Katharine's Yesterday (5 page)

In the few words that she spoke when she bowed her head to open the meeting with prayer, she tried to forget that there was any one else present but herself and God, and she asked him to bless the meeting. The meeting did run itself, as the young committee-woman had told Katharine, and was a very earnest one. For her own part in it Katharine read the little poem which had grown so dear to her. She read it beautifully, putting her whole heart into it; and her brother, as he listened carefully to every word, noting with pride the distinct pronunciation and perfect expression, said to himself, “She means that. She feels every speck of it. She is different. I wonder what it all is, anyway.” Then there came into his heart just the fainted little bit of a desire to know the wonderful difference himself.

When the meeting was over, John waited quietly for her at the door. He reached his hand for her Bible, and walked beside her without speaking for some time, but with an air of quiet respect, and an elder brotherly care of her which was quiet new and pleasant. She could not speak first, her heart seemed so full. During the meeting a strange, earnest longing had come cover her for him. She wanted so much to have him know the love of Christ.

“That was a first-class meeting, Katharine,” he said at last, breaking the silence with an almost embarrassed tone. “None of them can go ahead of you on leading, I know. You can do most anything you try, anyway.”

Then the longings of the sister’s heart arose to her lips; “O John,” she said, her voice trembling with earnestness, “I don’t know how to lead meetings, nor do any of these things. They are all new work to me; but I mean to learn, and I do wish so much you would help me!”

It was John’s turn to be surprised now. He almost stopped short on the sidewalk with astonishment. “Me help!” he exclaimed. “What on earth could I do? I’m not
w
orth much. You’ve tole me so yourself hundreds of time.”

“Oh, I know it, John!” She said in a pained voice, the tears coming quickly to her eyes, “and I’m so sorry. It wasn’t true, and you could help me more than any other person.”

“How in the world can I help you? What is it you want me to do?” asked John, quite tenderly and anxiously. He was not used to being
asked by his sister for help,
or to seeing her in such a mood.

“Help me by trying to be a Christian with me. Won’t you?” she asked eagerly. “We could work together, and help each other then; and I do so want you to belong to Jesus. Will you, John?” She put her hand lovingly into her brother’s, and waited for his answer.

He closed his fingers about her hand with a warm, earnest pressure, and there was a manly expression on his face. He was very much touched. Perhaps his heart was all ready for the invitation, only no one had ever before given it. “What would I have to do?” he said at length, hesitatingly. Katharine had waited for his reply with her heart throbbing, and sending up eager, longing prayers to her Father in heaven to send his spirit to speak to this dear brother.

“I am afraid
I
do not know very well how to tell you.” She said, clasping his hand a little tighter in token of her great joy that his answer had not been “No.” “I’ve only just begun myself, you know. The first thing is to give yourself to Jesus Christ. Tell him you want to be forgiven for all the wrong you have done, and you will be his forever, and try to please him always. Then after that pray every day for help, and read the Bible, and try harder all the time to please him. I’m only just finding out myself how to do it, and I want you to help, you know. You won’t say no, will you? Oh, I need you so much!”

John hesitated, started to speak two or three times, then waited, and Katharine made several earnest pleas, always ending with her petition, “O John, won’t you do it?”

At last, just as they reached their own gate, he said in a low voice, so low it was almost a whisper, “I guess so. I’ll try.”

“O John, I’m so glad!” she said joyfully; and she reached up to her tall young brother and kissed him. He bore the kiss with much embarrassment, and yet was pleased that she should give it. Katharine had never shown him much that she loved him, and he felt very tenderly toward her tonight. It was pleasant to have his sister care whether he became a Christian or not, pleasant to have her want his help. They went in the house together quietly then; and the father and mother noticed the expression on their faces with wonder as they entered the room.

After that the brother and sister began to get acquainted with one another as they had never done before. They had many talks together about this new subject which was beginning to interest them. John was very shy whenever Katharine spoke about it, and yet he seemed pleased. He entered into the agreement with her at first more from a desire to please her; but little by little he grew to understand how much the promise he had made meant. Katharine watched over him constantly, guarding him from temptations as often as she could. She became wonderfully entertaining, so much so, that John began, to prefer to stay at home, instead of wandering off with “the fellows.” Gradually their religious talks grew longer, until it came about that every Sunday afternoon, as a matter of course, John drew up a large armchair in the library bay window, and settled himself on the sofa opposite, motioning Katharine to take the chair. Then the two would read and talk together, they were trying to study the Bible in such a way as would give them practical help in their daily living, but did not always now the best way to do it.

Thus the autumn slipped into the winter almost without their knowledge, and they grew daily more attached to one another, and more bound together in all their duties and enjoyments. Helping each other, they helped themselves.

Christmas came, and with it many beautiful remembrances from the summer friends. Katharine opened them in surprise, and almost sighted as she opened one small, thin package, neatly wrapped in white paper, and addressed in a bold, clear hand. Then she gave her undivided attention to the package, and to the letter accompanying it. The opened paper disclosed a small white-clad book with gold letters.
The Greatest Thing in the World
was the tile. On the flyleaf was written, “A Merry Christmas and Joyful New Year, from your friend, Frank Warner.” Katharine’s cheeks flushed and a pleased look came into her eyes as she turned to the letter. It read:

My dear Friend,

The accompanying little book has helped me very much, and I pass it on to you in
the hope that you will enjoy it as much as I have. It is Professor Drummond’s
address on that wonderful love chapter, 1 Cor. 13. You will notice that he asks all
who will to read that chapter every day for three months. I have begun to do so.
Will you join me in it for the first three months of the new year? And may the
greatest, the best thing in all the world be yours, is the wish of your friend,

Frank Warner

The next Sunday afternoon the new book was brought out and read; and not only the sister, but
t
he brother, joined the young man in reading that marvelous chapter every day. It opened up to them new thoughts. Assisted by Professor Drummond’s clear, helpful words, they studied Paul’s analysis of “love,” and tried to
measure their own lives by it,
and a
lt
er them so that they would fit the perfect pattern.

It was a lovely spring day. The sir was soft and caressing; the tender young leaves, which but the week before had first revealed their yellow-green edges, were dancing merrily, trying to shake the wrinkles out of their new spring dresses. The grass were made over new for the year, and was spangled with great bending daisies and saucy, nodding buttercups; and the clear blue sky looked down with just as pleased and surprised an air as it had used for all the other bright spring days of all the centuries gone before.

About the little village station the greenness and springiness crept, even up
to its very door. Down the track a few yards the great black drinking hose which the engines used stood grinning, now and then sending a large, bright drop down with a gleeful splash, which bounded into little sprinkles over the board below. The bright steel rails gleamed in the sunshine, and hummed a cheerful prelude for the train that was approaching.

Katharine and her brother came with rapid steps down the street to the station. There was an eager, expectant look on Katharine’s face that betokened some unusual pleasure. The house they had just left betokened it too. The windows were open, the summer curtains airing their freshness in the breeze. Little vases of spring blossoms
stood around on tiny stands; and everything seemed in summer holiday attire. And the curtains, as they blew; the rooms, in their quiet unclutteredness; the flowers – all seemed to say joyfully, “Cousin Hetty and the rest are coming today, and we are ready and glad.”

All but John. He had been dreading the summer. Katharine was beginning to be “so nice”; and now, of course, all their good times would be broken up. She would go off with the rest, and he would be left to himself. He did not blame her; but he sighed a little, and looked glum over the prospect. He had objected decidedly to accompanying Katharine to the station.

“They don’t know me much, and won’t want to see me; and I shall feel like a cat in a strange garret,” he had said.

But Katharine
had drawn her arm through his, and, looking up lovingly into his face, had answered, “I intend they shall know you ‘much,’ and if they care to see much of me, they would better want to see you too; for they will soon find out that I can’t get along without my brother.”

Of course John went after that, though he did not in the least wish to; but he thought if Katharine wanted him so
much he might as well gratify h
er.

The train proved to be seven minutes late; and as they stood on the platform waiting, Katharine looked off at the purple hills, which seemed to have planted themselves at the end of the track, and thought of that other day when she had looked gloomily forward at the winter, just passed. How bright it seemed to her now!
What a difference there was in her life! It was no longer made up of much dull work, with only the little play spell of summer thrown in at long intervals, but was bright and happy all the way through. The coming of her summer friends she looked at in a different light now. It was indeed a delight to think of seeing and being with them once more; but it was, after all, but a pleasant incident, and not at all the one end and aim of existence, as heretofore. She looked at her brother proudly, comparing him with what he used to be, and wondering if the rest of the young people would see and appreciate him as she did herself. But the shriek of the whistle interrupted her meditations.

After that there was a merry bustle, a thumping of trunks, a babble of happy voices, and general confusion. John took the checks, and kept himself usefully in the background; but his sister brought him proudly forward as soon as possible. All the way home Katharine surprised the travellers by constantly appealing to John on questions connected with the church work.

“I didn’t know there was so much in John Bowman,” said one of the girls in an undertone to her companion.

“I think he must have changed a good deal,” was the murmured reply.

Notwithstanding, this same young woman was disappointed that afternoon when the girls, being eager for a first game of tennis, begged Katharine to bring her racket and help make up the set, and she replied, “I shall be busy for a little while this afternoon, but John will take my place.”

There was nothing to be done but gracefully accept the situation and begin the game. She felt sure John Bowman could not play, and did not enjoy the prospect of being his partner. She changed her mind, however, before an hour had passed, and voted him a “splendid player, really quite scientific, besides being very pleasant company.” Gradually they all came to accept him and enjoy him as Katharine had intended they should.

But over his sister they were much puzzled. The Katharine of last summer was not wont to be occupied with anything that took her from their company, unless earnestly solicited by her mother to come and help her. This Katharine was busy from morning till night, and happy through it all. When she was with them, she was, as always, the life of the company; but she went from them to some duty with a complacent face, as though she really liked to go. Then she not only attended and enjoyed the prayer meetings of the church, but seemed to expect them to do so also.

When the little, leather-bound diary was brought out and read, the girls found the records very different from those they had expected. There were, indeed, many
bright and original sentences, and there were whole pages of descriptions – beautiful, tender, witty, and unusual. There was a something left out, however, especially in the later entries, which had given the former Katharine’s speeches much fascination, but could hardly be called quite charitable. Katharine was learning the old laws of love, and putting it into practice. There were so many sympathetic, thoughtful touches in the small book, that they filled the place of the sharp sarcasms which were not present.

Cousin Hetty smiled to herself as she watched Katharine, filled almost with wonder to see how the soul in her had grown.

“She is indeed a child of the King,” she wrote to her mother; “she shows it in every word and action, and John is not far behind her. Not that she is so very ‘good,’ as people say, or that she has attained to any perfection, but she seems to recognize Jesus Christ as the Leader of her life, the One first to be pleased always.”