An Unwilling Guest (21 page)

It became necessary to almost se
nd the guest home when a reason
able hour had arrived, as he was not yet proficient in the art of early leave-taking, but Evelyn could see th
at her brother had enjoyed hear
ing his talk. It was something new and fresh to him and Bert's ideas were sometimes quite original.

"Now look here," said Mr. Rutherford, as the guest at last got as far as the hall door toward departure, "you want to have a good time while you're in New York. I suppose you'll go sight-seeing all day."

"You bet!" said Bert. "Got a list as long as from here to China of things I must see and places I must go. She made it out"

Mr. Rutherford had been fumbling in his pocketbook. He. Drought out two tickets. "Here, take these theatre tickets," he sai
d graciously. "You'll find some
one else to go along, I dare say, and I shall not be using them, as I have another engagement It's a good play."

Bert took the tickets and studied them carefully a moment and then handed them back. "Much obliged," he said in a matter-of-fact tone, "but I don't want '
em
."

The donor was a little taken aback at this lack of gratitude and said stiffly: "You don't care for the theatre, then?"

"Who said I didn't?" was the belligerent response. "I used to go every night I got a chance when I was back in Chicago. No, but she don't like '
em
, an' I promised her 'fore I come
that I wouldn't go near one of ‘
em
. When I make a promise to a lady I generally like to keep it, you know."

"Indeed!" said the astonished young man. "And who is the lady to whom you have made such an extraordinary promise, may I ask?"

"Why, don't you know her? Miss Grey, Miss Allison Grey. She's my Sunday-school teacher."

"You don't say so!" ejaculated Richard Rutherford, still bewildered, and then he bethought himself of another ticket which he
searched
for and brought to light.

"Let me see, didn't I hear that
you were fond of music and some
what of a musician yourself?" he said.

"I rather guess you did," said the boy, with no apparent
embarrass
ment.

"Well, here is a ticket to one of the Thomas concerts. It's the great Thomas Orchestra, you know, as fine music as you can find in the world."

With shining eyes Bert clutched the ticket."Now you're shouting!" he said, tossing his hat into the air and catching it to express himself more fully. "Gee whizz! Won't I tell '
em
about that when I get home, though?"

Bert came again just before he left New York. He had enjoyed his stay immensely. He gave a few characteristic descriptions to Evelyn of the things he had seen. Suddenly he turned to her and said: "Say, who was that sucker you had here the other night?"

"Sucker!" said Evelyn. "What in the world do you mean, Bert? You seem t
o have a great many new words in
your vocabulary. I wonder Miss Grey doesn't put a stop to your slang."

"
H'm
!" said Bert, twirling his hat thoughtfully. "Well, she does try pretty often, but it
ain't
much use. It kind of comes natural, you see. Why, I mean that cad who undertook to run me out
the other evening. He
ain't
a particular friend of yours, is he? 'Cause I saw him last night down on the Bowery drunk as a fish. He
ain't
your kind. You better keep him out o' here."

Evelyn's cheeks g
r
ew hot
in
spite of herself. She did not like to think of her past friendly relations with the man in question, but she assured Bert he was no friend of hers now.

"Well, I'm mighty glad," he said with a relieved sigh. "And say, I got something else to tell you before I go. 'Bout that partnership of ours. You said I was to tell you when I was ready to make it a go, and I've about made up my mind I'll try it if you'll say the word. I'd like
mighty well to tell Miss Allison you was coming too. It would sort of make up for me being so long about it if I
brung
you along."

How strangely were the different influences of her life closing around her, even this one which she had not counted an influence at all, this boy whom she had essayed to help; and was he perhaps to help her instead?

She looked at him thoughtfully and then gave him a bright smile and said: "I'll do my best, Bert."

"It's a go then," said Bert solemnly, taking her hand in good-bye as if he were registering a vow, and perhaps he was.

E
velyn dismissed her maid for the night and sat down in her room to read her letter. It was not a long one, but it contained many things that set her heart throbbing wildly. There was mention of Allison's brother and of how much the c
hurch and Sunday-school were in
terested in his work in China; even her Sunday-school class had pledged each a dollar a year from their
meagre
earnings to endow a bed in the new hospital, this last starte
d by the indefatigable Bert. Al
lison spoke of taking the same drive with her brother when he was at home that he had taken with Evelyn the year before, and described the scenery vividly, so that Evelyn closed her eyes and could almost feel that she was there again with that man beside her who could tell her so much. Oh, if he were here but for a lit
tle minute, how she would ques
tion him! She would find out what it was he wanted her to do, and how to go about it. Why had she never d
one so? Why had she not made op
portunity? The letter went on to say that they had spoken of Miss Rutherford during their drive, and that Allison's brother had told her how kind Miss Rutherford had been, making bright spots of friendship in his desert of hard work. The tears rushed to Evelyn's eyes as she read this. How little it had been; barely one invitation to dinner and a call or two.

Allison closed by saying she wrote this at Bert's request, as she felt he would be more welcome carrying a message from her, though she feared Evelyn might not be particularly overjoyed with the visit

Evelyn leaned wearily back in her chair at last and let the tears course slowly down her cheeks. She was not used to crying, but she
seemed to be unnerved and not like herself. She had tried to tell herself all summer that she must get over this strange infatuation for a man whom she would probably never see again and who did not care for her. But somehow she did not want to get over it; it comforted and strengthened her to feel that she cared for him. A new desire had been roused in her heart to find out just what it was he had wanted her to do and just how to do it. All summer she had prayed, though the words of her prayer had changed. They were no longer "make me willing," but "show me the way." The first had been answered. She had come to believe in the miracle of prayer. Nothing could have been farther from her mind when she first began to pray than that she would ever be willing to give up her life of gayety and "be good," as she phrased it, but now there was no attraction in the world for her. Everything she had formerly enjoyed was distastef
ul to her. She could even under
stand how Allison was happy in her home and her work. Oh, if there were but a home and work for her, perhaps she too could be happy, yes, even with that great longing in her heart for a love that was not hers.

What if she should try the Bible? Was it as great a talisman as prayer? If she but had someone to help her. And then a thought came that moved her to prompt action. Allison was just the one she needed. She would write and invite her at once.

She went to her desk and wrote:

DEAR ALLISON: Your letter reached me to-night and showed me exactly what I want and need. It is you. Will you come to me? I want you for two or three months, if your mother can spare you. Now, please don't plead that your work will keep you. One heathen is as good as another, and I think perhaps there is room for your work here in New York.

Don't wait to fix up a lot of clothes. I am being very quiet this winter. Somehow I don't care to go out as much as I used to do. And I have hosts of things that we can fix up beautifully for you, should any occasion offer when you need more than you have to have in
Hillcroft
. Marie, my maid, is skillful at sewing and fitting, and time hangs heavy on her hands just now, so if there is anything you need, get it here and let her make it I really cannot wait for you to come, now that I have set my heart upon it.

We had a most unique visit from Bert. I am glad he came. I will tell you about it when you get here. Now, please don
't say there is anything to hin
der your coming, and do write by return mail to tell us when to meet you.

Your sincere friend,

EVELYN M. RUTHERFORD.

The letter written, Evelyn felt happier. She sealed it and then went into the library, where she was surprised to find a light still burning and her brother with a newspaper across his knees but his eyes shaded by his hand. He did not stir as she came in, and she thought he might be asleep. She searched silently in the bookcase for some minutes, and then mounted a chair to reach to the top shelf. In doing so she caught her foot in her skirt and almost lost her balance. A slight exclamation of dismay and the fall of a book she had been reaching for just above her head brought her brother to her rescue.

"What are you doing up there, Evelyn?" he asked, helping her down and putting the book back in its place.

She hesitated a minute, half annoyed, and then spoke the truth:

"I was looking to see if there wasn't a little old Bible up there that I used to have when I was in school. I want to see one a minute, and there doesn't seem to be one in the house. It is odd, when you come to think of it, but I can't remember that we ever had one."

"I have one. I'll get it for you," he said, not seeming to notice her look of surprise, and presently he returned from his room with a handsomely bound Bible, apparently new.

"Thank you," said Evelyn as calmly as her brother had spoken, but she went to her room with not a little curiosity.

Evelyn sat down with the book in
her hand and turned to the fly
leaf. Written in a clear, bold hand were these words: "A parting gift to my dear friend, Richard L. Rutherford,
with the hope that he will some
times read it, and that it may grow as dear to him as to his friend, Maurice Hamilton Grey."

The date was in the last week before Doctor Grey left for the West.

Evelyn's heart stood still. It was almost like having another view of him to read these words. This, then, was how Richard came to have a Bible; and he too had been thought of and probably prayed for. She
drew a long breath and wondered if her brother felt any longing for the things that had been growing more and more interesting to her. The Bible did not look as if it had had hard usage, but neither did it look as if it had never been opened before. As Evelyn sat back and turned the leaves it opened of itself to a place that had been marked, and she read:

"Then Jesus beholding him loved him, and said unto him, One thing thou
lackest
."

She read back a little way and thought how well that described her brother. Did the one who marked it think so too? Oh, that she could find a verse marked for herself! She put her face down into the cool pages and closed her eyes and tried to pray, but no words would come, and the prayer went up to the throne a great longing
unphrased
, and the Father who
knoweth
all knew the interpretation and the answer thereof.

When that invitation reached Alli
son she was laying out an elabo
rate plan of work for the winter. There were plans for her class, for the mill girls, for the young people's meeting, and for their club. She was the center of a great many things in the little village, and truly it seemed to herself that she could not well be spared. In fact, when she first read the letter she did not entertain the thought of going to New York for a moment. But gradually during her walk home from the post office her brother's words came to her: "Allison, Miss Rutherford told me that she was going
to ask you to visit her some tim
e. If she ever does, I hope you will go. It will do you and her both good. Go to please me, sister mine, if for nothing else."

Now, going to China is not quite like going to heaven, but Allison regarded her brother's request much as if he had
left this world for
ever, and when the memory of his request came to her she stopped suddenly in her walk and looked down a
t the letter in her hand in dis
may. When Maurice had said that she had hoped in her heart that Miss Rutherford only said it in kindness and had forgotten it by this time. Indeed, she had never expected to be invited.

She opened the letter again, and walking slowly read it through once more, almost stumbling over a root in the walk and causing Miss Rebecca
Bascomb
to wonder if she had a lover somewhere who wrote letters to her that she couldn't wait to get home to read.

It was a troubled face that she pr
esented to her mother a few min
utes thereafter as she threw the letter into Mrs. Grey's lap. The spirit of the writer had entered into her soul. She had read the real desire to have her in her second perusal, and stern duty was beginning to plead on both sides. It was not in Allison to want to go. New York meant to her the world of fashion. Her life had been sweet and guarded and hitherto somewhat narrowing in its tendency, in spite of the efforts at broadening that father, mother, and brother had tried to give. It was for this reason that Maurice Grey
had long ago told Evelyn Ruther
ford she could help Allison if she would. He longed to have his sister see the ways of doing, view the world from another standpoint, and draw her own conclusions.

The mother recognized this side of the question—which Allison would not admit in the matter at all—even before she noticed the real appeal in the letter.

Allison retired to the sofa in gloom. She did not want to go. She did not believe she ought to do so. She did not care to go among other people and see new sights. It was enough to stay in her dear home with father and mother and work for those all about her. Were not these many young people who recognized her leadership of more value than the one girl in the city who probably would tire of her in a few days?

She said something like this to her mother, who reminded her what the Lord said about leaving ninety and nine and going after one lost sheep. It may be that her son had given her some hint of the state of Evelyn's heart, or it may be
she
only guessed it from the letter and from her boy's very tender way of asking mother still to pray for her.

Poor Allison saw nothing but giants in the way whenever she thought of the proposed visit. There, for instance, was the inevitable question of clothes, which has troubled every woman since Eve made her apron. It was all well enough for Evelyn to talk about going off without getting ready. Perhaps she, who had quantities of clothes made by the best skilled tailors, could do that, but Allison well knew that her own new dark blue broadcloth made in
Hillcroft
would look
quite out of style put down in New York. Did she not remember her first sight of the gray broadcloth lined with turquoise silk? She had an eye for fit and finish even though she were not the possessor of it. It was not that her clothes were not plenty good enough for anything in
Hillcroft
. Indeed, Miss
Bascomb
had sometimes remarked that the
Greys
dressed their daughter entirely too well. It would foster vanity in her, she declared. She was dressed as well as any of the girls in Hill-croft, better than many; but, for inst
ance, take that same blue broad
cloth. It was made by the family d
ressmaker, the best the town af
forded, and she had cut the left side gore of the skirt upside down. Now everybody knows how quickly the nap of broadcloth will turn itself back if made up the wrong way of the cloth, and to Allison her dress was marred. The goods had all been used, and they had tried in vain to get more of the same. It had been bought some months before and it could not be matched. Miss Betts said she cut it "in the
ev'nin
'," and she didn't believe that it would "ever be noticed in the world." Allison knew that Evelyn would see it once. Moreover, the skirt was not the shape she had told Miss Betts to make it. Oh, it would be a
great trial to go on a mission to New York. She would much, much rather go to China. And there would be theatres and dancing and cards, and, perhaps,—who knew?—wine offered her to drink, and she would have to decline or seem rude, and to tell all her sacred reasons why, and then be laughed at. Why had Evelyn Rutherford ever come to
Hillcroft
, and why had Maurice ever said that about her going to New York?

They were all against her, even Miss Joan Rutherford, to whom Evelyn had bethought herself to write. She came over the next morning with shining eyes to say how glad she was that her dear Allison was going to visit in her brother's home, taking it for granted that of course she was going. She stayed only a few minutes and she slipped a tiny chamois bag into Allison's hand as she went out saying:

"There, dear, you'll be needing some spending money while you are away and I'd love to have you spend that for me on yourself. You're part my girl, you know,"

When Allison opened the bag she found five ten-dollar gold pieces
gleaming there. After that the going seemed inevitable. Not that Miss Rutherford alone could have turned the scale, but father and mother urged her strongly also.