Read Where Two Ways Met Online
Authors: Grace Livingston Hill
But this was no way to begin her life here. This wasn’t something she was doing just for Aunt Letitia. This was something that had to be done “as unto the Lord,” and that called for a gentle, quiet yielding to the rule desired. She must not despise her aunt for being particular, even if her own mother’s house was just as neat and dainty as a flower, and that without half the effort and no servants at all at present. Well, never mind. She was here, and while she stayed she would do her best, though her heart longed to be back home, doing her work in the church and Sunday school, looking after the poor and sick of the church, trying to help them all to a knowledge of the Lord Jesus.
So with a Christian smile on her face, she went on down the long list. Now and again she attempted to get her aunt to curtail her directions, pleading that she must be getting too tired, but the inexorable woman went right on, saying that it was good for her, that she could sleep better if it was all understood, just what she wanted done.
At last the ordeal was over, and June carried away her sheaf of notes and tried to smile, saying she hoped she would be able to be helpful in every way.
Then the aunt uttered a weary sigh and said she was quite sure all would be well “now that Junie was here.” “Of course,” she added, “
I
am always here, and you can come to me if you have any trouble with the servants or forget anything I have told you.”
At last June was free to wander about the house and yard and try to relax and get used to the idea that she was snatched away from the midst of a life she loved, in her home, doing Christian work in pleasant company, and dumped down in this strange town, among people she didn’t know and some she didn’t like. If her cousin were only at home it wouldn’t be so hard. But if she were, there would, of course, be no reason for June to be there. Well, she would get adjusted pretty soon, she supposed.
She wandered into the kitchen and got acquainted with Jane and Betsey, and after a brief talk with them, the orders she had received from Aunt Letitia didn’t seem nearly so formidable. She was sure she would have no trouble in getting along with the servants.
Jane was frying chicken, and it looked and smelled delicious. June found she was very hungry after her long train ride.
Then suddenly Aunt Letitia’s little silver bell sounded imperatively and, admonished by Jane with a quick grin and a frightened look in her eyes, June hurried in to see what was the matter.
“Was there something you wanted, Auntie?” she asked gently.
“Yes. It’s that awful smell of frying. Something is burning, I’m sure. Is it chicken she is frying?”
“Yes, it is, and it looks perfectly delicious. Are you getting hungry, Aunt Letitia?”
“
Hungry?
My patience no!” snapped the old aunt. “Not with
that
smell in the air. What on earth is she frying it in? Surely not that new vegetable shortening? It never smells like that.”
“Why no, she told me it was lard. She said she couldn’t get any more vegetable fat and had to take lard.”
“The very idea. Why I
never
have a drop of
lard
in my house. I haven’t had for years. You’ll have to go to the phone and call up and see if they won’t send up some vegetable shortening immediately. Jane knows I can’t eat things fried in lard. It gives me awful indigestion. Just call up Fresnoes. They’ll have the kind I always get. It’s the top number on the second row of grocers at the right of the phone.”
But when June called the number, they verified what Jane had said. There was no shortening to be had in town except lard, and very little of that.
“Well then, try Hardings. But this is ridiculous! I never knew Fresnoes to run out of staples. It’s most careless of them.”
So June tried Hardings, with the same result, except that they didn’t even have lard.
Down through the whole list of stores June went, but there was no vegetable shortening to be had, and the poor sick lady was in despair.
Then the nurse appeared on the scene.
“You are getting too tired,” she said to the patient. “The doctor would certainly object to this. I think you had better close your eyes and rest awhile before you eat your dinner.”
“Eat!”
snorted the old lady. “I don’t feel as if I could ever eat another mouthful as long as I live with that awful smell going through the house. And I can’t possibly eat chicken fried in
lard
.”
“Why can’t we
broil
a bit of chicken for you, Aunt Letitia?” suggested June. “I saw they were quite young chickens. They’ll be tender. I’ll slip out and tell Jane.”
“I never liked broiled chicken,” said the crotchety aunt, “and anyway, it would be tough as an owl, I’m sure.”
“You just wait,” said June with a smile. She hurried into the kitchen again and had a conference with Jane.
June was diplomatic and soon had Jane on her side, and they managed together a bit of tender broiled chicken fit for a queen. They prepared a pleasant-looking tray, which June ventured to carry in and present to her aunt.
“Well, it
looks
well enough,” vouchsafed the grouchy old lady,” but I don’t see how I can eat a bite with the odor of that awful lard in my lungs. However, I’ll try a bit, if you think it isn’t too tough.”
So at last June coaxed the old lady to eat a good supper of delicious broiled chicken and hot biscuits with honey. She finished it all, though she didn’t get as far as saying it was good. “Well, June, you’re a bright girl,” she admitted grudgingly. “I knew if you came I’d be all right. But just see that we don’t get out of vegetable shortening again.”
“Well, I don’t see how I’m to manage that, Aunt Letitia, if there isn’t any in any of the stores,” said June with a smile.
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll find some
somewhere
. If they don’t have it here, you can run into the city market and get it, I’m sure.”
When June finally got her own dinner, she was almost too tired and disheartened to eat it, but she did her best to be cheerful and bring a smile to her uncle’s troubled countenance.
When they came to say good night, he actually smiled and said, “You’re a good girl, Junie. They didn’t succeed in spoiling you in college at all. I’m glad you’ve come.”
And with that bit of praise, June went to a well-earned rest. But when the light was out and she lay on her pillow, she shed a few tears, partly of loneliness, partly of despair at the look of the immediate future, and partly because she was homesick.
And back in the hometown, Paige wasn’t having a very much better time, for he had listened till he was sure that the voice downstairs belonged to Reva Chalmers.
For a minute or two more he hoped against hope that the family didn’t know that he had come in, and therefore they would not call him. Then he heard that vivid clarion voice proclaim, from what sounded very much like the hall at the foot of the front stairs, “Why, yes, I’m sure he must be here. I saw him drive into your driveway just before I parked my car. He’s probably gone upstairs. Can’t you call him? Won’t you tell him I have a very important message from my father? If it’s too much of a climb for you, I’ll run up and tell him myself,” offered the girl.
“No,” said Paige’s long-suffering mother. “I’ll see if he’s here.” And he heard her tramping slowly up the stairs.
Paige sprang up from the bed and came out grinning.
“Okay, Mom,” he whispered as he passed her. And then he discovered his caller standing at the foot of the stairs, looking up.
“Yes?” he said, trying to smile but really frowning down at his pursuer. “Did you have a message for me?”
“I certainly
did
,” she said, running up three steps to meet him. “Dad sent this card of membership, University Club, you know. He said you wanted it right away and asked me to bring it to you tonight.”
“Oh, really? That was kind of you,” said Paige, trying to be courteous. “But let’s go downstairs. You don’t want to stand there on the step. But it wasn’t at all necessary for you to bring it tonight. I shall probably have no opportunity to use it at present, unless your father sends some customers to be fed. I could have just as well got it from him at the office. There was no hurry.”
“Oh yes, there was,” said Reva, slowly descending ahead of him and looking up into his face. “You’re going to have immediate opportunity to use it, because I’m asking you to take me to lunch there tomorrow. I have something very special to talk over with you.”
Paige looked at her hopelessly. Was this girl going to pursue him everywhere, and how far must he go in acceding to her requests? He gave her a troubled look and ran his hand over his forehead wearily.
“Why—I—am not sure—I can manage that tomorrow,” he said, trying to stall for time.
“Oh, you needn’t begin to make excuses,” said the girl eagerly, “because you’re
going
to take me. You see, I asked Dad if there was any reason why you couldn’t, and he said no, not that he knew of, and that it would be a very nice way to christen your membership card. So, we’re going, and I’ll come for you at your office at exactly twelve o’clock. That’s a date. And now, will you kindly come out and see what’s the matter with my car? I can’t get it started.”
“Why, certainly,” said Paige. “That is, if it’s nothing serious. I’m not exactly a mechanic. However, there’s a garage not far away, and I’m sure they can fix you up if I can’t.”
“Oh, a garage,” said the girl with a pout. “I don’t want a greasy old mechanic fussing with my car. I’m sure you can fix it. Dad says you’re very clever at everything.”
Paige made no answer. He merely opened the front door for her and helped her down the steps. Reva, however, chattered all the way out to the car.
“What seems to be the matter?” asked Paige as they arrived at the car.
“Why, I’m sure I don’t know. It was going all right on the way over, though I thought it was making a funny noise. I don’t know anything about machinery. But when I stopped and was about to get out, I saw I was pretty far away from the walk, and I put the key back in and fussed and fussed with it till I lost patience. I saw I couldn’t get it started by myself, so I just left the key in it and came on in. I do hope you’ll be able to fix it. I just hate to deal with strange men from a filling station.”
Without answering, Paige swung into the driver’s seat and snapped on the lights.
“Poor shabby old car,” sighed Reva, in the tone that expects prompt denial. “Of course, I’ve abused it horribly. I do hope it’s not entirely out of commission, for if it is, I know Dad won’t get me another for ages. He said that when he got this one.”
Paige was working with the key, trying to turn it, rattling it gently. Then he pulled it out and examined it carefully, looked at the other keys on the ring, chose another and slid it in, turned the ignition, and the car responded promptly, with expensive tones of eagerness, as if it, too, recognized the trick that had been played.
“Why, you’ve
done it
!” exclaimed the girl. “I simply knew you could. What was the matter with it?”
“You were trying to use the wrong key,” said the young man, with a courteous grin in the dark.
“Was I? Oh, can you imagine it? Dad says I ought to have a nurse, and I believe he’s right.”
“It could be,” said Paige under his breath as he swung out of the car and stepped back for her to take the driver’s seat.
“Well, I certainly thank you a lot,” said Reva with satisfaction. “And now you’ll get in and take a little ride with me, won’t you, just to show you’ve forgiven me for bothering you?”
“Sorry,” said Paige, stepping back up the curb of the sidewalk. “I have some important letters to write that need to get into the morning mail. I don’t think you’ll have any further trouble with your car. And thanks for bringing me the message from your father. Good night!”
Making a wry face in the darkness, Reva stepped on the gas and swung off with a flourish, soon out of sight down the road, her taillights twinkling wickedly at Paige. He gave an understanding little laugh like an answer to the wink of the lights, and hurried into the house.
He grinned at his mother as he went through the hall.
“Some caller!” he said with a wink.
“Oh, Paige! And you have to take her to lunch! Did you
have
to do that?”
“Well, I didn’t see how I could get out of it, Mother. Her father has just had me voted into the University Club and sent me down the card. It’s only fair that I take his daughter to lunch there once.”
“Once?”
said his mother with a sigh. “Oh, Paige, she’s not your kind of girl.”
“Of course not, Mom. I don’t have to be told that. Don’t you worry. But don’t I have to be polite, especially since her father gives me a job?”
“Why, of course, I suppose you do, Paige, but I do wish she were a different kind of a girl. Perhaps you can help her to be.”
“Not much chance of that, Moms. I’m sure you can see that.”
“Well, not very hopeful material to work on,” sighed the mother. “Still, people do change.”
“Mebbe,” said the young man, and then he stopped and kissed his mother. “Good night. I want to write a letter. Did you get that address for me, Moms?”
“Oh, yes, here it is,” said his mother, brightening and producing a neatly folded paper.
So Paige went up to his room to write his letter to June.
I
t was with a sense of deep peace and contentment that Paige read over the cherished letter that he had worn in his pocket ever since its receipt. And if his mother had been able to see the smile in his eyes as they lingered on those hastily penned words, she would not have sighed so deeply, nor lain awake anxiously praying quite so long.
Paige got up soon and went to his desk. There was a sweet thoughtfulness on his face, and one might almost have fancied that he was sitting opposite June, looking into her eyes as he wrote rapidly.
Dear June:
I have been having a wonderful experience, and all the way home I had been planning to tell you about it. And then when I reached home I found only a bit of a note with the news that you were away indefinitely
.
I confess I was somewhat stunned. I was sort of counting on the talk we had promised each other. But then all this mix-up occurred that sent us wildly off in different directions
.
Probably it didn’t matter so much to you, but to me it was very upsetting, for I really was in need of advice and help along the lines in which we had been talking, and I was in haste to get home and have that talk
.
Well, it seems that God knew my need and sent me a strange kind of help, of which your little poem (for which I sincerely thank you) was a part. But I am getting ahead of my story
.
I would so much rather tell you this by word of mouth instead of writing it, but I feel the need of telling someone, and I feel that you will understand, as we had talked of these things
.
You see, I was sent out to foreclose some mortgages, and I hated the very thought of it
.