"I must hurry," she said, "I have things to do this morning. And, Mrs. Beck, that stove still smokes. Did you do anything about it yet?"
"Well, no," said Mrs. Beck, "I hadta go out last night, but I'll see to it right away this morning."
But Dale had got only halfway up the stairs before she heard the telephone ring in Mrs. Beck's part of the house, and just a moment later came Mrs. Beck's voice calling:
"Miss Hathaway, oh, Miss Hathaway! Somebody wants ya on the phone! I think he's in a hurry!"
Breathless, Dale turned and sped downstairs. What could that mean? Who could possibly be calling her? There wasn't anyone in the city who would be likely to call her, and no one in her old home that knew where she was! It was very strange. It was almost as if God Himself was calling her in answer to her queer little prayer of the night before. Her hand trembled as she took up the receiver, and her voice was shaky as she answered: "Yes?"
The telephone was in the middle room. Mrs. Beck was lingering close to the kitchen door, her ear to the crack, listening, and "gramma" was in the front room with her ear to the crack, and one eye also. They had taken the precaution to open the door half an inch before Dale got down there, and they were pretty well versed in translating the rumble of the phone into real words when their roomers were called to the telephone.
"This is John Ward, teller in the First National Bank," said the voice on the wire.
"Yes, Mr. Ward?" said Dale, and guarded the sudden enthusiasm in her voice so that it sounded almost matter-of-fact.
"Well, if you aren't satisfied yet I think I have heard of something you might like. Are you going to be down this way this morning?"
"Yes, Mr. Ward, I am."
"Could you make it about eleven?"
"Yes, Mr. Ward, I'll be there. It's very kind of you to let me know."
"That's all right, Miss Hathaway. I hope it proves to be what you want."
The soft click announced the end of the conversation, and the two listeners turned away disappointed.
Mrs. Beck was on hand in the hall as Dale hurried away.
"Thank you, Mrs. Beck," she said as she fairly flew up the stairs.
"Oh, that's all right," said Mrs. Beck raising her voice to suit the tempo of Dale's footsteps. "I hope it wasn't any unpleasant message?" she added hopefully.
"Oh, no, just a matter of business," said Dale, and closed her door on the disappointed voice.
Five minutes later Dale hurried downstairs and out the door, and both Beck ladies hurried to the front room windows and took account of her apparel.
"She's got on another dress and hat," said Mrs. Beck. "It isn't the one she wore when she came here."
"Oh, yes, it is," said the old grandmother. "You can't fool me. I don't suppose she's got more than one hat anyway. She didn't show any hat boxes or any signs of another hat when she come. I was watching behind the curtain and I know."
"Well, anyhow, she's all spruced up. She looks ta me as if she's going out fer a new job. I hope she gets it. She's a right nice looker. I shouldn't liketa havta turn her away, not as hard as jobs is ta find taday."
"Well, you can't afford to keep folks that don't pay, Molly."
"No, I know I can't," sighed the woman. "But she is right nice lookin'. Seems like she was what they call sophisticated, an' that allus gives tone to a house. It brings a good class of roomers."
"Yes," said the old lady in a tone that could whine as easily as not on the very slightest provocation.
Dale walked briskly into the sunshine of the morning and recalled the tone of the teller's voice as he spoke to her. He hadn't said much, but somehow it cheered her. And a sudden thought came to her. Was it possible that God had done this? Was He trying to show her that He really cared? Oh, if this should turn out to be something good she would always be sure that God had heard and God really cared, and that He had spoken to her through this. But she mustn't think too much about it yet. It might turn out to be something impossible.
So she entered the back with a gentle poise about her that made a nice impression on the businessman who stood at one side waiting for her.
It wasn't a permanent job. The man wanted someone to fill the place of his own private secretary who had been taken ill and must go away for a rest for an indefinite time, several weeks, or even months. He could not tell how long he would need her. But he would be glad to recommend her afterward to someone else if she had done her work well. It was on the whole a better thing that she could have hoped for. The pay was not large, but it was enough to meet her expenses, and perhaps she could save a little if she tried. And she might begin at once!
She went to her new job walking as if on winged feet.
The work was not difficult because of her experience in the Baker office, and moreover this new job was better organized. The office and filing cabinets and other arrangements were much more complete and convenient. She sat down to her work with great relief and joy, and now and again it would come to her that God really cared.
Late in the afternoon Mr. Ward, the teller from the bank, called on the telephone asking her to stop at the bank on her way home and get a letter that had been sent in the care of the bank.
Wondering greatly, Dale went around by way of the bank and found Mr. Ward waiting for her at the door to hand her the letter. She stopped in the little park to read it.
It was from a firm of lawyers in the far west, and it appeared that a half brother of Dale's father who had died a few years ago had at the time of her birth put a small sum of money at interest in her name, and from time to time had added small sums. It was to be handed over to her when she came of age. They knew that her twenty-first birthday would occur very soon, and they were anxious to get in touch with her now that they might put it in her charge as soon as the day came. Her old home address of course had not reached her, and when they wrote to the Baker address their letter had been returned.
This was the first realization Dale had that she was practically isolated in the world, with not even any old acquaintances knowing her address. She must write to the old hometown post office and give them her present address, that is, as soon as she was sure she was going to stay here.
The lawyers had had no little trouble in discovering what had become of her, until they had been able to find out what bank the Bakers had dealt with, and so now they were asking Dale to send them identification papers from someone in that bank who knew her.
Breathlessly she gathered up her papers. Why, here was another answer to her prayers of the night before! Money! Of course, it might not be much, but she had not asked for much. But if this half uncle had only put in ten dollars every year, it would be over a hundred dollars now, with the interest, and that would be wonderful. If she had even that much to fall back on, it would ease her mind greatly.
But more wonderful than the material good was the assurance in her soul that God had really heard her sorrowful weary plea and that He did care. With that belief an established fact she could go forward and trust.
Or would the job have come anyway whether she prayed or not? As if her little prayer could have brought the job! Or the letter about a little money! That was what reason clamored into her ears as she started down the street to her rooming house.
But no, there was a new understanding between her heart and God now. Perhaps God had indeed been meaning to do these things for her, even before she prayed, but by answering her definitely this way He had established a contact with her soul to make her sure that He was thinking of her! That was it. Maybe He really wanted her fellowship, really cared what an unknown, unloved young girl felt about Him! Oh, that was a wonderful idea! God caring about her, wanting to be her Friend!
And now, there was only one other thing she had asked for, a friend! Just someone to speak to, and smile to across the hard days. But, maybe that would come later!
As she passed a fruit store she remembered that she would soon be almost out of oranges, and there were some lovely ones that seemed
to be cheap. She would celebrate by getting a whole dozen. She had to work hard now, and must be well fed to keep herself in good condition to do her best.
So she bought her oranges and started on, a happy smile on her face. Life wasn't going to be so terrible after all if God was caring, and little nice things could happen to her.
But the oranges were heavy and the package was awkward to carry. The bag seemed to be made of very flimsy paper. Twice the package almost slipped from her arms, and she had to walk steadily to keep the oranges from brimming over the top and careening along the sidewalk. Well, it was only a half block more! She would soon be there!
She eased one weary arm as she reached the steps, and the top edge of the bag ripped down five inches. Oh! She paused and tried to readjust the package. Someone was coming out of the house, but she could not look up. She had to walk very carefully lest that bag would give way and send her oranges all abroad. Then suddenly like a petulant child who wasn't getting its own way the bag tore relentlessly in three or four places and ripped halfway down one side. The oranges went catapulting out, bouncing on the steps and everywhere; one rolled out and down across the sidewalk to the gutter!
In horror she clutched the rest of them in one arm and tried to reach for a couple that were on the step just before her, for that someone, whoever it was, was coming down the steps. A man. She must clear them out of his way!
But then the rest of the oranges like naughty children who had got the upper hand, leaped out and went abroad in every direction, and Dale was left clutching a limp empty paper bag and looking foolishly up at the young man above her.
It was the young man who occupied the third-story front, the one Mrs. Beck had called George Rand, and he had a nice grin on his face. His eyes were kind.
"Hold everything!" he cried, and stooping over began to pick up oranges and stow them in the newspaper he had been carrying under his arm, spreading it handily on the second step.
"Oh! Thank you!" said Dale breathlessly. "But please don't trouble. It was my awkwardness."
"Oh, no!" said the young man with more grin. "It was the thinness of the paper bag. Too bad! I'm afraid some of these will need a bath after this." And he turned and picked two out of the gutter.
She reached to take them from him, but he evaded her.
"Oh, no," he said pleasantly. "I'm carrying them up for you. You can't be trusted with them, they're too wet and dirty. Besides they are full of mischief and will run away at the slightest provocation. Lead the way, will you?"
"Oh, that's very kind of you," said Dale, "but really that's not necessary. Just lend me your newspaper till I dump them in my room and I'll bring it right down to you."
"Don't worry about the paper," he said. "I was through with it anyway. But I'm carrying these oranges home, see? I claim it as my right."
He held the door open for her, smiling, with a determined expression on his pleasant lips, and there was nothing for her to do but walk in.
She made a decided stand on the top landing, but he only stepped up beside her, slipped one hand under her elbow to help her, and her pale cheeks flushed rosily.
Downstairs she was suddenly aware of the front room door opening a crack, and a watching eye applied to the crack, so she hastened her steps and arrived a bit breathless at her own door, making as if to take the oranges, but he still held them.
"Open your door," he said. "They'll go all abroad again if you don't."
She was glad to remember that she had left everything in perfect order. But he wasn't looking at the room. He stooped and laid the paper of oranges down on the little table beside her pile of paper and envelopes, and then backing out he lifted his hat, smiled again, and said:
"I guess they can't get away again now, but mind you wash them before you eat them! I wouldn't trust the germs around this street!"
And then he was gone, evading utterly the eager thanks with which her voice endeavored to follow him.
A moment later she heard slow footsteps coming determinedly up the stairs. Mrs. Beck was on her way to inspection.
Dale hurriedly slipped the paper, oranges and all, under the curtain of her wardrobe corner and was washing her hands composedly when the tap came at her door. She waited to wipe her face and hands before she went to open it, and to give just a brush to her soft hair, trying to gather her composure. How terrible it was going to be to have an espionage like this over her!
"Yes?" she said pleasantly as she opened the door partway. "Did you want something, Mrs. Beck? I was just freshening up a little after my day in town."
But Mrs. Beck did not take the hint that Dale was not anxious to receive callers just then, and her glance was searching hurriedly through the room as she stood firmly waiting to be invited in.
A kind of cunning came into the hard eyes as she faced her young roomer.
"Oh, I won't hinder you. I'll just sit down and talk a little while you dress. How d'you make out?"
Mrs. Beck took firm hold of the door and opened it enough to admit her skinny frame, entered and sat down on the nearest chair, her eyes searching every corner of the room again to find out where the oranges were that had required the assistance of the third-story-front unapproachable young man.
"Make out?" said Dale sinking wearily into the other chair, but she made no move to go on with her dressing. "Make out with what, Mrs. Beck?"
"Why, get on with the man you went to meet? The man that telephoned you?"
"Oh," smiled Dale, "that was only a business appointment." She spoke lightly. "Thank you for calling me. I'm sorry you had the trouble."
The woman looked at her vexedly.
"Yes, but how'd ya make out?"
"Make out? Oh, I got there in time, thank you, and got the information I needed. It was all right."
"Oh, was that all!" said Mrs. Beck disappointedly. "I thought perhaps you had found a good job. A good paying job, ya know. That's what I'm always interested in. Ya know, I don't run this house for benevolence, and this is a good room. I can always find a tenant for this at more than you are payin' me."
"Well, now that's kind of you to take an interest in me, Mrs. Beck. But if at any time you find a tenant that you think would be a better prospect than I am, be sure you come right and tell me. I wouldn't want to stand in the way of your getting a good paying tenant who can give more than I can."
"Oh, I wasn't hintin' that I want ya to get out," said Mrs. Beck retracting her severe manner somewhat. "Of course, I haven't known ya very long, and I don't know so much about ya. I just wanted to make sure that ya are going to be able ta go along all right."
"Yes?" said Dale, with a flavor of the question "Oh, yeah?" in her tone. Then she smiled. "Of course, I know you have to look out for your roomers, Mrs. Beck. But don't worry about me. I'm all right for the present, and if there comes a time when I think I can't pay my rent I'll be sure to let you know in plenty of time. And thank you for the table. It's going to be quite convenient I know."
"Well, of course I like to do all I can for my roomers," said Mrs. Beck. "It was one that I always used in my own room, but I don't mind makin' a few sacrifices for folks that pays on time."
Dale considered this and decided to accept the sacrifice without any words about it, and the pause gave space for Mrs. Beck to come to the real point of her visit.
"Didn't I see Mr. Rand comin' back up the stairs with ya? I thought I'd find him up in his room, but I listened and he don't seem to be there."
"Oh, was that Mr. Rand? I didn't know," said Dale indifferently. "He was coming out just as I was coming in, and I was having a little trouble with some of my packages. The bag broke on some fruit I was carrying, and he very kindly helped me to gather it up, and insisted on carrying it the rest of the way up. But I think he went right down again. I didn't notice. I came into my room. It was very kind of him."
"Then you'd met him?"
"Met him? Oh, no. I didn't even know who he was. But he certainly was very polite."
"Well,
I've noticed you girls all have your clever tricks of gettin' acquainted," said Mrs. Beck with an unpleasant grin that sat unkindly upon her shrewd bony countenance.
An angry flash came into Dale's eyes, but she turned away and lifted her chin haughtily.
"There's going to be a gorgeous sunset," she said irreverently. "I'm wondering if that stove is going to be enough to keep this room comfortable when really cold weather begins."
Mrs. Beck bristled at once.
"Nobody's ever complained that this room wasn't comfortable, even in really zero weather," she said sharply.
"Oh, is that so? That sounds hopeful. I shouldn't wonder if we're due for some pretty cold weather the next few weeks. The sky tonight, though it's beautiful, looks almost threatening. I wouldn't be surprised to see snow before morning."
"Oh, no," said Mrs. Beck decidedly. "No snow this month. We always have such lovely falls in this region. Say, why don't ya go down and visit those girls along your hall? They was speakin' of you this mornin'. Lily said they was havin' a good game of cards down in the parlor, and she said they wouldn't feel bad if you wanted to get in on it. You can consider that an invitation. I know they'll be glad ta see ya."
"Well, thank you. That is kind of them, but, you see, I have some work that I must do tonight. And besides, I don't play cards. I'm afraid I wouldn't be very welcome even if they did invite me."
"Oh, they'd teach ya. They've taught several young men. I know ya'd have a good time. They always go out for a beer, or ice cream, or somethin' at the end. Dutch treat, ya know. They're an awful jolly lot, and I'm sure ya'd fit in with 'em real good if ya'd only come and try it."
"Well, I do appreciate their interest, Mrs. Beck, but I really haven't time for such things, and I'm sure you would find I didn't fit. You see, I'm a very busy person and can't take time for play very often. Not that kind of play. I have a great deal of reading I want to do, and I must get to sleep early. Please tell them thank you for me, and say I can't spare the time."
Partners Page 4