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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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