The Prodigal Girl (38 page)

“And now,” said David as he turned away from the telephone to face Chester who had been sitting near, “I guess there isn’t anything to do but pray about it for a while. I’ll just ask guidance. And when he’s able to see me I’ll run down to New York and try to get a heart-to-heart talk with him. I shouldn’t think there was any obligation upon you to do anything just now either, Mr. Thornton. Your daughter is too ill for you to have time or thought for anything else. The lad is evidently being cared for and in need of nothing that we can do at present. Besides, you’re not supposed to know what has happened. I should think you might well afford to wait until your daughter is able to tell you more about the situation. I’ll keep you informed of what I may discover. And the way will open up. It always does, when we put the problems in His hands.”

“I’m afraid I’ve never got in the habit of that,” said Chester humbly. “It’s going to be hard to have any sympathy whatever with such a young viper as that boy is.”

At the doctor’s request David Dunham stayed at the farm until Betty had passed the crisis and was decidedly on the way to improvement. He said that he did not care to risk having David away if she should suddenly ask for him, that he had been more valuable than any medicine. So David stayed, although it meant hard work when he got back to make up for the lost time.

But Betty did not ask for him again. She did not even seem to remember anything about what had passed between them when she finally woke up one morning with a weak smile and looked intelligently into her mother’s face. She was almost like a baby for a few days, only able to smile a little and lift her hand a few inches to sign what she wanted. She seemed too weak and tired for words, a frail, sweet shadow of the Betty that had been. She crept slowly, hesitantly back to life again. And after a few days, when it was a thoroughly established fact that she was going to get well, David Dunham went back to his studies.

On his way he stopped over in New York and sought out the hospital. Somehow he managed to meet with Dudley Weston. Under guidance of the Lord, with Spirit-given tact and preparation on his knees, the young man waited until a favorable opportunity presented itself, with the elder Westons both away for the afternoon. In fact, it developed that they were not especially devoted to wasting much time in whiling away the weary hours of their only son while he stayed in the hospital.

It was like David Dunham to hunt around until he found an old schoolmate who had gone into medicine and was serving an apprenticeship in the very hospital where Dudley had been taken. Having reestablished his old friendship with the young intern by a few minutes’ talk, and well knowing that an intern has no time for company, he said he would just stroll through the halls and wait around till his friend had some time off and they could go out together for lunch. There was a lad up in the private ward to whom he was taking a message. No, he wasn’t a personal friend, in fact wasn’t known to the young man, but he had a reason for wanting to meet him. Was there any way he could be casually introduced? The name was Weston, Dudley Weston.

The doctor eyed him curiously.

“Sure,” he said. “I’ll take you up. But you won’t like him. He’s not your kind, Dave! He’s the very devil!”

“So I have been told,” said David calmly.

They went up to the fourth floor, and the doctor knocked at Dudley Weston’s door and went in.

“Hello, Weston, how are you?” greeted the doctor with his best hospital manner. “I want to take your temperature, if you don’t mind.”

“Just had my temperature taken half an hour ago,” growled Dudley Weston, turning a frowning face and glaring at the door.

“Well, this is special,” said the doctor, reaching for his thermometer. “I want it for my report, see?”

David stood just outside the doorway, studying the lad.

Dudley Weston’s handsome countenance was still adorned with strips of plaster, and a cigarette was sticking out of one corner of his sensuous lips. The recent suffering through which he had passed had not sweetened either his temper or his expression.

“What the devil do you want to annoy me for?” said Dudley. “I should say, it was your business to get your figures from the nurses and not bother me again. Well, stick her in and get it over with.”

The doctor got out his thermometer, talking as cheerfully as if he had been received with the utmost courtesy.

“Having a tough time of it, aren’t you, Weston? I brought a friend along with me, thought he might amuse you a few minutes till I get off duty. He’s the best man on skis I know outside of the regular professionals.”

The frown that had been gathering like a quick storm on the boy’s face was held at bay.

“Skis?” he said with a quick ungracious look, which nevertheless gave permission to David to enter.

So David, with his ready smile and his quick charm got entrance to Dudley Weston’s room, and for half an hour sat and talked.

They spoke of several men who were noted in the various sports, and David knew them all, some of them being personal friends of whom he related little amusing incidents. Suddenly he turned to the invalid and said:

“I wonder if you know my best friend, the Lord Jesus Christ?”

Dudley Weston only stared, and his face grew hard and cynical.

“What are you?” he asked insolently. “A sky pilot? No real man would swallow that bunk!”

“I’m sorry,” David answered gravely. “It’s evident you don’t know Him or you wouldn’t talk that way. But there was a time when I didn’t know Him, either. I met Christ, and He forgave my sins and washed me in His blood, and taught me that the existence I had led before wasn’t really living at all. And I’ve found He is so wonderful that I want everybody I meet to know Him.”

Dudley regarded his visitor with a supercilious smile:

“I pass,” he said flippantly. “He’s not my type. I prefer to keep my sins. Better snap out of it. Life is too brisk to put on that sob stuff and talk tommyrot like that!”

David took out a card.

“Sorry,” he said pleasantly. “I’d like you to know Him. If you ever feel differently let me know. Here’s my address. I’ll be glad to introduce you.”

“Not here!” said Dudley with a shrug of his one good shoulder. “Not my speed! Have a drink, Dunham? I’ve got some of the real thing in that bureau drawer in a flask. Be glad to have you try a pull at it.”

“Thanks, no,” said David evenly, “I wouldn’t get a bit of kick out of it. That’s not my speed, you know.”

There was a twinkle in his eyes, but his mouth looked strong and firmly set. Dudley eyed him for an instant, half-inclined to think he was being laughed at, but then a diversion occurred.

There came a knock at the door, bold and assured, and without waiting for invitation two girls entered, showily and scantily attired. They wore heavy makeup and carried an atmosphere of scent—one would hardly call it perfume—that was as loud as their voices.

“Hello, Dud!” they called as they entered. “Got company? I thought you said you were all by yourself.”

“So I was, Peachy. This is a new importation. Shows what I’ve come to. Make you acquainted with the parson. He’s been trying to save my soul, but somehow it didn’t take. Dunham, meet Peachy and Pearl. Now here’s two girls that are just my speed. Sit down and have a little chat with us. Perhaps you’ll get a kick out of it. Peach, get the flask, you know where it is, and let’s have a regular time. Sit down, Parson! Get acquainted with the ladies!”

“Thank you,” said David gravely, looking them over without a flicker. “But I’m afraid they wouldn’t care for my line. I’ll be going now, but remember, my offer holds good to the end.”

He was gone; the three sending peals of laughter after him were not quite certain whether he had been kidding them or not. Had there or had there not been a twinkle in his eye as he said it?

“Whaddee mean, his line, Dud?” asked Peachy. “Whaddaya let him go for? He’s a good looker if he is a parson.”

“Well,” said David to himself as he walked down the street and drew a long breath. “That’s done—or—is it? The incident is closed, my promise is fulfilled, and if I’d done it on my own initiative I’d think I’d made a mighty bungle of it, but I’ve that promise, ‘Ye have not chosen me, but I have chosen you.’ I’ll just roll the burden of it on Him now. Perhaps in eternity I’ll know. But anyway, I had to go.”

A little later he added to himself, “The young woman was right. He certainly is a mess! Poor girl! How did she come to get mixed up with him?”

Chapter 28

B
etty crept slowly back to life, but there was something childlike and dependent, something sweet and new and yielding about her that the old Betty had not known. Eleanor felt as if she had her baby back again. Betty smiled when anything was done for her and showed almost none of the old impatience and irritation if she had to wait for something. And yet overall she seemed reserved and more mature, as if life had hit her hard and taught her something.

She talked very little and said nothing at all about her recent experience. They did not even know if she remembered it, or if it might not have been mercifully blotted out of her mind.

They rejoiced with trembling, however, and thanked God for her present gentleness. They were constantly fearful of possibilities in the future when Betty would be very well again. When Dudley Weston should be well, perhaps, too. What would be the next move? There would have to come a day in the near future, of course, when Betty must be questioned about her escapade. That is, provided she did not volunteer information. God grant there might not have to be any more terrible revelations!

So Betty came back from death’s door, and the day arrived at last when she was to be brought downstairs for the first time.

It had been Eleanor’s plan for her not to get up until after the midday meal, but Betty suddenly roused to interest and begged to be taken downstairs in the morning. This was rather a complication because the old minister, Dr. Dunham, was coming for the first lesson with the children. Eleanor had arranged to have them use the living room for a schoolroom, and the couch that Betty was to lie on was in that room.

“I’m afraid it will tire you, dear, the whole morning long and you having to listen.”

“No, it will not tire me, Mums,” said Betty, with more vigor than she had shown since she went away.

“If I get tired I’ll just shut my eyes and pretend I’m not there. I’m tired of being away off here. It’s time I got well!”

So they yielded to her urgency, and Chester carried her downstairs and settled her on the couch by the fireplace, somewhat apart from the little circle around the big table. There was a blackboard at the other end of the room, and on the table was a pile of beautiful new Bibles in soft leather bindings.

Dr. Dunham was already in the room and greeted Betty pleasantly but did not act as if she were a member of the class, and the room settled down to business.

“Now,” said the minister when Eleanor had tiptoed out of the room and Chester had retired into the library. “Friends, we’re going to try out a new kind of school, you and I. We’re going to study history, literature, biography, biology, geology, chronology, astronomy, theology, geography, philosophy, and a lot of other -ologies, with maybe a touch of mathematics here and there, but we’re going to study it all out of one Book.

“We may bring in other books occasionally as sidelights, but the whole study is to center around one Book. And if there is any difference of opinion between other books and other people and
our
Book,
it
is to be the criterion, because its Author is the only writer in the universe who can possibly know the
truth
about any of the subjects named! The reason that He is so well informed is that He is the originator of them all, and His name is God!

“I hope that as we go on with our study you will find that none of the subjects I have mentioned are really separate subjects but are merely classifications of one great theme, which together explain life.

“Now if you can bring to this study a belief in the Book that we are to take up, you will be able to enter deeper into the things of which it tells. But if not, you will only see the things that are on the surface. I do not mean an intellectual belief that comes from being convinced that the Book is logically true; I mean a
will
to accept every statement the Book gives. If you can do that you will have a key that will unlock a great many secret and beautiful treasures of knowing and wisdom that have been placed there for only those who believe. And if you can do that honestly, I can promise you that the proof of its truth will later be shown to you.

“I cannot do this for you. You will have to do it for yourselves. But you will be well repaid if you exercise this act of the will and come to your study believing the Book comes from God, and giving it opportunity to prove itself true. But even if you are unwilling to do this, the Book can show you many wonderful treasures and delights if you will give yourselves to a study of it. It is up to you, my friends, how much you get out of what we are about to do.”