An Unwilling Guest (15 page)

Evelyn read this letter with mingled
emotions. Ordinarily this invi
tation would have been anything but attractive to her. She was not a born nurse; she did not like to be with sick people; there had never been any deep, tender feeling between her brother and herself; and she had not many friends in Philadelphia.
Nevertheless,
Hillcroft
was des
titute of occupation for her unless she undertook the reformation of
Bert
Judkins
, or his like, for which she
did not feel particularly quali
fied. The waiting here was likely to be long and tedious if she had to stay till her aunt was out of quarantine, and she felt nervous about going to her even after everything was pronounced safe. Undoubtedly her father would be satisfied if Dick chose to send for her, and the change would be a real relief. Meantime, underneath all these questions which she weighed deliberatel
y, there was an undertone of de
sire, or perhaps it was only willingness, to do something for someone else which would be accounted good in herself. In other words, she had watched the unselfish lives of those around her long enough to wish to work out a little salvation for herself. And so, without much thought, and certainly not "with fear and trembling," but with a full degree of assurance of success, she set out to work salvation for herself. She would be good to Dick, poor fellow! It was hard for him to be shut up there when he had expected to go off hunting in a few days. There had always been a certain degree of fondness between them, but never the deep affection—at least not suspected by themselves—that there was between Allison Grey and her brother. Evelyn wondered now, as she hurried downstairs to make known her decision to her hostess, if there ever could be cultivated such a tie between herself and Dick as existed between Doctor Grey and his sister. She felt a faint yearning for something of the sort. It would be nice to have one's brother care as much as that.

To do her justice, she was not anxious to shine virtuously before any human beings. She wished only to feel satisfied in her own heart that she had been doing some good to someone else, and—yes, before that other One, Christ. She would like to feel less small when she knelt to make that daily petition. It occurred to her on the way downstairs that it would be much
pleasanter if Dick
had fallen down in New York in
stead of Philadelphia. Perhaps he mig
ht have sent for his friend Doc
tor Grey. She would like to meet him again, though perhaps it was just as well, after all, not to, for she desired above all things to get away from the unrest with which the strange new thoughts had filled her.

Mrs. Grey fully agreed with her guest that she ought to go to her brother, and a message was sent by the doctor over the telephone to
the quarantined aunt, who also cheer
fully acquiesced in the arrange
ment

Evelyn packed her trunks hurriedly as she discovered that she could leave by the noon train and make connection with the Philadelphia sleeper. There was no time to talk; everything was confusion and hurry. Almost before they were aware, their guest was gone and All
i
son was unhitching the pony from the post across the road and driving away from the station. She drove slowly and sighed several times. She could not tell whether she was glad or sorry that Miss Rutherford was gone. She felt that her attitude during her stay had been a mistake, and that she had let many opportunities for witnessing for Christ go by unheeded. She would be glad to live that part of her life over and do better, but on the whole it was a relief to her to have the dear home nest to themselves once more. Miss Rutherford was a person from too different a world to ever be congenial. Life with her had been at too high tension to be comfortable. Allison was glad to come in sight of the loved home and know that her round of pleasant duties would be again uninterrupted. Miss Rutherford had said, "You must come to New York and see me some time. I should love to show you New York." It had been spoken very cordially, but Allison meant never to go. She shuddered at the thought. What questions of right and wrong she would have to meet, what constant challenging of her views! How little her tastes would blend with the probable Rutherford home life! What agonies of social etiquette all new to her would she have to face! Never! Never!

Does our heavenly Father sometimes smile at our fierce assertion of what we will and will not do, seeing in his loving kindness that this is the very thing we need most, and forthwith brings it to us, that we may bear and learn and then give him glory when we understand?

Evelyn
was seated in the parlor car with her belongings about her, the neat farms and pleasant homes once more whirling past her, and
Hillcroft
a thing of history. She coul
d not help remembering the jour
ney thither and comparing her anticipation with the actual facts. How different it had been from what she had planned! She had not even seen her Aunt Joan. She found to her
surprise a lingering disappoint
ment about that now. She had lived for nearly three weeks where Miss Joan Rutherford was a loved and honored member of society. She had learned to respect her from what she had heard of her, if she did not love her yet, and now that she was a
ctually speeding away from
Hill
croft
, she began to think how disappointed her father would be when he learned she had been there without even seeing his dear sister. For she knew that his sister was dear to him, even though he was a man who seldom spoke of his personal feelings. He always answered her letters promptly and insisted upon his children doing the same, much to their dislike; she could remember that one of the few t
imes
when he had punished her most severely wa
s because she had spoken disre
spectfull
y of this aunt. For the first time
in her life it occurred to her that her father led a lonely life. It had seemed his natural part and she had never thought he needed anything else. She loved him, of course, and supposed he loved her, but they never exhibited this love in any way. What a difference it would make in their home if there were such ways as they had at the
Greys'
. Would her father care to have her meet him when he came home at night and kiss him? Could she do it? What if she should try? She began to realize that it was not all her father's fault that th
eir home l
i
f
e was cold and each one went his separate way.
Could it be that her father was lonely and would like his daughter to be affectionate and companionable? It must have been hard to have his young wife die and leave him with two children to bring up. He had his business, true, and perhaps all his thought and feeling had been absorbed into that. Still, she could remember times when he would drop his paper across his knee and sit back in his chair with a sad expression and his eyes shaded. Was he recalling his early life and dreams then? How strange that she had never thought of her father in this way before! Perhaps she might be a little good, like Allison, if she attempted to make things a trifle pleasanter for her father and brother. Suppose she should sometime be changed into such a girl as Allison. It couldn't be done, of course, but suppose it could. What would they all think of her, her father and brother and the servants? What would Jane think? And what would Mr. Worthington think? Yes, and what would Doctor Grey think? Ah, but he would never know, and why should she take all this trouble, anyway? Oh, dear! Life was a dismal thing at best. She was anxious to get back once more into the whirl of things and forget all this fanaticism. It was actually getting into her brain. She wished she had something to read. True, there was in her bag a tiny volume Allison had given her when she left her at the train, but she could see at a glance that it was more of this
uncomfortable religion which she hoped she was leaving behind in
Hillcroft
. She wanted something better. She
rang
for the porter and asked him to summon the news agent with some books from which she could select one. He came whistling in from the door behind her chair, slamming it after him, and at the porter's sign dumped his pile of books in the aisle by her chair, while he selected a few for her scrutiny.

"Did you want a love story, ma'am, or some real blood and thunder?
This here book is
--
" He stopped with an exclamation. "Hello! Is
this you? You
ain't
goin
' home so soon, are you?"

She raised her eyes with freezing dignity to the saucy, handsome ones above her and beheld Bert
Judkins
.

"I'm taking this feller's route while
he's sick. I could get it perma
nent if I was to try, 'cause he's tired of it, but she"—he paused and nodded back toward
Hillcroft
—"she's awful set against it. She says I'll
have to run Sunday, and I
s'pose
I will. But a feller's got to live, though she won't allow that. She says you've only got to do right and starve if you
ain't
looked after. There
ain't
any 'got' about living. Course, if that's the way you look at it, she's 'bout right, an' if I decide to do what she wants, I
sha'n't
try
fer
this. Say, has she roped you into this thing too, or are you one of '
em
? I didn't think you was quite their kind, but you're a jolly player."

He piled his books at her feet and seated himself familiarly in the chair next to hers, which happened to be vacant

It was a trifle amusing and also embarrassing. Bert
Judkins
in the parlor of her hostess as an amateur violinist, among people who knew him and for whom she did not care, and Bert
Judkins
as newsagent on a parlor car filled with elegant strangers was two different beings. However, they were all strangers to her, and she glanced about and decided it did not matter in the least. She could, of course, order him off or send for the porter, but she had tasted of the joy of helping on a good cause, and to her credit, be it said, it did not occur to her to go back upon her one-time
prot
égé
in this way.

He did not stay long. His business called him away soon, but he managed to get in a good deal of talk and a few troublesome questions.

"Did you say she'd roped you in?" he asked again, without the least consciousness of being impudent. Evelyn colored and understood. Was this boy even going to keep it up? She turned him off again and again. But he was keen enough to understand that she knew from the way he changed his conversation. It was as if he felt a responsibility upon him to do or say something that his teacher would have done were she in his place. He was awkward at it, but he was never shy.

"I say," he said, when she had for the
fifth time turned off his ques
tion by picking up a book and examining it, "
mebbe
you'd make
an
other partnership affair of it. I don't know as I'm just
ready to say I'd do what she wants yet myself, but
mebbe
bime
-by I'd say yes, if you would. Something like we did Sunday night, you know."

"Well, you let me know when you are ready," said Evelyn quickly, glad to have a chance to get out of the thing and at the same time say nothing to hinder Allison's work.

"I will, that's a bargain," said he with a brisk business-like air, "and I guess I'm about made up not to go on the railroad 'count o' Sunday travel, anyway not till I'm sure about the whole
shootin
' match."

With which elegant and reverent expression he whirled himself and his books into the next car and left Eve
lyn in a state bordering on hys
terics. It was silly, of course, to mind what the uncouth boy had said, but again and again his sharp questions came back, making her think of other questions as searching, but asked in quiet, cultured tones. How was it that this thing seemed to pursue her as she went? Well, that boy would leave at Pittsburg and then she would deliberately settle herself to forget it all.

Bert was very busy during the remainder of the way to Pittsburg. He did not have t
ime
for talk. He paid her little delicate attentions that any gentleman might have done, perh
aps, and she knew it was for Al
lison's sake. He came in with a book he had found among the stock, "The Sky Pilot," which he told her was "a dandy" and "she" was "awful fond of," and another time he quietly laid a box of
Huyler's
best chocolates in her lap. She showed
her appreciation of these atten
tions by a quiet smile and would not offend him by offering to pay for what she knew he gave for love of his teacher, though she resolved to make it up to him when she should be where she could select some good music for him, which she would send through Allison.

Just before the tram rushed into Pittsburg he halt
ed by her seat, pencil and note
book i
n
hand.

"Where did you say you lived in New York?" he demanded. "Sixty-fourth Street? What number? I m
ight be there some
day and then I'll call and see you. Good-bye. Hope you have a good journey. Sorry you can't play for me some more.
Me
bbe
you'll come back again some
day. Ta
ta
," and with a familiar wave of his hand he swung himself out the door much to her relief, as other pass
engers were gathering about pre
paratory to leaving the car and looking curiously at the ill-assorted couple,

He appeared to her again as she was trying to find a place where a decent supper could be obtained, and pushed into her hands another volume. "It's 'Black Rock,'" he explained, 'The other one. I knew
you'd want to read it too. I got it off the agent in the station. There goes my return whistle," and off he went th
is time without the parting sen
tence which she had been dreading.

What had she done? Given him her New York address! What if he sh
ould suddenly appear there some
day with his familiar "
ta
ta
" and his strange mixing of subjects and poi
nted personal questions? He cer
tainly would create a sensation. Nevertheless, as she settled herself in the
sleeper two hours later she had to admit to herself that Bert
Judkins
had enlivened her lonely journey for her that afternoon and that she had him to thank for the two fascinating books into which she had dipped enough to know that they contained food for future thought.
G
wen's Canon was to be to her a study. She did not understand it now. The canon in her own life which would come some day, as yet seemed so impossible that she could but stand outside the story of this other girl and wonder.

Finally the experiences of the day and, to a certain extent, of the past three weeks, faded somewhat and
she began to look forward to to
morrow and its possibilities. As she thought of her brother lying in a gloomy hotel room she felt a pity for him new to her. Her own position as nurse was strongly influenced by the atmosphere in which she had been moving lately. A month ago she
would have been going to Phila
delphia more for her own sake than her brother's. Now the feeling of help for him was strong upon her and grew as she sped nearer to him. Something like love glowed in her heart. Of course it was love. She had always loved her brother, in a way, but she did not remember to have ever realized it before, except the time they thought he was drowned, for a few hours, when he was a little fellow. And yet he was a lovable fellow, handsome and bright and scholarly. His tastes were much like hers, but they had been separated during late years. She had been away to school and he to college, and afterward they each had their friends and engagements and came and went without much reference to each other, a fashion the
Rutherfords
had. Evelyn began to see that this had been her fault largely, for it is the woman of a home who keeps the home the center of the life of the family. A man does not know how to do it. She resolved at least to make some little changes in
the way she had been doing. There was no reason why she should not have more of her brother's society. It might be very convenient, and she certainly envied Allison the love of such a brother. It would at least give her something to do. Yes, she would try to be more sisterly to poor Dick and see how it worked. Of course she would not do anything outlandish, but this was the spirit of what Doctor Grey had wanted her to do, she recognized that, the spirit of Christianity. At least it was the spirit he and his family showed and she would try on a bit of it and see how it fitted. With this reflection and the hurried prayer which was fast becoming a habit, she fell asleep.

Philadelphia looked almost as dismal as Pittsburg in the early morning light. The air was full of a fine cold mist and the streets were wet and sticky. She took a cab and drove to the hotel at which her brother was staying. She sent up to find out how he was and word came down from the nurse that he was awake and very restless. Then she went up at once. She had not sent word she was coming, nor sent up her name by the porter, so her entrance was an entire surprise.

Mr. Richard Rutherford had lain awake nearly all night. He was suffering somewhat, but his main trouble seemed to be nervousness, the nurse explained, as he met Evelyn at the door. He had declared he would not lie there any longer, and demanded to be allowed to turn over or move or do something forbidden, until the nurse was well-nigh out of patience. He stood at the door, heavy-eyed, telling the story in a half-complaining tone to Evelyn and the patient called him in no pleasant voice from within. Something in her brother's intonation roused all the womanliness
and motherliness and loveliness in the girl She saw in a flash how some woman was needed, their mother if she had lived, perhaps—if she had been such a woman as Mrs. Grey. What peace and comfort Mrs. Grey would bring into the forlorn room in a little while! She saw as in a vision how she might try it herself; that this was meant for her to do, that it would be a good and right thing to do; and she seemed to know at once that it would be difficult because of her
unaccustomedness
and because of her ease-loving nature. Then without more ado she resolved to do it, at least for a few minutes or hours, till this need should pass. She would be Mrs. Grey, or Allison,
as far as she knew how. She put the nurse aside without ceremony and entered. Going softly to the bedside where her brother lay, white and suffering and impatient, she stooped over and kissed him gently on the forehead. She reflected afterward that she was getting into a great habit of kissing people, and it was rather nice after all, much as she used to despise it. It touched her to see her brother's look of pleased surprise as she kissed him and said: