if you have a bit of a snack with us before -your train goes. And I vow we won’t let you off from -that.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t want to be let off. Give me five minutes here, -and I’ll be with you.”</p> - -<p>“We will come back for you at train time, Miss Ray,” -said Mrs. Burns.</p> - -<p>“You don’t think best to ask her to supper with us?” -questioned Red, as the others disappeared into the now -empty shop.</p> - -<p>“I asked her and she refused. I knew she would.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t wonder. These blamed last stunts——”</p> - -<p>Red lapsed into a dark silence, his chin sunk upon his -broad chest.</p> - -<p>Within the shop Black turned to Sue. “Go out in the -garden, and wait, will you, Sue?” he asked, with the smile -which the child would have obeyed no matter what request -had gone with it. Reluctantly she closed the shop door -behind her. In the dismantled, empty place, where he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_303">[303]</span> -had first met Jane nearly eighteen months before, Black -said what he had come in to say.</p> - -<p>“I shall write—and you will answer. We can’t do without -that, can we? And there’s no reason why we should. -Is that understood?”</p> - -<p>“If you wish it.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t you wish it?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you for standing by me this day. I know it’s -been hard for you. I couldn’t help that—I had to have -you. You’re not sorry—you stayed by?”</p> - -<p>“No.”</p> - -<p>“Jane—there are a thousand things I want to say to -you, but they’ve all got to go unsaid—except one. Wherever -I am—wherever you are—it will be the same with -me. There’ll be no one else—there never can be, now. -I wanted you to know—if you didn’t know already.”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“Haven’t you a word to say to me—Jane?”</p> - -<p>She shook her head, trying to smile. “What is there -to say? Except—good-bye.”</p> - -<p>“I wish I could put words into your lips,” cried Robert -Black, under his breath. “I want to hear you say them -so. At least—Jane—I can’t go without—once more——”</p> - -<p>She was silent. It was somehow as if her will were in -shackles, and held her so she could neither move nor -speak. When they had been together at the seashore it -had been she who had said the more, she who had forced -the issue. Now—she was like a dumb thing, suffering -without power to free herself. It seemed to her that her -heart must break if he did not take her in his arms, and -yet she could not show him that heart. The whole day -had seemed to build a barrier mountains high between<span class="pagenum" id="Page_304">[304]</span> -them, which she could do nothing to lower. Her hands, -pressed close to her sides as she stood before him, made -themselves into fists, the nails pressing into the firm pink -palms until they all but cut the flesh.</p> - -<p>Suddenly he reached down and seized the hands in his, -then looked at them in amazement, as he drew them up -to view, because they did not relax.</p> - -<p>“What does this mean?” he asked her quickly. “Are -you—as unhappy—as that?”</p> - -<p>She lifted her eyes then, and let him see—what he could -not help seeing. It was as far beyond what she had let -him see on that other day as this day in their lives was -greater than that.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Jane!—Oh, my dear!” He could only whisper -the words. “And I have—to leave you!”</p> - -<p>“Yes. Good-bye——” she said again, steadily.</p> - -<p>He let go one of her hands, and with his strong fingers -made her loosen one gripped fist. Then—the other.</p> - -<p>“I can’t bear to see them like that,” he said, with a -queer, tortured smile. “I want——” And he lifted first -one palm and then the other to his lips, and then gently -closed the fingers again. “Don’t hold them so tight again—please!” -he said. “I don’t want to have to remember -them—that way. Jane—I don’t know how to go!”</p> - -<p>“You must. Doctor Burns is waiting for you. Don’t -mind about me.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t mind about you!” It was a cry of pain. -“Why—you’re all I do mind about—now. I’ve done all -the things I had to do to-day—they’re all done—everything’s -done—but this. And this—why, this—is so much -the hardest thing of all——”</p> - -<p>How could he speak at all, she wondered, when she -could not? She did not realize that expression of one<span class="pagenum" id="Page_305">[305]</span> -sort or another was the breath of his life to-day. That -having poured himself out, all day, to others, he could -not cease from giving; that though to-morrow might bring -upon him a silence and an immobility as great as her own, -for to-day his lips must have speech; his spirit, action.</p> - -<p>“Jane—you won’t deny me—I can’t go without it. -God knows our hearts—knows——”</p> - -<p>He left his own heart on her lips then, in one bitter-sweet -moment of such spending as he had never known—or -she—and went away, leaving her alone there in the -deserted shop with the memory of his whispered, “God -bless you—my Jane!” She ran to the window, screening -herself from view as best she could, and saw him get into -the car, and saw the car leap away down the narrow street.</p> - -<p>An hour later she was at the station. Black had not -been in the car when it had come for her; it was full of -other people—the Macauleys and the Chesters, Red’s -neighbours and among Black’s best friends. Mrs. Burns -explained that the minister’s new guard, the boys who were -to enlist to-morrow, had come for him in a body, and had -borne him away in the biggest car they had been able -to find.</p> - -<p>At the station there was the expected crowd, only it -was a larger crowd than any of them could have anticipated. -It was evening now, and almost dark, and it was -beginning to rain. The station lights shone on banks of -lifted umbrella tops; the little flags in the young men’s -coats grew wet. People went about saying what a pity -it was that it had to rain. And if it hadn’t been Sunday -night there would have been a band. Jane found herself -very thankful that there was no band. And then, suddenly, -there was a band—a small one, playing “Onward, -Christian Soldiers,” and the crowd was singing with it.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_306">[306]</span> -Jane wondered, through her dumb pain, how Robert -Black was bearing that!</p> - -<p>Red was out of the car and off in the crowd—no doubt -but he was with Black. He had been heard to express the -hope that the blamed train would be on time and cut the -agony short, but of course it wasn’t. It was only ten -minutes late, however, though to Jane those ten minutes, -marked by the clock on the car’s dash, were the longest -she had ever known. Then—there was the shrill whistle -in the distance she had been waiting for, coming at an -interval in the music, and she heard it plainly, and her -heart stopped beating.</p> - -<p>Black and Red were at the door of the car—they had -had to push their way through the people. Black was -shaking hands with Mrs. Burns—with Mrs. Macauley—with -everybody. Then Jane felt her hand in his, and lifted -her eyes to meet his. The headlight from another car -shone full in his face; she saw it as if it looked at her from -very far away. But his eyes—yes, she could see his eyes—and -see how they were piercing hers, as if he would look -through to her very soul for that last time—oh, she was -sure it was for the last time!</p> - -<p>He did not say a word to her—not a word. But his -hand, for that instant, spoke for him. Then he had gone -away again, through the crowd, for the train was in, and -the locals made but short stops. A shout went up—Black’s -young men waved their arms, their flags—their -umbrellas—everything they had.</p> - -<p>He stood on the back platform, as he so often had stood -before, when the train pulled out. He looked back at -them, the crowds, the flags, the umbrella tops—but he saw -only one thing—the thin, gleaming rails, stretching away, -farther and farther into the distance—and the night.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_307">[307]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XVIII<br /> - - -<small>AT FOUR IN THE MORNING</small></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">THE morning papers! How many did Red have of -them?</p> - -<p>Robert Black had been away for almost a year. Jane -Ray’s little shop had been so long closed that few now -turned down the narrow street, forgetting that the sign -no longer told where the rarest and most valuable things -in town surely could be found. People had ceased to ask -who was the tall young man with the interesting face who -was said to write the most brilliant articles to be found in -certain columns of one of the great dailies. Tom Lockhart -was gone, and Harry Perkins, and many another figure -from the suburban streets. Only an occasional youth -could be seen now and then upon a delivery wagon. -Girls were everywhere, taking the places of the young -men who had gone. Everything was changed—everything; -now that war had come so near that it could be -felt.</p> - -<p>Those morning papers! Red bought and bought, not -satisfied with the morning and evening editions delivered -at his door. He came home with bundles of them under -his arm, and scanned them hurriedly, his face darkening -as he read. For the news was heavy news, of losses and -reversals, of a gathering tide which could not be stemmed, -of worn and wasted French and British regiments falling -slowly but surely back because it was not possible to hold<span class="pagenum" id="Page_308">[308]</span> -another hour against the tremendous odds of reinforced -enemy lines.</p> - -<p>“When will we get in? Great God, those fellows can’t -hold out forever!” Red would shout, dashing the latest -paper to the floor where its black and ominous headlines -seemed to stare back at him with the inescapable truth -in each sinister word. “We’ll get into it too late—they -can’t stand such awful pressure. Oh, if we’d been ready!—instead -of sleeping on our arms. Arms—we hadn’t -any—though they kept telling us—the men who knew. -We thought we were fine and fit—we—fat and heavy with -easy lives. Yes, we’re awake now but we’ve a long -way yet to run to get to the fire, and meanwhile, the -world is burning up!”</p> - -<p>So he would rage, up and down the long living room -in his own home, unable to find a ray of light in the whole -dark situation. Even more poignant than these were his -anxieties of a personal sort. Where—when he stopped -to think about it—was Robert Black, that he hadn’t been -heard from now for many weeks? Black had gone across -with one of the first divisions, one made up of men many -of whom had had former army training, men fit to fight -at once, who had gone away believing that they would soon -see active service. By great good fortune—or so Black -had esteemed it—he had been sent for at the last minute -to take the place of an old regimental chaplain who had -fallen seriously ill. The substitute’s early and persistent -applications for a post had commended him as one who -meant to go anyhow, and so might as well be given the -opportunity first as last. That was the sort they had -wanted, for that was the sort they were themselves.</p> - -<p>“Why, Bob’s last letter’s dated a good two months -back,” Red announced, one June morning of that second<span class="pagenum" id="Page_309">[309]</span> -summer, scanning the well-worn sheets. How many -times had he read that letter, his wife wondered as she -saw him consulting its pages again. Black wrote remarkably -interesting letters. In spite of censorship he somehow -managed to get in all sorts of vivid paragraphs in which not -the sharpest eye could detect forbidden information—there -was none there. But there was not lacking keen -character drawing, graphic picturing of effect of sun and -shadow, stimulating reactions, amusing anecdote. Red -had never enjoyed any correspondence in his life as he -had that with the chaplain of the ——th regiment, -——th division. And this was for many reasons, chief -of which was the great and ever-growing bond of friendship -between the two men, which separation just after -it had been made forever secure had only served incredibly -to strengthen and augment.</p> - -<p>“I don’t understand it. I don’t like it. I wish I could -hear,” Red complained, replacing the thin sheets in the -now tattered flimsy envelope with the foreign postmarks -and the official stamps of various sorts which proclaimed -it a military missive. “He was writing fairly regularly -up to that date, but then he stopped short off, as if he -had been shot. Oh, I didn’t mean that—queer how -that old common phrase needs to be avoided now. It’s -none too improbable, either, in his case, if he ever gets -near the Front. He’ll be no rear-guard sort of chaplain—that’s -easy enough to know.”</p> - -<p>He went off about his work, on this particular morning, -with a heavier heart than usual. He hadn’t counted up -before, just how many weeks it was since he had heard -from Black; he only knew that he had been scanning the -mails with a disappointed eye for a good while now. -Where could Black be—what had happened to prevent<span class="pagenum" id="Page_310">[310]</span> -his writing as before? Hang it!—Red wished he could -hear this very day. His mental vision called up clearly the -man’s handwriting on the foreign envelope; he always -liked the look of it so well. It was rather a small script, -but very clear, black, and full of character; the t’s were -invariably crossed with vigour, and there were only straight -forward marks, no curlycues. He wished he could see -that handwriting within the hour, wished it with a queer -certainty that he should most certainly not see it, either -to-day or to-morrow. Black was somewhere off the line -of communication, he grew surer and surer of it.</p> - -<p>As the day advanced Red found his presentiment that -his friend was close to danger amounting to a conviction. -Red was not an imaginative person, and ordinarily he was -a persistent optimist; to-day it seemed to be impossible -to summon a particle of optimism concerning either the -duration of the war or the personal safety of the man he -cared for so deeply. He did care for him deeply—he no -longer evaded or made light of his affection for Robert -Black. What was the use? It was a fact accomplished; -nothing that happened or didn’t happen could now change -it; everything seemed to intensify it.</p> - -<p>Close to eleven o’clock of the evening of this day Red -was returning from a call which had taken him out just -as he was beginning to think longingly of rest and sleep. -Passing a news-stand he had bought the latest evening -edition of the latest city daily sent out to the suburbs, -and had found in it only a deepening presage of coming -disaster to the armies of the Allies. This paper was sticking -out of his pocket as he walked wearily along the deserted -streets of the residence district, through a night -air still and heavy with the lingering heat of the day. He -took off his hat and mopped his forehead. Was it hot and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_311">[311]</span> -still and heavy with languor and dread over there at this -hour, too, he wondered, up on that bending Western front? -Or were the shells bursting and the sky red and yellow with -the flares of the guns, and black with smoke and death? -Allowing for the difference in time it was almost four in the -morning over there. Wasn’t it about this hour that things -were apt to happen, over there, after a night of waiting? -Wasn’t this often the “Zero” hour—“over there”?</p> - -<p>To reach his own home he would naturally go by the -manse, unless he went a little out of his way. It must be -confessed that Red had acquired the habit, since Black -left town, of going that little out of his way, when coming -home at night from this part of town, to avoid passing the -Stone Church and the deserted manse close by in its large -shadow. He didn’t know quite why he should have -yielded, at first unconsciously, afterward with full recognition -of his feeling about it, to the wish not to see the drawn -shades and darkened windows of his friend’s former habitation. -But on this evening, somehow, almost without -his own consent he found himself turning at that corner -to go by the house.</p> - -<p>Dark? Yes, it was dark—almost darker than usual, it -seemed; though this was undoubtedly because the nearest -arc-light was burning more feebly than ordinarily to-night. -Anyhow, the place was enveloped in gloom. It -presented a very different aspect from that which had belonged -to it during the term of Black’s residence. His -study had been one of the big square rooms upon the -front, its windows always lighted in the evening, the -shades drawn only low enough to insure privacy, not to -prevent the warm glow of the study light from telling its -friendly tale of the occupant within, at home to all comers -at all hours, as he had been at pains to make understood.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_312">[312]</span>Red didn’t like to look at those dark windows. Many -and many a time during the last months before Black’s -departure, after the friendship between the two men had -become a known quantity no longer negligible, the big -doctor had turned aside from the straight road home to -make a late call in that study, the light beckoning him -more and more irresistibly. Weary, or blue, or fuming -over some unlucky or harassing happening in his work, -he had gone stumbling or storming in, always to find a -hearty welcome, and such quiet understanding and comradeship -as soon eased the situation, whether he knew it -then or only afterward. Many a pipe had he smoked -while sitting in Black’s old red-cushioned rocker—to -which he had taken an odd fancy—and many a story had -he told, or listened to.... There could be no pipe-smoking -there to-night, nor telling of stories. The fire -upon that hearthstone was cold. God only knew when it -would be lighted again, or whose hand would light it.</p> - -<p>Red turned in at the walk which led to the manse door. -He did not want to turn in, yet he could not go by. The -lawn before the house was shaven; it had to be kept up -because there was no dividing line between it and the close-cut -green turf which surrounded the Stone Church. Between -the vestry door and side door of the manse ran a -short walk, so that the minister had only a few steps to -take when he crossed the narrow space. Somehow Red -could almost see the tall, well-built figure striding across -that space, the strong face full of spirit....</p> - -<p>He took a turn about the house, completely circling -it, telling himself that now he was here he might as well -see that all was as it should be from front to rear. Returning -to the front, he heard a distant clock in the centre -of the town booming out the slow strokes of the hour—eleven.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_313">[313]</span> -Four o’clock it was then on that Western front, -three thousand miles away. Was Black there—or anywhere -near there? Wherever he was it might be that—well—was -there any reason why Red shouldn’t be able -to get him out of his mind? And was there any reason -why Red shouldn’t do what he was now suddenly impelled -to do? According to Black’s own code there was -every reason why he should do it—and none conceivable -against it. Sentimental superstition?—or great spiritual -forces at work of which he could know nothing, except -to feel their power?</p> - -<p>He went over to the vestry door—a narrow door of -classic outline and black oak austerity, appearing in the -deep shadow like the entrance to the unknown. He leaned -his uplifted arm against it, and rested his bared head -against his arm. Somehow he felt nearer to his absent -friend in this spot than he had ever felt before.</p> - -<p>“O God,” he implored, under his breath, “wherever he -is—take care of him. He’s worth a lot of taking care -of—and he won’t do it himself—somehow I know that. -Just do it for him—will You?”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>On this same night, at a Field Hospital, ten miles back -from the firing line on a certain sector of the French Front, -Jane Ray went about her duties. It was a comparatively -quiet night; no fresh casualties had come in for several -hours, and none was expected before morning.</p> - -<p>Beginning as nurses’ helper Jane had worked and studied -at all hours, had faced several examinations, and was now, -by virtue of the pressing demand and the changed requirements -which in war time hasten such matters, an -accredited nurse with a diploma. She had thought many -times gratefully of a certain red-headed surgeon back in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_314">[314]</span> -the States, who had put her through many grilling tests -of his own since he had learned what she had in view. -Not once but often she had watched him operate; hours -on end had she listened to informal lectures from his lips, -delivered at the back of her shop when custom was slack. -It had all helped immensely in her work of preparation, -and in her dogged purpose to make herself fit for service -in the least possible time. And now she was at the very -goal of her desires, having for the last month been serving -as near the active Front as a nurse may get, the Field -Hospital to which the wounded are sent from the First-Aid -Station.</p> - -<p>It had become to her an almost passionate joy to give -these poor fellows their first sense of real comfort. Though -the resources at hand were often far less than adequate -to the demand, when cases poured in till the hurriedly -arranged accommodations were full to overflowing and there -was no such thing as supplying every need, this was the -time when Jane most exulted in her work. Physically -strong, though she was often weary to exhaustion, a few -hours of sleep would put her on her feet again, and she -would go back to her task with a sense of being at last -where she was born to be. She managed somehow to -give to her patients the impression that no matter how -busy or hurried she might be she had something to spare -for each one of them, and this perhaps was one of the -greatest services she rendered. Skilful though her hands -and brain had become at ministering to the wants of the -wounded bodies, her heart had grown still wiser in its -knowledge of the larger needs of the tried spirits of those -who lay before her. Tender yet bracing was the atmosphere -which she carried everywhere with her. It is the -aura which to a greater or less degree surrounds every<span class="pagenum" id="Page_315">[315]</span> -true nurse, and Jane, in acquiring it, had but learned the -rudiments of her profession. Yet perhaps she had rather -more than the ordinary capacity for divination of the -peculiar and individual necessities of the men under her -care, for certain it was that most of them preferred her -to any of the others, accomplished and devoted though -they all were. It is quite possible that the fact that she -was, as the boys put it among themselves, so “easy to -look at,” may have accounted for a portion of her popularity, -but surely not for all.</p> - -<p>They did not stay long with her; it was a matter of but -a few days in most cases, before they were moved back -to the Evacuation Hospital, many miles in the rear. She -had not time to get to know any of them well; yet somehow -in even that brief interval of experience she and they -usually arrived at a feeling of acquaintance which often -became a memory not to be forgotten.</p> - -<p>On this June night Jane found herself returning more -than once to a certain patient who had been brought in -early in the evening suffering from rather severe injuries. -The surgeons had decided against immediate operation; -he was to be retained here only long enough to recover -from shock, and to be got into shape for the journey back -to the Base. He was only a boy, or looked so, in spite of -the lines which pain had brought into his face. He was -not able to sleep, and for certain definite reasons he had -been given nothing to make him sleep. Each time Jane -came by she found him lying with eyes wide open; restless -of body his injuries did not permit him to be, for he was -strapped and bandaged into a well-nigh immovable position. -Clearly his mind was doing double duty, and being -restless for both.</p> - -<p>As she stopped beside his cot again, he looked up at her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_316">[316]</span> -and spoke, for the first time. His eyes had followed her -all night, whenever she came in range, but she was used -to that. Eyes wakeful at night always follow a nurse; -she is a grateful vision to men long removed from the sight -of women; the very lines of the uniform are restful to -look at. The face beneath the veil-like head-dress need -not be a beautiful one to be attractive; it needs only to be -friendly and compassionate; if it can show a capacity -for humour, so much the better. In Jane’s case, actual -loveliness of feature drew the gaze of those tired young -eyes, many of which had seen only ugliness and horror -for a long, long time. The casualty cases thus far had -been confined almost entirely to the French and British, -with an occasional American enlisted in a foreign division. -It was only within the last few days that the men from -Jane’s own country had begun to come under her care, -showing that at last, as they had so longed to be, they -were “in.”</p> - -<p>This boy, beside whom Jane paused in her rounds, and -who now spoke to her, had had from the first something -familiar about him. But she had not been able to place -him in her remembrance and had decided that it was only -the type she recognized, not the individual. Now, however, -as she bent to catch the low-spoken words, she realized -what had happened; here was a boy from home!</p> - -<p>“You don’t know me, do you?” he said, with difficulty.</p> - -<p>“I almost thought I did, but wasn’t sure. Do you come -from my town and ought I to know you? You see—you -must have changed quite a bit.”</p> - -<p>She was looking intently into his face, and her reassuring -smile answered his wistful one.</p> - -<p>“No, I didn’t expect you to know me, but I—kind of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_317">[317]</span> -hoped—you would. I know you. You was there when -I said I’d enlist—up on the hill.”</p> - -<p>Her thoughts leaped back to that last Sunday of Robert -Black’s departure and to the service on the hillside. Her -face lighted with recognition, and the boy saw it.</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes—I do remember—of course I do. I sewed a -star on a service flag for you and the other three who went -from the hill, and took it up to the schoolhouse before I -went away. I think I know your name.” She racked her -memory hastily for it and found it, and the boy’s eyes were -suffused with joy as she spoke it. “Aren’t you—Enos -Dyer?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I’m Enie Dyer, only I don’t like to be called -that over here ‘cause it sounds like ‘Heinie.’ Say,”—he -scanned her face anxiously,—“know anything ’bout where -the preacher is now?”</p> - -<p>“Mr. Black? Nothing at all. It is weeks since I -had any news of him. His division has been sent up -toward the Front, and they may be in things by now; we -get only rumours here about what is happening on the -other sectors.”</p> - -<p>“I wish I knew,” he said anxiously. “I get to thinkin’ -’bout him a lot. He didn’t know me any, but I knew him -all right. After that time he buried the Dunstan girl -I used to come down to his church. I liked to hear him -talk. But I always skun out the minute things was over, -so he never really did lay eyes on me till that last day. -I don’t s’pose he’d remember me.”</p> - -<p>Jane would have liked to let him say more, to have -questioned him closely, herself eager to hear the least -mention of the name which was always in the background -of her thoughts. But she knew that he must not be allowed -to use his feeble powers in this way. So after assuring<span class="pagenum" id="Page_318">[318]</span> -him that Black was not the man to forget the four -boys from the hill who had enlisted on that memorable -day, she went on upon her rounds, her own mind filled with -the vivid recollections young Dyer’s words had called up.</p> - -<p>But she could not come near him on this night without -his eyes imploring her to give him another word. So -she learned that he was most unhappy lest the injuries -he had received prevent his return to the Front, and was -worrying badly about it. She became presently so interested -in his state of mind that she called the attention -of one of the surgeons to him. Doctor Mills read -the record upon his cot-tag, looked at Dyer keenly through -his big horn spectacles, and smiled, his own tired, thin -face relaxing its tense look of care.</p> - -<p>“You’ll get back, my lad,” he said, “when they’ve -fixed you up. With that spirit you’ll get anywhere.”</p> - -<p>Enos Dyer’s lips trembled. “It’s all right, then,” he -murmured, with a sigh of relief. “I haven’t done nothin’ -yet, an’ I figger to, ’fore I get through.”</p> - -<p>“What were you doing when you got these?” The -surgeon indicated Dyer’s bandaged shoulder and his -slung leg.</p> - -<p>“Just tryin’ a little job o’ my own, sir.”</p> - -<p>“Not under orders?”</p> - -<p>“Well, I guess I was under orders, sir—but the gettin’ -through was sort o’ up to me.”</p> - -<p>“I see. You’re a company runner?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> - -<p>The surgeon went away. Jane did what she could to -induce sleep for Dyer, who needed it badly, but his eyes -were still wide when dawn drew near. By and by, as she -came to give him water, which he drank thirstily, he said -slowly:</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_319">[319]</span>“Did you hear the preacher the time he told about -that feller Daniel in ’mongst the lions?”</p> - -<p>“No, I don’t think so, Enos.”</p> - -<p>“I was just wonderin’ if <i>he</i> was in ’mongst ’em now -anywheres. If he is, I guess he won’t get hurt. I’ve -thought about that story a lot since I heard him tellin’ -it. I guess if God could take care of anybody when lions -was walkin’ all ’round him, He could do it when anybody -was fightin’, don’t you? And I guess the preacher’s -fightin’, wherever he is.”</p> - -<p>Jane’s lips smiled a little. “Chaplains don’t fight, -you know.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll bet <i>he</i> does,” Dyer insisted.</p> - -<p>She didn’t try to change his conviction, but somehow it -took hold of her; and presently, in a strange hush that fell -just before the dawn, when there came a cessation of sound -of the guns which usually were to be heard clearly at this -distance from the Front, she stood in a doorway that faced -the east and took a well-worn letter from her pocket. In -the faint light from within the ward her eyes once more -scanned lines she already knew by heart.</p> - -<p>Letters from Black had reached her infrequently and -the latest was dated weeks ago. Of course he could give -her no details of his movements, neither past nor expected; -she understood also that he could say little of that which -was personal to himself and Jane. No man writes for the -scrutinizing eye of a censor that which he would say to -one alone. Yet somehow he had managed to convey a very -vivid sense of his presence, and of his constant thought -of her, in the midst of his work among his men. The -last paragraph, especially, was one to stay by her while -she should have a memory, reserved though the words -were:</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_320">[320]</span>“I am very sure that in all this experience you are having -you must find the thing I so much want you to find. -How can you escape it? It is all around you. I can’t -get away from it a minute. You know what I mean. I -never felt it so strongly, nor so depended upon it. Every -hour it is in my thought of you. You are well up toward -the Front now, I suppose. At any time a bomb may be -dropped on your Hospital; it is always a shining mark for -the enemy. Yet I am not anxious about you. For this -I know:—whatever happens to you or me, it can do no -harm to the eternal thing which is ours.”</p> - -<p>She read the words again and again. Well she knew -what they meant; in spite of the restraint in them they -were full to the brim with his feeling toward her. Where -was he now—near—or far? There had been a rumour -here that the division in which he served had been suddenly -rushed from its training trenches to the Front, in a -desperate attempt to stem the creeping enemy tide threatening -to become a deluge and wash away all defences. -There were many rumours; few could be trusted. But it -might easily be true; he might at this very hour be under -fire, even though he remained in the shelter of trench or -dugout. Would he stay in such shelter? The question had -never occurred to her in just this form before. Her ideas -of the duties of a regimental chaplain were all based on the -knowledge that he was a non-combatant, like Cary. She -had had far more fears for her brother, with his temperament, -full of recklessness and daring, than for Robert -Black. But now, though she scouted the idea of Black’s -actually fighting, she had a sudden vision of him in danger. -If he had gone with his men up to those front lines, where -was he to-night?</p> - -<p>Suddenly the distant sky-line burst into flame before her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_321">[321]</span> -eyes. She had seen it before, that sky-line, during the -months since she had come to the Field Hospital, but always -before it had been when she was too busy to stop to -look at it. Now, in the brief breathing space, she was at -leisure to study it in all its sinister significance, and to -listen to the distant thunder of the guns.</p> - -<p>He might not be there—she was very sure he was not, -for the returning wounded brought fairly accurate reports -of what divisions were engaged in the fighting in this -sector. But somewhere—somewhere—on that long, bending -line, stretching over so many long miles, and now -grown so thin and in many places so dangerously weak -compared with the ever augmenting enemy forces—somewhere -there he might be. According to that persistent -rumour the American troops who had been rushed forward -were at a point less than twenty miles away. Whatever -happened, however, none of them would come through -this particular Field Hospital, and it might be very long -before she would know definitely how near Black had been -to actual danger.</p> - -<p>She looked at her little service watch—it was just past -four. She must go back: it would not be long now before -the ambulances would be rushing in with the fresh wounded -sent back from that angry sky-line. The stretcher-bearers -would be setting their woeful burdens down before her, -and all she had to give must be theirs, for the hour.</p> - -<p>For a moment she closed her eyes. She still held the -letter in her hand; she lifted it and laid her cheek against -it; then she pressed it to her lips.</p> - -<p>“Oh, wherever you are,” she breathed, “I think you -need me. I think you are thinking of me. But whether -you are or not—I’m there.—Oh, Robert Black—<i>I’m -there</i>!”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_322">[322]</span>In a narrow, winding, muddy ditch—which was all it -was, though it went by another name—with short, ladder-like -places for the ascent of its sides here and there, Robert -Black was waiting, with a detachment of his men, for a -certain hour, minute and second previously fixed by orders -received in the early evening. He was at a crisis in his -experience which he had known would come some day, -but it had been long delayed. Now it was at hand. -These men with whom he had been stationed, throughout -their voyage overseas, their foreign training, and their -slow and tedious progress toward the French Front, were -about to receive their first real test. At that fixed early -morning hour they were going for the first time “over -the top.”</p> - -<p>By now Black knew most of them pretty well. In the -beginning they had received him cautiously, watching -him closely, as a man who comes to a regiment with a cross -on his collar is bound to be watched. They hadn’t particularly -liked their former chaplain, whose place Black -had taken at almost the last hour before they sailed. This -man had never been able to get very near to them, though -he had tried conscientiously and persistently to do so. -They weren’t exactly prejudiced against chaplains—they -supposed they were somehow necessary and unavoidable -adjuncts of military service—but they didn’t see so -very much use in having them at all. So when Black -came they had looked him over curiously and not without -a certain amount of prejudgment.</p> - -<p>The voyage over had been a rough one; a large proportion -of the men had been seasick. Black, who had crossed -the Atlantic many times on those trips back home to see -his mother, was a first-rate sailor, and he had had his first -chance with his men during those long days of storm and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_323">[323]</span> -wet and dark discomfort. He had made the most of it, -though he had taken care not to overdo the effort to bring -cheer to those who if not seasick were mostly homesick, -whether they succeeded in concealing it or not. He had -gone about quietly but efficiently, and the impression he -had given had been that of one who had cast in his lot -with his regiment for better or for worse, though he wasn’t -making any fuss about it.</p> - -<p>When they had reached the other side and gone into -camp, they soon discovered that the first impression they -had had of their chaplain held; that he meant to share -and share alike with them whatever fell to their lot. -Though he rated as captain and had therefore the right -to associate with the officers and to mess with them, -he didn’t seem to be spending much time at it. He -was very good friends with those in authority, who -seemed to like him; but he apparently cared more about -making friends with the private in the ranks than with -the Major, or the Colonel commanding. He was not a -joke-maker; he didn’t slap the boys on the shoulder nor -shout at them; but he carried about with him an atmosphere -of good cheer of a quiet sort. And when, now and -then, it came to a contest of wits, and somebody tried -to put the chaplain in a corner, he was sure to find his -way out with a quick and clever retort which brought the -laugh without making things too uncomfortable for the -cornerer—unless he deserved it, in which case he was -pretty sure to wish he hadn’t spoken.</p> - -<p>As to preaching—they crowded to hear him, after the -first tentative experiment. The same unescapable logic, -the same clear and challenging appeal, the same unafraid -plain-speaking which had won Redfield Pepper Burns won -these men—who were only boys after all. When it came<span class="pagenum" id="Page_324">[324]</span> -to the matter of preaching they were keen and merciless -critics. They didn’t want to be talked down to; they -didn’t like to be beguiled into listening with song and -dance; they wanted a man if he were going to speak to -them at all to do it without mincing, or setting traps for -their attention. They wanted him to look like a man and -act like a man—and unequivocally and all the time <i>be</i> -a man. In the nature of things, it wasn’t difficult for -Robert Black to fill this bill. A great many words have -been written in the effort to tell what soldiers want—if -they want anything at all—from their chaplain. They -are not hard to satisfy, critical though they are and pitiless, -when they detect failure to measure up to their requirements. -The greatest of these requirements is certainly -simple enough and just enough; it’s only what is required -of themselves, which is to be men and comrades, to the last -ditch.</p> - -<p>It was not the last ditch, but the first one, to which they -had come this night. The trench was like other trenches, -but they had not been in a front-line trench before; somehow -it seemed different. The troops whose place they -had taken were worn and dog-weary, they had quitted -the place with evident satisfaction; they had held it five -days after they had expected to be relieved—it was a -mighty good place to get out of. And now, it was the new -arrivals’ turn to face the music of the shells and the -machine-gun fire and the snipers’ bullets—and all the -rest that was waiting for them. Their chance had come -at last.</p> - -<p>Black had been ordered to stay in the rear, but he had -courteously disputed the order, had had it out with his -superior officer and had been told to go along. This, -he understood, was a mere matter of form, to try him out.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_325">[325]</span> -A chaplain had a perfect right to go where he would with -his men, provided he had the nerve. And why shouldn’t -Black have the nerve? He had been cultivating it for a -good many years now, and having been born in Scotland -he had started out with rather more than his share of it -in the beginning. Besides, are shot and shell the only -things to try what a man is made of?</p> - -<p>The men in the trench liked having their chaplain with -them; there could be no doubt of that, though they by no -manner of means said so. They hadn’t been expecting -to have him accompany them to the very Front, and when -he came along as a matter of course they were glad of it. -His uniform by now was quite as mud-stained and worn -as theirs; the only difference was that they were expecting -to get bullet holes in theirs, while his, they considered, -with any sort of luck would be kept intact. Even so, -he was a good sport to stay by until the very last moment, -and they appreciated it. He was a comfortable sort to -have around. He wasn’t old enough to be the father of -any of them, but he was something like an older brother. -And there was one thing about him they very definitely -enjoyed, and that was his smile. It wasn’t a broad grin, -but it was a mighty nice one, and when any man had said -something that brought that pleasant laugh to Bob’s lips, -that man always felt decidedly warm and happy inside. -Because—well—the chaplain didn’t go around grinning -conscientiously at everybody all the while, and his smile -wasn’t the easiest thing in the world to win. Yes, the -secret is out—they called him “Bob” behind his back, -and they called him that because they liked him in that -capacity of elder brother. To his face they called him -“Parson.”</p> - -<p>It was very still and dark in the trench; the raid was to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_326">[326]</span> -start with the opening of the barrage which would cover -the advance. Night—and darkness—and quiet—and -the hour before dawn at which the courage of the sons of -men is at its lowest—no wonder that hearts beat fast and -faces slackened colour beneath the tan, and the minutes at -once crawled and raced. They were unquestionably -nervous, these boys, hard as they tried to keep cool as -veterans. How would they acquit themselves?—that -was the thing that worried them. For the fact was that -in this particular company there was not one who had ever -seen actual warfare; they were all yet to be tried.</p> - -<p>Black went from one to another, taking whispered -messages, hastily scrawled notes, which they gave to him, -and making clear his understanding of the various requests. -They all wanted to shake hands with him, seeming -to feel that this was the proper farewell to take of him -who was to stay behind. He wasn’t armed, though he -wore a helmet and gas mask, like themselves; his hands -were free to take their consignments, as his spirit was free -to put courage into them. Not that they realized that -he was doing it; all they knew was that somehow after -they had had a word with him, and felt that warm handshake -of his, they knew that they were stronger. He -believed in them—they understood that—and they meant -to measure up. That was about what his presence -amounted to, which was quite enough.</p> - -<p>One boy, a slender fellow, not long out of hospital where -he had been sent for a run of an epidemic disease, came to -Black at almost the last moment with a diffident question. -“Parson,” he whispered, “I want you to do something -for me. If I—if I should get scared out there—or anything—and -the boys should know about it—and it got -around—or anything—I—I—wish you’d see it didn’t<span class="pagenum" id="Page_327">[327]</span> -get back to my Dad. He—always said I’d get over bein’—shaky—when -the time came. But—Parson, would you -think it was awful wrong to—lie about it for me a little? -You see, it would cut Dad up like everything—and I -couldn’t bear——”</p> - -<p>Black put his lips close to the young ear. “I won’t -have to lie, Joe,” he said. “I haven’t the least doubt -of you—not the least. Do you get that? I’m telling -you the absolute truth.”</p> - -<p>In the darkness Joe smiled. After a moment he whispered -back. “Well, I guess I’ll have to buck up,” he said.</p> - -<p>“You’ve bucked up now,” came back the whisper, and -Black’s hand clasped his arm tight for an instant. “What -a muscle you’ve got, Joe!” he declared.</p> - -<p>The arm stiffened, the muscle swelled. “You bet,” -agreed the boy proudly, and hitched up his cartridge -belt. “That’s what trainin’ does to a fellow. Well—good-by, -Parson.”</p> - -<p>“God be with you, Joe! He will—remember that.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir—if you say so.” And Joe walked away, -less “shaky” than he had come.</p> - -<p>Then, presently, it was the “Zero” hour. With the -first boom and crash of the covering barrage the men were -up and over the top. The farthest man in the line was -Joe. No, not the farthest, though Joe had been assigned -that place, for beyond and beside him, as he went over, -was Robert Black.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_328">[328]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XIX<br /> - - -<small>A SCARLET FEATHER</small></h2> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p><span class="smcap">Dear Sis</span>:</p> - -<p>I’m going to cease setting down the big stuff for a space, while -I write to you. I’m just back with a whole skin from spending -the night up a tree watching this man’s army pull off a great stunt -in the way of a surprise for the enemy. I’ve sent off my stuff for -my paper and am now resting up—but a letter is due you, and -I’ve found a way to get it to you by special delivery. The messenger -starts in half an hour by motorcycle for your sector, and -vows he’ll put it in your hands as soon as he’s handed over his -dispatches to the C. O. So I can let myself go a bit—if I scrawl -fast.</p> - -<p>I’ve had great luck this last month in meeting up with at least -three people whom you’ll like to hear about. First:—R. M. B.—by -the merest chance, for an hour later I’d have missed him. I -simply turned a corner in a little French town where I’d stopped -with an officer who was taking me with him up to the Front, and -ran square into a black-eyed chap with a cross on his collar who -was so tanned and so husky I didn’t snap to for a full minute. -He did, though—and had me gripped with a grip like a steel trap. -“Cary Ray!” he shouted. I knew the voice—I couldn’t forget -that voice in a hurry—and of course instantly then I knew the -man. Jolly! Jane, you ought to see him.</p> - -<p>Well, he hadn’t a minute to spare for me, unless I’d go with -him. “Sure thing,” I agreed. “I’ve got an hour to spare while -Major Ferguson checks up with G. H. Q. here. What’s your -little party?”</p> - -<p>“It’s a burial party,” said he, looking me in the eye, same as -usual. “If you haven’t had that particular experience, it won’t -hurt you, and on the way we can talk things over.”</p> - -<p>As it happened I’d passed up the funerals, thus far, being occupied<span class="pagenum" id="Page_329">[329]</span> -exclusively with the living and those on the other side -I wanted to see dead. Anyhow, it was worth it to have an hour -with this particular chaplain, whatever job he was at. So I went -along. I haven’t time to describe it to you here, but you can -bet it rated a special half column for my paper. It was a mighty -simple little affair, no frills, just a group of sober doughboys, a -flag, some wooden crosses, and a firing squad—<i>and</i> R. M. B. -reading the service. But don’t you think “the Resurrection -and the Life” didn’t get over to us!</p> - -<p>On the way to the field and back I heard a great piece of news. -R. M. B.’s regiment had been sent back into rest billets, about a -fortnight before, and a group of entertainers had come through -the little town one evening and put on a show for them. It was -some show, and the bright particular star was—oh, you never -could guess if you hadn’t a clue, any more than I could. Well, -it was Fanny Fitch! Yes, sir—over here with a bunch of vaudeville -people, going around the leave areas and cheering up the -boys before the next bout. You should have heard the chaplain -describing the song and dance; I never should have thought it! -Fanny can’t sing a whole lot—just enough to get by, I judge; -but dance she can, and jolly she does, and the boys fall for it like -rows of tenpins. The best of it, according to R. M. B., is that she’s -happy as a summer cloud doing her bit. Why, she’s just plain -got into the game, Sis, as I told her to do, and I don’t know what -more you can ask of anybody. You’re nursing, and the chaplain’s -preaching—and burying—and if he isn’t fighting before he gets -through I’ll be surprised, knowing how pugilistic he can be. -And I’m skirmishing on the edge of things with my fountain pen, -and Fanny Fitch is making eyes at the boys and warming the -cockles of their tired hearts—bless her heart! And why isn’t -her job as good as any of ours, since it helps the morale as it’s -bound to do? All I know is I’m going to tear things loose and -get to see her as soon as I can make it, lest some nervy shave-tail -lieutenant get a line on her while my back is turned.</p> - -<p>Time’s up. The third meet-up? You’d say it couldn’t happen, -but it did. It was a week earlier than this that I stood on the -side of the road and watched a couple of battalions march by on -their way to the training trenches in a quiet sector. And behold -there was a first lieutenant as <i>was</i> a first lieutenant, and his name<span class="pagenum" id="Page_330">[330]</span> -back in the States was Tommy Lockhart! Talk about making a -man of a man—you ought to see our Tom!</p> - -<p>Luck to you and love to you——</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="indentright">Always your same old</span><br /> - -<span class="smcap">Cary</span>.</p> -</div> - -<p>He finished it in a hurry, for the Colonel’s messenger -could not be kept waiting. After that he did some manipulating -and manœuvring, which in the end resulted, -a few days later, in his getting the chance he wanted. -What Cary could not bring about in one way he could in -another, and more than one officer and man in authority, -if he had owned up honestly, would have had to admit that -a certain war-correspondent had a way of asking favours -which it was somehow difficult to refuse. Cary’s face was -his fortune, for it was the face of a modest but high-spirited -non-combatant who was afraid of nothing so that he should -fulfil his commission. Usually he was asking to be sent -to the most active front, and pressing his case; so now when -he wanted to make a dash to the rear, without explaining -why, those who could further his request were glad to do so. -It therefore presently came about that young Ray made -his trip in an official car, in the company of several officers, -with a number of hours to spare before the return in which -to hunt up a certain group of entertainers, which he meant -to locate or perish in the attempt. The more he thought -about that “shave-tail lieutenant” and others of his ilk, -the more eager he was to remind Fanny Fitch of his -presence in this new world of hers.</p> - -<p>The hunt took so much time that it began to look as if -Cary’s usual luck had deserted him, when he came rather -suddenly upon his quarry. It was the edge of the evening, -and the edge of a French town in which was quartered -a division on its way to the Front. A big audience of men<span class="pagenum" id="Page_331">[331]</span> -was seated on the grass watching a performance taking -place on an improvised platform, lighted with flaring -torches. At the moment of Cary’s arrival a young violinist -was playing softly a series of haunting Scottish airs, -and a hush had fallen over the listeners which spoke of dangerous -susceptibility at a time when men must not be -permitted to grow soft with dreams. But before this -state of mind had had a chance to make serious inroads, -the fiddler changed his tune. He dashed without warning -into a popular marching song, a lad with a concertina -leaped upon the stage, and a girl in a scarlet skirt, a black -velvet coat, and cap with a long, scarlet feather, ran out -from a sheltering screen. In her arms she carried a great -flaming bunch of poppies, and over them she laughed down -at her audience. Standing on the step below the stage -she began to sing.</p> - -<p>It was just such a song as Cary Ray—and most of the -boys before him—had heard a thousand times. The -singer, as he had written Jane, had no real voice for singing, -only a few clear tones which, the moment the notes -of the song took her above or below the middle register, -became forced and breathy; but somehow that didn’t -much matter. She had a clear enunciation, she had youth -and a delightfully saucy smile, and she had—well—what -is it which makes all the difference between one such performer -and another—that elusive quality which none can -define, but which all can recognize? Spirit, dash, -beauty—they were all there—and something else—something -new—something irresistible. What was it? Trying -to discover what it was, Cary gradually made his way -forward, slipping from one position to another through -the seated ranks without ever lifting his body high enough -to attract attention. Nearer and nearer he came to the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_332">[332]</span> -front, and clearer and clearer grew his view of Fanny’s -laughing face. He didn’t want her to recognize him so -he kept his own face well in shadow, though he knew that -in the torchlight her audience must be to her mostly a blur -of watching eyes and smiling lips, and masses of olive-drab. -He came to a halt at length well sheltered behind -a young giant of a corporal, around whose shoulder he -could peer in safety. And then he looked for all he was -worth at the girl who was holding these boys in the grip -of her attraction, and doing with it what she would.</p> - -<p>And what was she doing with it? What could Fanny -have been expected to do? It was undoubtedly her -chance to capture more masculine admiration in the lump -than had ever been her privilege before. There were a -goodly number of officers in her audience, mostly lounging -in the rear of the ranks upon the grass, but none the less -for that foemen worthy of her steel. She had every opportunity -to use her fascinations with one end, and only one, -in view. In satisfying her own love of excitement, she -could easily, under the guise of entertainment, do these -boys in uniform more harm than good. To tell the honest -truth it was with this fear in mind that Cary now watched -her. Great as had been her attraction for him in the past, -so great did he expect it to be for these others now—and -it had not been possible in that past for him to fail to -recognize the subtle nature of that attraction.</p> - -<p>He studied her from the shelter of the broad shoulder -in front of him with the eyes of a hawk. Let Fanny give -these young Americans one look which was not what Cary -Ray wanted it to be, and he would steal away again as -quietly as he had come and never let her know. He -wasn’t sure that “R. M. B.” would have recognized what -he himself would, in the situation; and the fact that Black<span class="pagenum" id="Page_333">[333]</span> -had spoken with such hearty praise of Fanny’s performance -hadn’t wholly served to reassure him. She had -known from the beginning that the chaplain was present -in her audience—that would make a difference, of course. -She didn’t know now who was here; Cary would see her -exactly as she was. It was no chaplain who was watching -her now, it was an accredited war-correspondent with -every faculty of observation at the alert, his memory -trained to keep each impression vivid as he had received it.</p> - -<p>It was a long time that Fanny was upon the rough stage, -for her audience couldn’t seem to have enough of her. -Again and again they recalled her, having hardly let her -pass from sight. It was difficult to analyze the absorbing -interest of her “turn,” made up as it was, like patchwork, -of all sorts of unexpected bits. Song and story, parade -and dance—one never knew what was coming next, and -when it did come it might be the very slightest of sketches. -It was very evidently her personality which gave the whole -thing its attraction; in less clever hands it might have -fallen flat. Yet through it all seemed to run one thread, -that of genuine desire to bring good cheer without resort -to means unworthy.</p> - -<p>Yes, that was what Cary had to concede, before he had -looked and listened very long. Though she was using -every art which he had known she possessed, and some he -hadn’t known of, she was doing it in a way to which he -could not take exception. Though he was becoming -momently more jealous of all those watching eyes because -he could see how delighted they were, he grew surer and -surer that Fanny was definitely and restrainedly doing the -whole thing as the boys’ sisters might have done it, if -their sisters had been as accomplished as she. His heart -warmed to her as it had never warmed before. After all,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_334">[334]</span> -Cary said to himself, this war had done something splendid -to Fanny Fitch as well as to everybody else. She wasn’t -a vampire, she was a good sport, and she was playing up, -playing the game, with the very best that was in her, -just as R. M. B. had said. And Cary was glad; he was -gladder than he had ever been about anything.</p> - -<p>The moment she had finally left the stage, and the -sleight-of-hand man who was the other member of the -little company had secured the reluctant attention of the -audience, loth to let Fanny go, Cary wormed his way to -one side and out of the torchlight into the clear darkness -now fully fallen. He went around behind the screen, and -found a slim figure in scarlet and black sitting with violinist -and concertinist upon a plank, placed across two boxes. -An older woman with a plain face and fine eyes looked up -at Cary and shook her head at him with a warning smile. -Evidently she was in charge, and very much in charge, -of this girl who was travelling about France with men -performers among so many men in uniform. But before -she could send him away Fanny herself had looked up -from a letter she was reading by a flash-light the little concertinist -was holding for her.</p> - -<p>She sprang up with a smothered exclamation of joy -and came to him. The older woman rose also and followed -her. Fanny turned to her.</p> - -<p>“It’s an old friend, Mr. Ray—Mrs. Burnett.” She -made the introduction under her breath, for at the moment -the audience on the other side of the screen was silent, -watching a difficult trick. “He’s a war-correspondent, -and I’m sure hasn’t long to stay. Please let me talk with -him, just outside here.”</p> - -<p>So, in a minute, when Cary had disarmed the duenna -with his frank and friendly smile, he led Fanny a stone’s-throw<span class="pagenum" id="Page_335">[335]</span> -away, just out of the flare of the torches, and looked -down into her face.</p> - -<p>“Well,” he said, “here we are! And you’re playing -the game, for all that’s in it. I’m pleased as Punch that -you’ve come along. Tell me all about it, quick. I’ve -got to be back in the car that brought me in half an hour, -not to delay Colonel Brooks.”</p> - -<p>“Then there isn’t time to tell you all about it,” Fanny -answered, “and there’s nothing to tell, either, except -what you see. I am very happy to be of use—as I think -I am.”</p> - -<p>“I should say you were. I’ve been watching you for a -full half-hour, and I never saw a jollier stunt put over. -In that red and black you beat anything in pink and -white I ever saw—to speak figuratively. You see—I’ve -only seen you in pink and white, before!”</p> - -<p>Fanny laughed. “And I’ve never before seen you in -olive-drab. You’re perfectly stunning, of course. How -did you know I was here—or didn’t you know?”</p> - -<p>“The chaplain of the ——th told me,” Cary explained, -watching her.</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes!” Fanny’s eyes met his straightforwardly. -She was made up for the stage but he didn’t mind that, -because he knew it had to be. “It was so strange to see -him, in uniform. He’s looking every inch a soldier, isn’t -he?—even though he’s not one.”</p> - -<p>“I’m not so sure he isn’t. Yes, he’s great—and you’re -greater! It’s all in the nature of things that he should -come over and do his bit, but you could hardly have been -expected to do yours.”</p> - -<p>“Why not? Just because I’ve always been a frivolous -thing, is that any reason why I shouldn’t sober down now -and be useful?”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_336">[336]</span>Cary smiled. “You don’t look exactly sobered down, -you know,” he told her, glancing from the dashing scarlet -feather in the little cap set at an angle on her blonde head, -to the high-heeled scarlet slippers on her pretty feet.</p> - -<p>“Oh, but I am. I’m giving myself more seriously to -being a little fool than I ever did to trying to seem wise.”</p> - -<p>“And in doing it, you’re wisest of all!” Cary exulted. -“Fanny—I’ve something to tell you. I wouldn’t have -been sure once, whether it was something that would give -you pleasure to hear or not, but—yes—I’m fairly sure -now. You knew—you must have known, what I used to -be, though you didn’t see much of me till that was pretty -well over. I want you to know that—it’s all over now. -I’ve had every sort of test, as you may imagine, since I -left Jane—and Mr. Black, and Doctor Burns—the people -who stood by me when I was down—and I haven’t given -in once. Perhaps I will give in, some day, but I don’t -think it. You see—I can’t disappoint them. And—I’d -like to think—you care too whether—I make good.”</p> - -<p>A great burst of applause came from the ranks upon -the grass, followed by a roar of laughter. Cary drew -Fanny a step or two farther away, though they two were -already in deep shadow, made the deeper by contrast with -the circle of radiance cast by the torches.</p> - -<p>“Of course, I care,” she answered, and he strained his -eyes in the darkness in the effort to see her face. “Cary, -I want <i>you</i> to know that—ever so many things look different -to me, over here. I—perhaps you won’t believe it, -but it’s true—absolutely true—that when I face an audience -like that one out there I feel like—almost like—a -mother to those boys. And I just want to—be good -to them—and help them forget the hard things they’ve -seen, for a little while.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_337">[337]</span>He could have laughed aloud, at the idea of ever hearing -anything like this from the lips of Fanny Fitch. Yet, -somehow, he could not doubt that there was truth in the -astonishing words, and it made him very happy to hear -them. There had been that in her performance, as he had -observed, which gave strong colour to this point of view. -Certainly, the experience of being close to the heart of the -great struggle was doing strange things to everybody. -Why should it not have worked this miracle with her?</p> - -<p>“Fanny—” he felt for her hand, and took it in both -his, while he stooped lower to speak into her face,—“do -you know that you and I are a lot alike? It’s supposed -to be that people who are alike should steer clear of each -other, but I’m not so sure. You and I are always keyed-up -to a pitch of adventure—we like it, it’s the breath of -life to us. I can understand it in you—you can, in me. -Why shouldn’t we go after it—together? Why couldn’t -we make a wonderful thing of our lives, doing things together? -Why, if I could have made an airman, for instance—as -I’d have liked mightily to do if I hadn’t been -a newspaper man and had my job cut out for me—I can -imagine your being ready to go up with me and take every -chance with me—you could be just that sort of a good -fellow. And even on the every-day, plain ground—why, -dear—if you cared——”</p> - -<p>Fanny was silent for a minute, and he could see that -she was looking away from him, toward the boys on the -grass, and the stage, and the torches.</p> - -<p>“I want to go on doing this, while the war lasts,” she -said, “as long as I can hold out.”</p> - -<p>“Of course you do. And I want to go on with my job. -We’re both taking chances. I don’t suppose a shot will -get you—but—one might get me.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_338">[338]</span>“It might get me, too. I’m going next to some of the -hospitals, and they are shelled sometimes, aren’t they?”</p> - -<p>“Sure thing. And the funny thing is, I shouldn’t want -you not to go, any more than you’d want to keep me in -safe places. Isn’t that true?”</p> - -<p>“Yes!” She whispered it.</p> - -<p>“Then,” he argued triumphantly, “doesn’t that prove -that we’re fit mates? And if we just knew that we belonged -to each other, wouldn’t that—oh, don’t mind my -saying it that way—wouldn’t that put a lot more <i>punch</i> -into our work?”</p> - -<p>“It might.”</p> - -<p>He well remembered that delicious little laugh of hers; -it had never delighted him more than it did now.</p> - -<p>“Not that yours needs any more punch,” he went on, -rather deliriously, in his joy. It certainly did give zest -to a man’s wooing to know that a few paces away were -several hundred rivals in admiration of his choice. Not -one of those fellows but would have given his eyes to be -standing back here in the shadow with the girl of the -scarlet feather! “Punch! I should say so. How you -did put it over! And all the while I wanted to jump up -and yell—‘Keep your distance—she’s <i>mine</i>!’”</p> - -<p>“Oh—but you weren’t as sure as that!” Fanny tried -to withdraw her hand.</p> - -<p>But Cary held it fast. “No, I wasn’t sure, not by a -darned sight. I’m not sure yet—except of one thing. -And that’s if you send me away to-night <i>not</i> sure I’ll go -to pieces with unhappiness and my work’ll run a fair -chance of going to pieces too. Heaven knows when I’ll -see you again, with the scrap getting hotter all the time. -I don’t mean to play on the pathetic, but—well—you -know as well as I do that this is war-time—and I’m green<span class="pagenum" id="Page_339">[339]</span> -with jealousy of every doughboy who’ll see you from now -on——”</p> - -<p>He hardly knew what he was saying now. The violinist -had begun to play again. The boys on the grass had -fallen silent. The torches flared and fell and flared again -in the light breeze which had suddenly sprung up. In a -minute more he must go; he must run no risk of making -the car-load of officers wait for him.</p> - -<p>Fanny lifted her face and spoke to him in a whisper. -“Cary, will you promise <i>me</i>—that you’ll never—go back -to the old—ways?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I’d <i>like</i> to promise you!” he whispered back eagerly. -“I want to. That will make it surer than sure—if -I can promise <i>you</i>. I do promise you—on my honour—and -before—God.”</p> - -<p>They stood a moment in silence again, then Cary flung -his arms around her and felt hers come about his neck.</p> - -<p>“I want to promise you something, too,” her voice -breathed in his ear. “I’ll never, never face an audience -like this without—remembering that you might be in it. -And I’ll play—as you would like me to. Didn’t I—to-night—without -knowing?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, my dear!” How could she have known, and -given him what he wanted most? “Yes, you did—bless -you! And I’ll trust you, as you’ll trust me. Oh, I -didn’t know how much I loved you, till you said that. -Fanny—we were meant for each other—I know we were!”</p> - -<p>Every man has said it, and Cary was as sure as they. -Perhaps he was right—as right as they. Anyhow, as he -went away, he was gloriously happy in the thought that -though those hundreds on the grass might thrill with -pleasure as the girl with the scarlet feather came out to -sing them her farewell song, not one of them all could know<span class="pagenum" id="Page_340">[340]</span> -as he did, that behind the enchanting gayety beat a real -heart, one that belonged only to a certain war-correspondent, -already many miles away! Surely, if she could trust -him, he could trust her, and mutual trust, as all the world -knows, is the essential basis for every human relation -worth having. On this basis, then, was this new relation -established; and the augury for the future was one on -which to count with hope—even with confidence.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_341">[341]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XX<br /> - - -<small>A HAPPY WARRIOR</small></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">THE Field Hospital in which Jane was at work was -now seeing its busiest days. A steady stream of -wounded men poured into it, day and night, frequently -augmented after a serious engagement at the Front by such -a torrent of extra cases that every resource was heavily -overtaxed. Surgeons and nurses worked to the limit and -beyond it; they kept on long after they should have been -released. In Jane’s whole experience in this place no doctor -or nurse ever gave up and was sent to the rear until actually -forced to do so, by pure physical inability longer to continue. -It was amazing how endurance held out, when -the need was great, by sheer force of nerve and will. -Yet the strain told, and it showed more and more in -the worn faces of those upon whom the responsibility fell -heaviest.</p> - -<p>At a time when the situation was most trying, and the -whole hospital force was exhausting itself with effort to -cover the demand, a visitor appeared upon the scene who -changed the face of things in an hour. He was a surgeon -from a famous Base Hospital, himself distinguished both -in America, from which he came, and in France, where -he had been long serving far in advance of most of his -countrymen. He had chosen to spend a brief leave from -his work in visiting various Field Hospitals and Casualty -Clearing Stations, and on account of his reputation for<span class="pagenum" id="Page_342">[342]</span> -remarkable success in his own branch of regional surgery -his visits had been welcomed and made the most of by his -colleagues in the profession.</p> - -<p>Arriving at this particular Field Hospital he found its -operating rooms choked with cases, its surgeons working -in mad haste to give each man his chance for life, in spite -of the rush; its nurses standing by to the point of exhaustion. -Their forces had been depleted that very day -by the sudden and tragic loss of their Chief, who at the -conclusion of an incredible number of hours of unceasing -labour at the operating table had dropped quietly at the -feet of his assistants and been carried out, not to return. -He was a man beyond middle age, a slender gray-haired -hero of indomitable will, who had known well enough that -he was drawing upon borrowed capital but had withheld -none of it on that account. His removal from the head -of his forces had had no outer effect upon them except -to make them redouble their efforts to fill the gap; but not -a man nor woman there who was not feeling the weaker -for the loss.</p> - -<p>It was at this hour that Doctor Leaver, looking in upon -the shambles that the operating room had become, and -recognizing the tremendous need, a need greater than he -had left behind, took off his coat, put on the smeared -gown in which Doctor Burnside had fallen at his post—there -was not a clean one to be had in the depleted supply -room—and went quietly to work. He waited for no -authority from anywhere; he was needed for hurt and -dying men, and there was no time to lose. Comparatively -fresh because of his brief vacation from his own -work, experienced beyond any of the men who had been the -Chief’s associates, he assumed the control as naturally as -they gave it to him.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_343">[343]</span>“By George! I never saw anything like this!” burst -smotheredly from the lips of one of the younger surgeons, -as he received certain supplies from Jane’s hands. “Talk -about rapid work!—Why, the man’s lightning itself. -He’s speeded us all up, though we thought we were making -a record before. If anybody’d told me this morning that -before night I’d be fetching and carrying for Leaver of -Baltimore, I’d have told him no such luck. Why, say—I -thought I was tired! I’m fresh as a mule, as long as he -stands there.”</p> - -<p>Doctor Leaver remained for five days, until a man to -take the dead Chief’s place could be found. During that -period he stopped work only to snatch a few hours’ rest -when he could best be spared—if such intervals ever came. -His tall, sinewy figure and lean, aquiline face became the -most vitally inspiring sight in the whole place, the eyes of -surgeons, nurses, and patients resting with confidence upon -this skilful quiet man who did such marvellous things with -such assured ease.</p> - -<p>“Why,” one nurse declared to Jane, as the two made -ready trays of instruments just from the sterilizer, “it -seems as if he had only to look at a case that’s almost -gone to have it revive. I’ve got so that I shall expect to -see the dead sit up, pretty soon, if he tells them to. That -red-headed boy over there—I wouldn’t have said he had -one chance in a million to recover from shock, two hours -ago, when he came in. And now look at him—smiling -at everybody who comes near him!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, Doctor Leaver is wonderful,” Jane agreed, “But -remember who he is—one of the very most famous American -surgeons we have over here. And modern surgery -does do miracles—in the right hands. I never cease to -wonder at it.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_344">[344]</span>One nurse was like another to the busy chief surgeon, or -so it seemed—they couldn’t be sure that he would ever -know any of them again if he saw them after this was over. -But on the fourth day of his stay, as somebody called -sharply—“Miss Ray!”—Jane noted that he looked suddenly -over at her with that quick, penetrating glance of his -which was keeping everybody on the jump. That same -evening, during the first lull—or what might be called -that—which had occurred for hours on end, he came to -her.</p> - -<p>“I have a message for you, Miss Ray,” he said, “if you -are the Miss Ray who comes from the same part of the -States as a young man named Enos Dyer.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, Doctor Leaver.” Jane looked up eagerly.</p> - -<p>“Come out here, please, where we can talk a minute,” -and the tall surgeon led her across the ward to an open -door. He paused beside her in this doorway, drawing in -deeply the cool damp air which poured in from outside, for -the night like so many nights in France was wet. He -passed his hand across his brow, smoothing back the dark, -straight hair, moist with his unceasing labours.</p> - -<p>“My word, but that feels good!” he said. “There are -places in the world still, that don’t smell of carbolic and -ether.” And he smiled at Jane, who smiled back. “How -many hours’ sleep have you had in the last forty-eight?” -he questioned suddenly, eyeing understandingly the violet -shadows beneath her eyes.</p> - -<p>“As many as you—or more—Doctor Leaver,” she answered -lightly. “I’ve learned to do without, now—as you -did, long ago.”</p> - -<p>“Nobody ever learns to do without. Get some to-night, -please, without fail.”</p> - -<p>“You sound like a surgeon I know back home,” she<span class="pagenum" id="Page_345">[345]</span> -said. She knew he would welcome a bit of relaxation from -discipline during this brief interval of rest.</p> - -<p>“Who? Red Pepper Burns?”</p> - -<p>“Indeed, yes! How could you know?” she asked, -though less surprised than she might have been if she had -not already had many strange encounters, here in this -land of strangers.</p> - -<p>“He’s the best friend I have in the world—as he is that -of plenty of other people. If you know him, Miss Ray, -you understand that my heart warms at the very mention -of him.”</p> - -<p>She nodded. “You knew how he wanted to come -over?”</p> - -<p>“Yes! Hard luck. I wanted him badly with me. But -he’s represented over here, Miss Ray, in the best way a -man can be, short of actual personal service. I learned -from him a method of overcoming traumatic shock which -is more effective than any I’ve found in use here. It’s -about our most difficult problem, you know. I scouted -Burns’ theory in the beginning, but I’ve had a great chance -to try it out over here, and it certainly does save some -pretty desperate cases. If I can ever get a minute to write -I’ll tell him a few things that will make him very happy.”</p> - -<p>“I am so glad,” she said—and looked it.</p> - -<p>“Now for my message. Back at Base I had a case that -interested me mightily, not so much pathologically as -psychologically. This boy Dyer was under my hands for -a number of weeks—he’s back at the Front now—and a -more naïve, engaging youngster from the back country I -never knew. He had us all interested in him, he was so -crazy to be under fire again. You had him here, I believe, -on his way out.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, Doctor. I shall always remember him.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_346">[346]</span>“And he, you, evidently. A number of weeks ago he -heard me say that I intended to take this trip, and he -figured it out that I might meet you. So he sent you -this message, with instructions to me to deliver it somehow -or answer to him.” He smiled over the recollection as he -drew out a small paper. “Dyer could get away with -more impudence—or what would be called that from anybody -else—than any boy I ever saw. But it wasn’t really -that—it was his beautiful faith that everybody was on his -side, including the Almighty. He had an unshakeable -and touching belief that God would see him through -everything and permit him to render some big service -before he was through. And since he hadn’t had his -chance to do that yet, it followed as the night the day -that he must get back to the Front and do it. I admit -I came to feel much the same way about him myself. -And when he gave me this message I understood that it -must be delivered at any cost. So—without any cost at -all—here it is.”</p> - -<p>Jane received the folded paper with a curious sense of -its importance, though it came from the most obscure -young private in the A. E. F. With a word of apology -she opened it, feeling that Doctor Leaver would like to -know something of its contents, if they were communicable. -After a moment during which she struggled with -and conquered a big lump in her throat, she handed it to -him. He read it with a moved face, and gave it back with -the comment:</p> - -<p>“That’s great—that’s simply great! Thank you for -letting me see.”</p> - -<p>The message was written in a cramped, boyishly uncertain -hand, but there was nothing uncertain about the -wording of it:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_347">[347]</span></p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><span class="smcap">Miss Ray</span>,</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Dear Friend</span>:</p> - -<p>This is to tell you that it took longer than I expected to get me -fixed up again but I am all O. K. now and never better and I am -off for the place where things is doing. You know from what I -said that I think there is something for me to do that nobody -else could and I am going to do it if God lets me. Not that I -think I am a Daniel but there sure is lions and just now they seem -to be roaring pretty loud and I can’t get there too soon. I want -to ask you to pray for me not that I won’t be afraid for I am not -afraid but that I’ll be let to do something worth coming over here -for. The preacher Mr. Black said that God always hears if we -have anything to say to Him and I think He would hear you -speshally—because anybody would. This leaves me well and -hoping you are the same.</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="indentright">Your friend,</span><br /> -<span class="smcap">Private Enos Dyer</span>.</p> -</div> - -<p>“I suppose you have no idea where he is now,” Jane -said, as she carefully put away the paper.</p> - -<p>“Yes, I have an idea.” The surgeon was looking off -now into the night outside. Gusts of wind blew the rain -into his face, but he seemed to welcome its refreshing touch. -“I had a word with a young artilleryman just now on -whom I operated yesterday for a smashed elbow joint. -He doesn’t mind that in the least, but the thing he does -mind is that he’s sure his ‘buddy,’ as he calls him, ‘Enie -Dyer,’ was in that battalion of the ——nth Division that -has just been wiped out. It had taken the objective it -was sent for, and this boy has had to help shell the -position where Dyer would have been if the battalion -hadn’t been sacrificed. His idea is that it was a perhaps -inevitable sacrifice, but the thought that he might have -been pouring lead and steel in on his friend, still alive and -hiding in a shell-hole, has got on his nerves till he’s all in -pieces. He’s a giant physically, but Dyer is twice his size, -nevertheless.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_348">[348]</span>“I’ll find him,” said Jane. She felt suddenly weak with -dread. She had caught rumours before now of the battalion -which had not been heard from and which seemed to have -vanished from the earth, but she had no idea that anyone -in whom she was especially interested had been among -that ill-fated number. She had known young Dyer but -a few days, yet he had made upon her one of the most -deeply disturbing impressions of her experience. His own -personality, reinforced by her knowledge that he owed -this simple trust of his to Robert Black, had combined to -make the thought of him a poignant one. As she went -back to her work she realized that Dyer was not to -be out of her mind until the question of his whereabouts -was settled—if it could be settled.</p> - -<p>And meanwhile—what was it that he had bade her do -for him?</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>It was three days later that the rumour reached the -Hospital that the battalion which had been supposed to -be wiped out had been heard from. Two runners had -come through the enemy’s lines, it was said, and had -brought word that what was left of the four companies -which formed the battalion was under constant barrage -fire from the guns of its own side. The barrage had been -stopped, rescue was on its way; the daring men who had -brought the word would shortly be here to be fixed up—they -had been completely exhausted when they arrived.</p> - -<p>The artilleryman sat up in bed. He waved his good -right arm and shouted, before anybody could restrain -him:</p> - -<p>“I’ll bet Enie Dyer’s one of ’em! I’ll bet he’s one of -’em! Darn his hide, he’d get through hell itself if he -started to. He’d never know when he was beat—he never<span class="pagenum" id="Page_349">[349]</span> -did. He wouldn’t know it if a seventy-five hit him—he’d -tell it he had to be gettin’ along where he was goin’, -and he’d pull it out and leave it layin’ where ’twas! I -vum——”</p> - -<p>A burst of joyous laughter from all down the ward -greeted this triumph of the imagination. Then Jane laid -him gently down upon his back again—he had other injuries -than the smashed elbow joint, and sitting up -wouldn’t do for him yet. In his ear she whispered, “I -think it’s Enie too, somehow. But we mustn’t be too -sure yet. Just try to wait quietly.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, ma’am.” He owned her supremacy as they all -did. But for the next twenty-four hours he hardly -rested and never slept. Jane shared his vigil, while reports -continued to arrive, some adding to their confidence, -others taking it away. Finally, they knew that it was -all true and the lost was found—what there was left of it.</p> - -<p>And then came Enos Dyer, and the Polish boy who had -been his companion. Five days without food before starting, -eight hours on the trip, exhausted but game, they -were brought back to the Field Hospital for the rest that -was imperative, and the treatment of minor injuries. -That night Jane sat beside Dyer’s bed and listened to his -account, because he was too happy to be suppressed until -he had told her the outlines. She looked at his thin, -exalted face, and saw the lines and hollows that hunger -and fatigue had brought there, but saw still more clearly -the triumph of spirit over body. She had managed that -he should lie in a bed next his big friend, and between the -reunited pair she felt like a happy warrior herself.</p> - -<p>“Why, it was the <i>thing</i>, to start in the day time,” -insisted Enos, in reply to big Johnny’s comment on the -foolhardiness of this choice. “All the runners that tried<span class="pagenum" id="Page_350">[350]</span> -it before in the night got killed or wounded, and somebody’d -got to try the thing a different way. I figgered out -that in the day time when there ain’t any scrap on, the -enemy’s always half asleep, they’re so sure they can see -everything that’s goin’ on. Nights everybody on both -sides is keyed-up like jack-rabbits, expectin’ trouble. -But day times—why they’s nothin’ to it—if they don’t -happen to see you.”</p> - -<p>Johnny chuckled: “No, <i>if</i> they don’t!”</p> - -<p>“You see,” Enos went on, “we made things safe by -leavin’ behind our helmets and gas masks and rifles——”</p> - -<p>“Leavin’ ’em behind! Why, you’d need ’em.”</p> - -<p>“Not much we didn’t. Tin hats hit on stones and ring -out, when you’re crawlin’, and rifles and masks get in your -way. One officer stopped us, though, and told us to go -back and get ’em. I didn’t want to, so I went back to the -Major and told him so. He said, ‘Don’t you want ’em?’ -And I said, ‘No, sir, we don’t,’ and he laughed and said, -‘All right, go as you like.’ He was the same that told me -when I and Stanislaus asked to go that ‘<i>if</i> we got through -we was to——’ ‘<i>If</i> we get through——’ I says to him—‘we’re -<i>goin’</i> to get through! If God could take care of -Daniel in that lions’ den, I guess He can of us.’ He looked -at me a minute, and then he says; ‘You’ll make it.’” -Enos laughed gleefully. “Nothin’ like standin’ up to -an officer,” he said, by way of throwing a side-light on -the affair. Jane thought of Doctor Leaver, and wished -he had not gone back to his Base Hospital, and could hear.</p> - -<p>“Well, that’s about all there was to it.—Gee, but this -pillow does feel good under a fellow’s head!—We crawled -down the hill, and across the valley, and we crossed a -road three times, right under them Fritzies’ noses, and -they never see us. Quite a lot of times I thought they<span class="pagenum" id="Page_351">[351]</span> -sure had seen us, and was comin’ straight for us, but we -laid low, and every time they’d turn off before they got -to us, just as if——” his eyes met Jane’s and looked -straight into them—“a hand was holdin’ back the lions. -I knew then just as sure that we’d get through. We -crossed three wire entanglements, and two German -trenches, and we run right onto a sniper’s post, only the -sniper wasn’t there—gone off for water or somethin’, not -thinkin’ there was anythin’ to snipe in broad daylight. -About dark it begun to rain—and it got black as a pocket. -We was soaked through. But we kep’ a-comin’, and -quite awhile after dark we got near our own lines.”</p> - -<p>He paused and drew a long breath. Jane laid an exploring -finger on his pulse, but it was not unduly excited -or more weak than was safe. Johnny, propping himself -upon his uninjured elbow, had to be made to lie down -again.</p> - -<p>“Gee!” muttered the artilleryman, “that was about -the worst of all. They keep an awful lookout, our fellows -do. Wonder they didn’t shoot you.”</p> - -<p>“We thought of that,” admitted Enos mildly, “so we -decided to keep a talkin’ as we come near, so they could -hear we was English-speakin’. So we did. The outpost -heard us and challenged us, and we told our story. They -was bound to make sure we wasn’t spies, so they kep’ -askin’ us questions. By and by they called the corporal -of the guard, and after he’d asked us forty-’leven -more questions he took us back to Regimental Headquarters, -and there was some officers there that I’d see -before. I was surprised that they remembered me, but -they did.”—Jane was not surprised to hear this.—“And -then, well, there wasn’t anything too good for us. They -had some chow heated up for us, and they told us we could<span class="pagenum" id="Page_352">[352]</span> -have the best there was to sleep on—and we did—only -the best there was was the floor,” he explained with a -laugh. “This bed certainly feels good,” he added.</p> - -<p>That was his whole story of an exploit which had saved -a battalion. Seven hundred men had gone forth to take -the objective, two hundred and twenty-seven of them had -been able to walk out, when the rescue came. The -chances of a runner getting through the enemy lines by -which the men were surrounded had been desperate ones, -and Dyer had taken them and had come through without a -hair of his head having been touched.</p> - -<p>He turned to Jane, lowering his voice. “Did you ever -get my letter I sent you?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“Yes, Enos. Doctor Leaver brought it to me.”</p> - -<p>“I knew it,” he said triumphantly. “I knew you was -prayin’ for me to get my chance, or I wouldn’t have got -it so easy.”</p> - -<p>Jane’s eyes fell before his.</p> - -<p>“You did do what I asked, didn’t you?” he insisted, confidently.</p> - -<p>She shook her head. “No, I didn’t pray for that, -Enos. All I could think of was that you might come -through safely.”</p> - -<p>“And <i>that</i> was what you prayed for?”</p> - -<p>She nodded.</p> - -<p>“Why, <i>that</i> wasn’t the big thing!” he cried, under his -breath. “Except, of course—if us fellows didn’t get -through the rest of ’em wouldn’t. Oh, yes, of course, -that was what you did have to pray for, and I’m glad -you did. It’s wonderful how it works out, things like -that!”</p> - -<p>She stole away presently, forbidding either of the two -friends to exchange any further talk that night. The<span class="pagenum" id="Page_353">[353]</span> -place was a little quieter to-night, though by to-morrow -the wounded from the rescued battalion would be brought -in and everything would speed up again. She went outside -the hospital and found a sheltered corner where in the -darkness she could be alone—until somebody should come -by. The rain had stopped, the clouds had broken away; -a myriad stars filled the sky.</p> - -<p>After a time she took from her pocket her pen and a -letter blank, and coming around where she could get a -faint light from a window upon her paper slowly wrote -these words, afterwards folding and sealing the letter and -addressing it.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>I know, at last, that you are right. I don’t understand it yet—but -I believe it. Somebody does hear—and it is possible to speak -to Him. I have learned the way through a boy from the “hill” -where we went that last Sunday afternoon. He says you taught -him—and now he has taught me. You were right when you -said that I would find it all around me here. I have, but it took -this dear, wise boy to make it real to me—as you made it real -to him. So—it has come through you after all, and I am very, -very glad of that.</p> - -<p>God keep you safe, Robert Black,—I pray for it on my knees.</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Jane.</span></p> -</div> - -<p>It was two days afterward that a despatch reached her -from Dr. John Leaver, back at his Base Hospital, near -Paris.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>Operated to-day Chaplain Black ——nth Regiment ——nth -Division, severe shrapnel wounds shoulder and thigh. Doing well.</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Leaver.</span></p> -</div> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_354">[354]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XXI<br /> - - -<small>A PEAL OF BELLS</small></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">BY THE time that a certain note of a few lines, written -outside a Field Hospital window in France, had -reached a certain Base Hospital, many miles away, Robert -Black was able to open his own mail, for a fortnight had -gone by. He was so fortunate as to have two other letters -in this mail, a happening which of itself would have -made the rainy day much less dismal. But to find this -particular handwriting upon the third envelope was -enough to flood the ward with light—for him, though to -some others, near him, who had had no letters, it remained -a sombre place, as before.</p> - -<p>He kept this third letter unopened till the morning -dressings were over, the carts of surgical supplies had -ceased to move through the ward, and the surgeons and -nurses had left behind them patients soothed and made -comfortable and ready for the late morning nap which followed -naturally upon the pain and fatigue of the dressings. -Then, when his neighbours in the beds on either side were -no longer observant, Black drew out the single sheet, feeling -an instant sense of disappointment that the lines were so -few. Then—he read them, and his regret was changed -in an instant to a joy so profound that he could only lie -drawing deep breaths of emotion, as he stared out of a -near-by window at tossing tree tops dripping with rain,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_355">[355]</span> -against the sky of lead. The sky for him had opened, -and let through a sea of glory.</p> - -<p>Again and again, after a little, his eager eyes re-read the -words, so few, yet so full of meaning. Among them certain -lines stood out:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>I know, at last, that you are right. I don’t understand it -yet—but I believe it. Somebody does hear—and it is possible -to speak to Him—— You were right when you said that I would -find it all around me here—— It took this dear, wise boy to -make it real to me—as you made it real to him—— So—it has -come through you, after all—— God keep you safe, Robert -Black—I pray for it on my knees.</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Jane.</span></p> -</div> - -<p>It was well for him that this stimulus came when it did, -for within twenty-four hours arrived another message of -the sort which is not good for convalescents. Cary Ray -sent a scrawl of a letter from some post upon the Front, -which was three weeks in getting through, so that the news -it contained was already old. Black read it, and then -turned upon his pillow and hid his face in his arm. When -his fellow patients saw that face again, though it was composed, -and the Chaplain’s manner was as they had known -it all along, not a man but understood that he had had a -heavy blow. By and by he asked for his writing tablet -and pen, and they saw him slowly write a short letter. -These were the words he wrote:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><span class="smcap">My dear Mr. and Mrs. Lockhart</span>:</p> - -<p>I wish that this word I send you might be the first to reach you, -that you might receive the news of your boy from the hand of -a friend. But whether the official word comes first or not, you -will be glad to have me tell you all I know—which comes to me -through Cary Ray, and which he says has been absolutely verified.</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_356">[356]</span></p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>Tom’s division was one sent forward to replace the remnant -of two British and French divisions which had been long in the -field. The men went into position to hold the line under the -hottest possible machine-gun fire. Tom’s battalion lost all its -officers except himself and a second lieutenant, and these two -were forced to take command. They succeeded in holding the -position for many hours and until relief came, thus saving the day -in that sector, and causing the final retirement of the enemy. -The second lieutenant, Fisher, himself severely wounded, told -Cary Ray that “Lockhart was a regular bull-dog for hanging on, -nothing could make him turn back. His men would go anywhere -he told them to, for he always went with them—and went first.” -When he fell it was under a rain of gunfire, and there could not -have been an instant’s survival.</p> - -<p>Though you have prayed many prayers for your boy, and they -have been answered differently from the way in which you would -have had them, I believe your faith in God is no less than before. -When Tom and his father meet again, some day, and talk it over, -it will all be clear to that father why his boy went home ahead -of him. But Tom knows—<i>now</i>; I’m very sure of that.</p> - -<p>So, dear friends, you have a glorious memory to comfort you. -The gold star you will wear will be the highest honour that can -come to you. Nothing that Tom could have accomplished in a -long life of effort could so crown that life with imperishable -beauty, or so make it immortal. I rejoice with you, for the lad -was my dear friend, and I can never forget him.</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="indentright">Faithfully yours,</span><br /> -<span class="smcap">Robert Black</span>.</p> -</div> - -<p>Late that night, when all was quiet in the ward, he wrote -this same news to Jane. But at the end of his letter came -other words, of such joy and thanksgiving as a man can -write only when his heart is very full.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>What you tell me of yourself goes to my deepest heart, as you -must well know. I knew it would come—it had to come. What -it means to me I can tell you only when I see you, face to face. -The thought of that hour shakes me through and through.</p> -</div> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_357">[357]</span>On the 11th of November, at half after ten in the morning, -Jane was in one of the larger towns which had been -swept by devastating fires at one time or another throughout -the entire period of the war. She had been sent with -a certain Brigadier General who had been under her care -at the Field Hospital, and who had obtained for her a -short leave that she might accompany him and see for -herself something of this famous region. At the time -of their arrival shells had again unexpectedly begun pouring -in upon the town, though the rumour of the coming -armistice was persistent, and even the hour was given.</p> - -<p>“I can’t let you go any nearer,” General Lewiston said -to Jane, as his car approached the town, and halted at his -order, “much as I want you to be there when the guns -cease firing. They’re evidently going to keep it as hot -here as they know how, up to the very last minute.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, but you must let me stay,” Jane begged. “I’m -not in the least afraid, and I’d give all I possess to be exactly -there, when the hour comes.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll leave you here, in care of Lieutenant Ferguson, and -send back for you when it’s over,” the General offered.</p> - -<p>“Please, take me in with you. I’ve been under fire, -before. We were bombed three times in hospital, you -know.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, but this is different, Miss Ray. I’m responsible -for you now.”</p> - -<p>“Not a bit, General. It’s my responsibility, if I ask -it—as I do.”</p> - -<p>He couldn’t resist her, or that sweet sturdiness of hers -which made her seem unlike the women for whom a man -had to be “responsible.” So he bade his chauffeur drive -on. Thus it came about that Jane had her wish and was -actually in this most noteworthy of French towns when,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_358">[358]</span> -at the close of that last hour of roaring guns and bursting -shells, it all came to an end, as one graphic account put it, -“as though God Himself had dropped a wet blanket -over the crackling flames of hell.”</p> - -<p>So, after that first breathless stillness which succeeded -upon the din, Jane heard that which she could never -afterward forget—nor could any other who heard it. From -the high tower which had come through scatheless above -the otherwise ruined cathedral, rang out a great peal of -bells. The cathedral doors were opened, and hundreds of -soldiers surged in. Jane saw them go, and called General -Lewiston’s attention.</p> - -<p>“Mayn’t we follow?” she urged, and the officer nodded. -They got out of the car and crossed the space and went in -at the great battered doors in the roofless walls which still -stood to protect the sacred enclosure. As they went in -they heard the notes of “Praise God from whom all -blessings flow,” break from a young tenor in the very -centre of the crowd, and heard it taken up and grow and -swell till it seemed to lift above the broken walls to the -very sky. And then they saw the wonderful thing -which followed. If, before this hour, Jane by her own -experience had not been brought to her knees, surely she -must have fallen upon them now—as she did, with the -General beside her on one side and the Lieutenant on the -other, both with bared heads. For all those men before -her, British and French and Mohammedan and -Jew, had now dropped to their knees, and led by an -unknown man with a Red Triangle on his sleeve who -had lifted his arms to them as a signal were devoutly -saying together the words of the Lord’s Prayer. Such a -deep, whole-hearted sound it was which came from all -those brawny throats as Jane had never heard before.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_359">[359]</span> -She had heard men cheer—she had heard them sing—she -had never heard men pray together, regardless of sect -or creed, as she heard them now. And suddenly she -realized what she had never understood before, that it is -not one man here or there who believes that it is of use to -say “Our Father,” but that it is the great, all but universal -cry from every heart in time of stress. The armistice was -signed, the guns had ceased—it was the first deep instinct -of these men of every creed to speak their gratitude to -high Heaven.</p> - -<p>There was singing again then—glorious singing of national -anthems, British and French and American. -Jane’s voice joined the General’s and the Lieutenant’s -and the three looked at one another. The General’s eyes -were wet, and the Lieutenant’s lips were trembling, while -Jane frankly wiped the streaming tears away as she smiled -into the two faces, which smiled understandingly back. -And presently they were out and away again, and the -General was saying to Jane, “I’m glad you had your way, -Miss Ray, since you didn’t get hurt, for you’ve seen to-day -what must almost have paid you for all you have spent -since you came over.”</p> - -<p>“I’m paid a thousand times,” she answered, and so she -felt about it.</p> - -<p>Things happened rapidly now. There was plenty of -work still for the hospitals, but it was of a different sort. -No longer did the ambulances bring to Jane the freshly -wounded. She was sent back to a Base Hospital, where -were the cases which needed long care before they could -be discharged. She had had more than one letter from -Robert Black urging her to keep in close touch with him, -before the one came which said that he was soon to be sent -home. He asked if it would be possible for her to get<span class="pagenum" id="Page_360">[360]</span> -leave and come to London, where the final days of his -convalescence were to be spent. He was walking about -now, he said, and—what it would be to walk down certain -streets with her! He added other statements calculated -to have their effect upon her, if only to make her understand -how very much he wanted to see her.</p> - -<p>It was not easy to bring about, but at length she obtained -a four days’ leave, and through the influence of -Doctor Leaver secured the difficult permission to cross -the Channel on one of the crowded boats. An early -December night saw her making the crossing, the wind -and spray stinging her face into brilliant colour, her big -coat-collar turned well up about her throat, her eyes set -straight ahead toward the English coast. It was almost -sixteen months since she had left England on her way -to France—sixteen months of the hardest work she had -ever dreamed of doing—and the happiest. Not one hard -hour would she take back—not one!</p> - -<p>Dover, and many delayed hours to London, with post-war -conditions, crowded trains, upset schedules—and -always the wounded and crippled everywhere, that she -might not for a minute forget. Then, at last, Charing -Cross Station, and the lights of the great city, no longer -obscured because of enemy air-raids. As Jane came -out upon the street she drew a deep breath of content. -She had been several times in London, and knew her way -about. It was not far to the house where she was expected, -but she had not been met because it had been -impossible to know beforehand just when she might get in. -The days of making careful consultation of railway schedules -and then wiring an expectant friend the hour and -minute of one’s intended arrival were long gone by—and -had not yet come again.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_361">[361]</span>She was keyed to a high pitch of expectation during -every moment of that walk. She was so near now—so -near! She was actually in the same great city. It was -almost unbelievable, but it was true. There was a -chance—it couldn’t be more than the millionth part of -one, but it was a chance—that at any moment she might -turn a corner and see coming toward her the tall figure -which she had last seen a year ago in August. How -would he look? What would he say? Would he be—different? -Oh, he must be different! He couldn’t -have been through it all and not have suffered some -change. But—she knew as well as she knew anything -in the world that in the way that mattered most to her -he would not be different, he would be absolutely the same. -As for herself, was she not different too? And was she -not—absolutely the same? Oh, no—oh, no! With the -development of her experience and the growth of her sacrifice -had not the thing within her heart and spirit which -was his become a thousand times more his? No doubt -of that. Then—might not that which he had for her -have been augmented too? The thought was one she had -to put away from her. Enough, if he could but give her -so much of his heart as he had given before. That of itself, -she thought, would be all that she could bear—to-day.</p> - -<p>The old green door with the shining brass knocker she -so well remembered came into view as she turned into the -quaint little street not far from Westminster Abbey where -lived her English friend. On the first of her visits to -England, in search of rare objects for her shop, she had -met Miss Stoughton, an Englishwoman in the late thirties, -who had an established reputation as a connoisseur -and collector of rare antiques. Business dealings with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_362">[362]</span> -this woman had resulted in a permanent friendship between -the two. Miss Stoughton was separated from her -family, all of whom were strongly opposed to her independent -establishment in business, a departure from all -the family traditions of birth and education. She had -chosen nevertheless to live her own life, and when the -Great War came to England she had a well developed -business experience to back her in giving her services to -her country. At the moment when Jane came to her she -had just returned to the little house, after a long period of -absence.</p> - -<p>The green door opened at the first fall of the knocker, -and the tall Englishwoman herself welcomed Jane with -hearty hospitality.</p> - -<p>“My dear—this is most awfully jolly—to see you again! -How well you are looking! A trifle thin, perhaps—and no -wonder—but such a fine colour! Come in—come in! -The house is still a bit upset, you know, but you won’t -mind that.”</p> - -<p>“It doesn’t look upset,” Jane commented, after one -glance about the little drawing room, where a bright fire -burned on the diminutive hearth, and a tea-table beside -it offered refreshment, as if it had been waiting for the -guest. “It looks just as I remember it—the prettiest -room I ever saw in England.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, my dear Jane—you are the same extravagant -admirer of my simple things. But I always appreciated -your praise of them, for you are not only a connoisseur -but an artist. And you have put aside all that to do this -nursing! Do sit down and tell me all about it, while we -have tea. But first——” she interrupted herself with a gesture—“let -me not fail to give my message—a most important -message. Morning, noon, and night for three<span class="pagenum" id="Page_363">[363]</span> -days now, have I been besieged by a tall Scotsman in uniform -with the cross of a regimental chaplain. He had -what I may call a determined chin, and the finest pair of -black eyes I ever saw. It seems he also is expecting you, -but he fears you may in some way find it difficult to reach -him, or may lose an instant of time in doing so. He is -likely to receive orders to sail for the States at any time; -and I gather from his quite evident anxiety that if he -should be forced to leave without having seen Miss Ray -it would be to him a calamity.”</p> - -<p>“It would be one to me too,” Jane answered, with a -rising colour but a steady meeting of her friend’s quizzical -look. “How, please, can I let him know?”</p> - -<p>“A messenger waits within call,” Miss Stoughton assured -her, gaily. “Our war-time telephone service is still -frightfully crippled, so we provide ourselves with substitutes. -A small boy is ready to run post-haste through -the streets of London to carry the news of your arrival to”—she -picked up a card lying upon a priceless small table -of an unbelievable antiquity of which Jane had long envied -her the possession, and read the name with distinctness—“‘<i>Mr. -Robert McPherson Black.</i>’ A very good -name, my dear, and one which well fits the man. I -should judge he is accustomed to have his own way in -most things, at the same time that an undoubted spirit -of kindness looks out of that somewhat worn face of his. -I will despatch the messenger at once. Shall we make an -appointment for the evening, or are you prepared to see -your friend within the hour? He will most certainly return -with the boy who goes for him—if he is not already -on his way, on the chance of finding you.”</p> - -<p>Jane came close to her hostess, and laid her hands upon -her shoulders. “Dear Miss Stoughton,” she said, “I’m<span class="pagenum" id="Page_364">[364]</span> -sure you understand. If military orders weren’t such -startling things and likely to arrive sooner than one expects -them, I would put Mr. Black off until evening -and just have the visit with you I so much want. But——”</p> - -<p>“I do perfectly well understand,” replied Miss Stoughton, -decidedly, “and I should be most awfully cross with -you if you put off that very fine man an hour longer than -necessary. He has two service chevrons and two wound -stripes on his arm, and he walks with a cane; I should not -be in the least surprised if within his blouse he wears concealed -some sort of decoration. In any case he deserves -every consideration. A chaplain with wounds has done -something besides read the prayer book to his men behind -the lines.”</p> - -<p>She left the room and sent off her messenger. Returning -she led Jane up the short staircase to the tiniest and -most attractive of English guest rooms.</p> - -<p>“You see, though I am not married nor intend to be,” -she said, with the smile which made her somewhat plain -but noteworthy face charming to her guest, “I can quite -understand that you would like a look in the mirror before -the Chaplain arrives. You have always reminded me of -some smooth-winged bird, but the smoothest winged of -birds will preen itself a good bit, and you shall do the -same. Then come down, and we’ll be having tea when the -knocker claps. After that—I have an engagement at -my work-rooms—oh, yes, indeed I have! There is still -much to be done for our soldiers and yours, you know.”</p> - -<p>Jane would have been more—or less—than woman if -she had not welcomed the chance to remove all possible -traces of her journey before the sounding of that knocker. -She made haste, but none too much, for Miss Stoughton’s -predictions were truer than could have been expected of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_365">[365]</span> -one who must walk with a cane. As the last hairpin -slipped into place the knocker fell, and Jane caught -one quick breath before she ran to complete the -freshening of every feather in those “smooth wings” -of hers.</p> - -<p>“He’s here, Jane dear,” Miss Stoughton presently -announced, as she followed her knock into the little guest -room. “I don’t consider myself at all susceptible to -bachelor attractions, but I will admit that I like this man’s -face and his nice manner—and—quite everything about -him. I’m going to slip out now, and let you come down to -find him alone.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, please stay and have tea with us first, Miss -Stoughton—please do!”</p> - -<p>“I am convinced of your sincerity and truthfulness,” -replied Miss Stoughton, “in all ordinary matters. I -should not hesitate to buy from you any rare curio in the -world on your word of honour alone that it was authentic. -But when you urge me to stay by my fireside and have -tea with you and a Scottish-American chaplain whom you -have not seen for considerably more than a year, I have -my doubts, my dear, of your good faith. I’ll see that the -kettle is boiling for you, and you, as you Americans say, -must ‘do the rest.’”</p> - -<p>Jane laughed, her eyes glowing. “Oh, you’re such a -friend,” she whispered. “But please don’t stay away -long. I want you to know Mr. Black—indeed I do. And -I’m so happy to have your home to meet him in.”</p> - -<p>“My home is yours—and his—while you stay.” And -Miss Stoughton went away, beaming with kindness—and -experiencing a touch of envy. What must it be, she -thought, to look as Jane was looking—so fresh and lovely -in spite of her years of business life and these months of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_366">[366]</span> -work and heavy care—and then go down to meet the eyes -of such a man as this who waited below for her? Miss -Stoughton walked very fast as she went through the -crowded streets; it was best to hurry to her work, and not -to think too long on what might be taking place in that -little drawing room of hers.</p> - -<p>Jane came down so quietly that Robert Black would not -have heard her if he had not been on the watch. When -she caught sight of him he was standing waiting for her, -leaning upon the stout cane without which he could not -yet wholly support himself. Her heart, at sight of the -thin yet strong and undaunted look of his face, the whole -soldierly pose of him in his uniform, gave one quick throb -of mingled joy and pain, and then went on beating wildly. -It couldn’t be real—it couldn’t—that after all both had -been through they had met again—that they were both -here, in this little London drawing room. Yet it <i>was</i> -real—oh, thank God, it <i>was</i> real!</p> - -<p>It was dark outside, but lamplight and firelight shone -on both faces as the two pairs of eyes looked into each -other.</p> - -<p>“It <i>is</i> you,” said Robert Black, after a moment, while -he still held Jane’s hand. “I can’t quite believe it—but -it is you. Will you mind if I look at you very hard, for a -little, to make myself sure?”</p> - -<p>“I’m not so sure it is you,” Jane said. She couldn’t -quite return that eager gaze, but she could take stock of -his appearance, none the less, as a woman may. “You -must have been through very, very much.”</p> - -<p>“Not more than you. You are not changed at all, in -one way; but in another way—you are. It is the change -that I expected, but—it takes hold of me, just the same. -You have seen—what you have seen.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_367">[367]</span>“Yes. And you have done—what you have done,” she -answered.</p> - -<p>“We have very much to tell each other, haven’t we? -And so little time, at the longest, to tell it in—till we meet -back home. I’m sorry to be going first, again, but I -have no choice. I wanted to wait for my regiment, but—I -suspect Red’s friend Doctor Leaver of having a hand -in these rigid orders to get out of the country.”</p> - -<p>“Aren’t the wounds doing well?” she asked him, with -the nurse’s straightforwardness which was so natural -to her now.</p> - -<p>“The wounds are all right, but they left a bit of trouble -behind. It’s nothing—only a matter of time. The sea -voyage alone will undoubtedly work wonders. Have you -any idea when you will be coming?”</p> - -<p>“Within a month or two, I imagine.”</p> - -<p>“Really?” His eyes lighted. “But—Jane—I can’t wait -even till then to hear all that you can tell me of yourself.”</p> - -<p>“Come and sit down. And—may I give you tea?”</p> - -<p>She laughed as she said it, and he laughed with her, a -note of sheer joy at the absurdity of stopping to drink tea, -when the time was so short.</p> - -<p>“Miss Stoughton will expect us to take it,” he admitted. -“It’s unthinkable that we shouldn’t bother about it. -Can’t we pour it away somewhere, where it will do no -harm? On the fire?”</p> - -<p>“And risk putting it out? I can never remember how -small an English fireplace is, in a house of this size, till I -see one again. Really, I don’t think it would do you any -hurt to take the tea. You’re not wholly strong yet.” -And she quickly made and poured it.</p> - -<p>“Anything to get it over,” he agreed, and took the cup -from her hand, drank, and set it down. “Now!” he said,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_368">[368]</span> -and sat down beside her. “Jane, I can’t believe it, yet. -I’ve been haunting Charing Cross Station for days. I -wanted to see you get off the train. I wanted to see you -before you saw me, so I could look—and look—and look -at you. It’s been so long to wait.... Well!” He -quite evidently laid sudden and firm restraint on his own -emotions—he didn’t mean to let himself get out of hand. -“Tell me all about it. You can’t know how I want to -hear.”</p> - -<p>“What will you have first?”</p> - -<p>“Begin at the beginning. Tell me—everything you -must know I want to know about you. How it began—what -came first—and what followed. And—most of all—where -you are now.”</p> - -<p>They never knew how the hours passed—three hours—while -they sat before the fire in the little London drawing -room and lived again the year and more that had separated -them. But when at last Robert Black, looking in amazement -at the watch upon his wrist, rose to go, he was in possession -of that knowledge of Jane’s experience which had -transformed him from a convalescent to a well man—or -so it seemed.</p> - -<p>He took both her hands in his, and stood looking down -at her.</p> - -<p>“I’m very certain that my ship doesn’t sail before -Monday,” he said, “or I shouldn’t take the chance I am -taking. Jane—I haven’t said a word of what is nearest -my heart. I have a strange fancy that I want to say that -word—to-morrow. Do you remember that to-morrow -is——”</p> - -<p>“Sunday. Indeed I do remember it. I have thought, -ever since I knew that I was coming, that if I could just—be -in London on a Sunday—with you——”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_369">[369]</span>His smile was like sunshine. “We’ll go to a service together. -Will you trust me to choose the place?”</p> - -<p>“I want you to.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll come for you in the morning,” he said. Then he -lifted first one of her hands to his lips and then the other, -said, “Good-night!” and was gone, with a military sort -of abruptness that was rather an emphasis of his former -self than a change from it.</p> - -<p>It was easy to know what he had to say to her, that he -had chosen to defer until the following day. It had been -in all his manner to her; there was no need that he should -tell her it was coming; it was a most characteristic postponement -and a highly significant one. Why, since he -could choose it, should he not select the great Day of the -week on which to say the words which he was not less -eager to speak than she to hear? That he should do so -could but show her how sacred an event it was to him, nor -fail to make it quite as sacred to her.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_370">[370]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XXII<br /> - - -<small>IN HIS NAME</small></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">MORNING, and the London streets, with Westminster -lifting its stately heights above them. Jane had been -quite sure that Black meant to take her there; somehow -there seemed no place where they could so much want to -go. Miss Stoughton had told her that all through the -war the great Abbey, like St. Paul’s, had been thronged -with the people who had gone, on week days as on the -Sabbath, to pray, as the new war-time phrasing had it, -“for those serving upon land and sea and in the air.” -And now, early as they had left the little house almost -under the Abbey’s shadow, they found the streets filled -with those who like themselves were pressing toward the -place where since the eleventh of November the nation’s -gratitude for victory was being voiced in each prayer and -song which rose from those sombre walls.</p> - -<p>So presently Jane found herself kneeling beside her -companion, in this place of places which stood for the very -heart of England. More than once on former visits to -London she had entered at those doors, but then it had -been only as a sightseer. Now, it was as a worshipper -that she had come. Everything in her life was changed, -since those former visits, and she herself was more changed -than all.</p> - -<p>It was in the midst of a great prayer, one not read from -the printed page but proceeding straight from the heart of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_371">[371]</span> -one of Westminster’s best-loved administrants, that Jane -felt a hand come upon hers. Fingers touched the fastening -of her glove, making known a wish. She drew off the -glove, and the bare hands clasped and so remained throughout -the whole period of kneeling through this and other -prayers. Strangers were all about, pressed close in the -rows of straight-backed chairs which were set even more -thickly this day than there had ever been need before, -yet Jane Ray and Robert Black were almost as much alone -in the midst of the throng as they could have been anywhere. -It seemed to Jane, as that warm, firm hand held -hers, that life flowed to her from it, so vital was the sense -of union. Though not a word had as yet been said, the -touch of this man’s hand seemed all but to speak aloud to -her of the love that was only waiting the hour for its expression. -The promise of that clasp was to her only a -shade less binding than the word that he should afterward -speak.</p> - -<p>When the service had ended and they were upon the -street again, Black did not lead her home. Instead he took -her slowly about and about the place until the crowds -had left it. Then he said, with a gesture toward the nave:</p> - -<p>“Shall we go back? There will still be people about, -but there’s room for all. I know a corner where I’m -sure we can be quite alone. Somehow, Jane—I want it -to be there. Don’t you?”</p> - -<p>She looked up, met such a glance as told her that the -hour had come, and bent her head in assent.</p> - -<p>“Church walls never meant so much to me as now,” he -said, very low, as they entered, “now, when the Church -has come into her own as never before. What does it -mean when the people crowd like that into her doors? -What did it mean when all those soldiers, as you told me,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_372">[372]</span> -crowded into that war-ruined cathedral? Why, it must -mean that the instinct to go where the Name of God is -most deeply associated with every stone and window is -something which is in every man who has ever heard song -and prayer ascend from such a place. He can’t do without -it—he can’t do without it.... And no more can we—<i>now</i>.”</p> - -<p>He said no more, while he led her down the great nave, -nearly deserted. People lingered here and there in famous -corners, beside distinguished name on statue or tablet, but -as Black had said, there was room for all in that vast -space. And presently they had come to a spot behind a -stone column where they were in sight of none, and all -were far away. Black took Jane’s hand in his again, and -himself drew off the glove.</p> - -<p>“Jane,” he said, with that in his low tone which spoke -his feeling, “it seemed to me that I must have our first -prayer together in this place. I came to Westminster -and this very spot, when our regiment was in London, -more than a year ago. I knelt here, all alone, and asked -God, as I had never asked before, that He would make Himself -real to you. He has done it, as you have told me, and -I wanted to bring you here and thank Him, on my knees. -Because now, we can work together—all the rest of our -lives—in His Name. Is it so—Jane?”</p> - -<p>She could not look up. Great sobbing breaths caught -her unawares and shook her from head to foot. She felt -his arm come about her, felt his hand press her face against -his shoulder, and there, for a few minutes, she cried her -heart out. He held her silently, and with such a tender -strength that it seemed to her that she had come into some -wonderful refuge, such as she had never dreamed of. -All the tension, all the weariness, all the heart-wrenching<span class="pagenum" id="Page_373">[373]</span> -sights and sounds of the last year, had come back to her -in one overwhelming flood at his words, as they had come -many times before. But never, at such times, could she -let go; always she had had to hold fast to her courage and -her will, lest giving way weaken her for the pressing, -unremitting tasks yet to be done. In the old, ruined -cathedral a month before, she had had all she could do -to keep control and not suffer a very hysteria of reaction, -such as, alone among those hundreds of men, would have -done both herself and them a harm. But now—she -knew for the first time in her independent, resourceful -life, what it might mean to lean upon an arm stronger than -her own, and to feel, as she was momently feeling more -sustainingly, that another life was tied so closely to her -own that neither sorrow nor joy could ever shake her -again that it should not shake that life too.</p> - -<p>By and by the storm passed. No longer did she want -to weep—a great peace came upon her. She stood still -within the right arm which held her—the uninjured arm—she -didn’t know that he could not lift that left arm yet nor -use it beyond slight effort. Now, at last, he spoke.</p> - -<p>“Will you kneel with me, here? No one will see—and -if they did—everyone prays now.”</p> - -<p>So they knelt, and Robert Black poured out his heart -in a few low-spoken words which, if she had still been unbelieving -that they could be heard, must have stirred her -to the depths. As it was, convinced past all power of -sceptic argument to shake, Jane’s own soul spoke with his -to the God who had brought her where she was.</p> - -<p>With the last words his hand came again upon her cheek -and turned her face gently toward his. His lips sealed -his betrothal to her with a reverent passion of pledging -which told her, more plainly than any words could have<span class="pagenum" id="Page_374">[374]</span> -done, that that life of his was now fully hers. It was the -life of no pale saint, she well knew, but that of a man whose -blood was red and swift-flowing, whose pulses beat as fast -and humanly as her own. But he had chosen to devote -that virile life to service in the Church, with the same ardour -with which, during these months just past, he had -given of his best to help defeat the enemies of that Church -and all for which it stands. No fear for her now that -service with him back on the old home grounds would be -dull or tame or weak; it would call for the best she had to -give. And she would give it, oh, but she would give it! -She knew, at last, that no task of his in that service could -seem to her uncongenial, if to him it was worth while.</p> - -<p>As they walked slowly back up the long, quiet nave, it -was as from some high rite. At the door Robert Black -turned and looked back into the dim distance of the great -vaulted interior. Then he looked down into Jane’s face.</p> - -<p>“It’s done,” he said, with a smile which lighted his eyes -into altars upon which burned holy fires of love and joy, -“and never can be undone. And when you’re home -again—oh, please promise me—we’ll have—the rest of it—without -any delay at all?”</p> - -<p>“I promise.” The smile she gave him back, he thought, -was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.</p> - -<p>At the door of the little house under the shadow of the -great Abbey, Miss Stoughton met them with a message, -sent in haste from Dr. John Leaver, forwarding Black’s -orders to sail that night.</p> - -<p>“But if,” he said, standing with Jane at the last moment, -alone with her in the small drawing room, “by any -strange happening this should be all that we ever had of -each other in this life, we have had—it all! Jane, we have -had it all—all the best of it!”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_375">[375]</span>“Yes!” she breathed it. “But”—she lifted her face -and whispered it—“I want—a life-time to say that in!”</p> - -<p>“So do I—bless you!—and we shall have it—somehow -I’m very sure. God keep you safe, my Best Beloved, I -know He will!”</p> - -<p>Then he went away, limping a very little with his cane, -but walking very erect and looking as if he had won all -the wars of all the worlds. He could hardly have been so -happy if he had.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_376">[376]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XXIII<br /> - - -<small>THE TOWN WAS EMPTY BEFORE</small></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">“OF <i>course</i> I’m going down to New York to see him in!” -shouted Dr. Redfield Pepper Burns. He waved a -cable message in his good right hand. “What did I wire -Leaver to wire me the date for, if not so I could be on the -pier yelling when that darn chaplain of the ——nth gets -in? Why, if Cary Ray’s word is to be trusted, Black’s -come through hell, same as the rest of ’em. Be there? -You <i>bet</i> I’ll be there.”</p> - -<p>He was there. Nothing could have stopped him. He -wanted to see instantly for himself that those shoulder and -thigh injuries of which Leaver had written were not going -to leave any serious or permanent results. Besides—oh, -yes, he wanted to see the man himself, his friend,—who -had faced death for him, as every soldier who went had -faced it, for those who were left behind. He wanted to see -Robert McPherson Black, and look into those keen, dark -eyes of his, and see break over the well-remembered clean-cut -face that smile which Red knew the first wave of his -arm would bring.</p> - -<p>People on that pier had to make way when a certain -chaplain came down the gangway. A big man with a -red head politely but irresistibly put them aside from his -path, and they saw him grasp the chaplain’s hand. They -didn’t hear much, but they saw that two friends had met.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_377">[377]</span> -The very silence of that first instant told the story of a -glad reunion.</p> - -<p>Later, the words came fast enough. When Red could -get Black to himself his first questions were pointedly -professional. Satisfied upon the items he had wished -made clear, he turned his attention to making his welcome -manifest.</p> - -<p>“I don’t want you to think I’ve lost my head,” he said, -in the taxicab which was taking the two men to their -train. Black was on furlough; the way had been made -clear for him to go at once, though he was to rejoin his -regiment when it came home later, pending his and his -men’s discharge. “But I’m just so plain glad to have you -back I’ve got to say it, and say it out loud. I knew well -enough when you went you wouldn’t play safe, over there—and -you haven’t.”</p> - -<p>“Just how much use,” inquired Black, looking him -straight in the eye, “would you have had for me if I had?”</p> - -<p>“Not much.”</p> - -<p>“Well, then——”</p> - -<p>The two laughed, as men do when there is real emotion -behind the laughter. Red let his welcome go at that -for the present, and plunged into talk about the armistice -and the present condition of things. But late that night, -when Black having reached the haven of Red’s home, after -a quick journey by the fastest train over the shortest -route, was sent to his room at what Red considered a -proper hour—midnight—he had wanted to sit up until -morning, but he considered Black still a convalescent, -and now in his charge—Red gave his friend his real welcome. -To this day Black preserves a scrawl upon a certain -professional prescription blank, which was pushed under -his door that night just before he switched off his light.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_378">[378]</span>All the evening he had been made to feel how they all -cared. Mrs. Burns had given him the most satisfying -of greetings; the Macauleys had rushed in to see him; -Samuel Lockhart had called him upon the telephone to -make an appointment for the morning. His whole parish -would have been in to wring his hand if Red had not -kept his actual arrival a secret for that night except to these -chosen few. But nothing that anybody said or did gave -him half the joy that he found in those few words written -slantwise across the little white slip with R. P. Burns’ -name and address printed at the top and no signature at -all at the bottom. Considering that day, now almost three -years back, when Robert Black had first looked across the -space between pulpit and pew and coveted the red-headed -doctor for his friend, and taking into account all the difficulties -he had found in getting past the barriers Red had -set up against him, it was not strange that his heart gave -one big, glad throb of exultation as he read these words:—</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“<i>The town was empty before—it’s full now, though not -another blamed beggar comes into it to-night.</i>”</p> -</div> - -<p>Two months later Jane came home, to find Cary there -before her, with Fanny as his bride. They had been married -in Paris, “with all the thrills,” as Cary said, beaming -proudly upon the slender figure in the French frock beside -him, as he described the wedding to his sister. A few -days later Robert Black and Jane Ray themselves were -quietly married at the home of Dr. Redfield Pepper Burns -and went at once to the manse, which had been made -ready for them by the united efforts of Mrs. Burns, Miss -Lockhart and Mrs. Hodder, Black’s former housekeeper.</p> - -<p>At the wedding breakfast, Cary, self-appointed master of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_379">[379]</span> -ceremonies, rose in his place. He looked around at the -little company, his eyes resting first on one and then -another, till he had swept the circle. Then he made a -speech, which he always afterward asserted to be his -masterpiece in the way of rhetorical effort, struck off, as -it was, on the inspiration of the hour.</p> - -<p>Getting up in the correspondent’s uniform which it had -pleased him to put on once more for the occasion, since -Black, as yet undischarged, was obliged still to wear the -olive-drab with the cross upon the collar, Cary began:—</p> - -<p>“In view of the fact that the bridegroom is still in O. D., -it seems to me that it ought to be known to you people -what it looks as if he never meant to tell you for himself. -It’s only by chance that I found it out, but, by George! -I’m going to tell you, since he won’t.”</p> - -<p>He walked around to Black, and laid hand upon the -topmost button of his new brother-in-law’s tunic. Black -put up a hand and attempted to restrain him, but it could -not be done, without a fight. He therefore submitted, -the colour rising in his cheek, while Cary unfastened the -tunic and threw back its left side, whereupon a certain -famous war medal for distinguished service became visible.</p> - -<p>“My faith!” burst from Red’s lips. “I knew it! But -I never dared ask.”</p> - -<p>“The wearer of this,” Cary went on, while Black’s eyes -fell before the glow of joy he had caught in Jane’s, “went -over the top with his men every blooming time they went, -till Fritz finally got him. But before the shrapnel that -put him out at last left the guns he had brought in wounded -under every sort of hot fire, had taken every chance there -was, and that last day—turned the trick that brought him -this,——” and Cary laid a reverent hand upon the medal. -“It happened this way——”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_380">[380]</span>“No—please!——” began Black quickly, turning in -protest. “Not now—nor here——”</p> - -<p>But Cary wouldn’t be restrained. “Now—and here, -by your leave, Bob, or without it. I won’t go into details, -if you don’t like me to, but I will say this much: The -story concerns a machine-gun on our side which had lost -its last gunner, trying to put out a machine-gun nest of the -enemy’s which was enfilading our men and mowing them -down. This Bob Black of ours comes up, jumps in, and -keeps things going all by himself till—the spit-fire over -there was silenced. It may not have been the proper deed -for the chaplain—I don’t know—but I do know that he -saved ten times more lives than he took—and I say—here’s -to him—and God bless him!”</p> - -<p>The toast to which all had risen was drunk in a quivering -silence, with Jane’s hand upon her husband’s shoulder, -and her proud and beautiful eyes meeting his with a glance -which said it all.</p> - -<p>Then Black rose. “Sometime, Cary,” he said, with a -glance, “I’ll be even with you for this. Sometime I shall -have found out all the chances <i>you</i> took, and I’ll recite -them on some public occasion and make you wince as you -never winced under shot and shell. But while we are -drinking toasts—in this crystal clear water of our wedding -feast which is better than any wine for such an hour—I -want to propose one which is very near my heart. Not -all the war medals that ever were struck would be big -enough or fine enough to pin upon some of the breasts -that most deserved them. One man I know, who desperately -wanted to go across and take his part in the salvaging -of life from the wreck, but couldn’t go, nevertheless -contributed one of the most efficient means to saving life -that has been used by some of the best surgeons there.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_381">[381]</span> -And I want to say—‘here and now’—as Cary says—that -I consider it took more gallantry on the part of this same -red-headed—and red-blooded—fellow to stay here and -carry on, as he did, with speeches and loan-raising, and -all the rest of the unthanked tasks that he put through -at heavy cost to his own endurance, than to have gone -across, as he longed to do, and won medals by spectacular -work that would have made his name famous on both -sides of the water. So here’s to Dr. Redfield Pepper -Burns, bearer of a heavier cross than I have ever borne,—and -winner of one more shining. And I, too, say—God -bless him!”</p> - -<p>They looked into each others’ eyes, these two, across the -table, and Red’s eyes fell before the light that was in -Black’s. It was not only the light that his wedding day -had brought there, it was the light of a friendship which -should last throughout these two men’s lives, and bless -both, all the way.</p> - - -<p class="center">THE END</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="transnote"> -<p class="ph3">TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:</p> - - - -<p>Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.</p> - -<p>Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.</p> - -<p>The cover image for this eBook was created by the transcriber and is entered into the public domain.</p> -</div></div> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RED AND BLACK ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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