The Seventh Hour

by Grace Livingston Hill

  Valerie hung up her coat on its special hanger that kept it in good lines, and put her hat away in a box whose lid had been arranged to drop from cloth hinges, keeping the hat from dust. Then she changed from her neat office garb to a bright little dress with blue flowers scattered over it, cornflowers that matched her eyes. It didn't take long, and it gave her office dress a rest and kept it fresh and serviceable for a longer time. Besides, she was going out to a meeting this evening. Then she sat down to her sewing.

  "Is that you, Vallie?" called her mother from across the hall. "You came in so quietly I wasn't sure."

  "Yes, I'm home. I came in quietly because I hoped you were taking a nap," said the girl pulling out a rocker that was her mother's favorite and drawing her into the room. "Sit down. You don't need to do anything just now, you know you don't. I smell dinner cooking, and can't I go down and finish?"

  "No," said her mother decidedly, "it's potpie tonight, and I always like to make that myself. But it isn't quite time yet. I'll sit down a few minutes. What's happened today at the office? Anything new?"

  "No, not much. Of course, there's extra work, ever since Mr. Maynard left. Mr. Burney does his best to keep everything going, but he isn't so young as he once was, and we really miss Mr. Maynard a lot. I worked most of my noon hour today. Mr. Burney had gone out or he wouldn't have stood for it. He doesn't believe in cutting lunch hours short. But I knew he would stay till midnight tonight if I didn't get those letters off, so I stayed. We certainly do miss Mr. Maynard a lot. He was a hustler."

  "But aren't they going to get anybody to take his place?"

  "Oh, I guess so, but Mr. Burney is hard to suit. I believe he just hates to hire anybody. He is sort of sentimental, but sentiment won't get work done. A friend of his telephoned yesterday from somewhere that he had a young man coming east who was something unusual and he thought he might fit in for a few weeks while he was here on family business, just till we got hold of the right man. I think Mr. Burney is quite counting on him, but he hasn't come yet, and he may not amount to much when he does."

  "There you go again, Valerie. Don't be so skeptical. Wait till you see the man. I certainly wish he'd come, or else you'd find somebody else right away. I don't like the idea of having you overwork."

  "Oh, I shan't overwork," laughed Valerie. "Don't you worry. Say, Mother, did Ranald come home for lunch? Had he had any word from his government examination yet?"

  "Yes, he passed," said his mother with a proud little ring of triumph in her voice. "Of course, he would, though, as hard as he works. He's just like your father when he gets started on something. He can't let it alone till he gets all there is out of it."

  "Not like you in that a bit, of course, Mother," laughed Valerie. "Seems to me you did just that little thing with housecleaning this spring, even though you knew you had two perfectly good daughters coming home early to help, and just needing the exercise."

  The mother laughed with conscious happiness.

  "Well, I didn't see having you use up your only leisure washing windows and rubbing furniture and ironing curtains."

  "No, you thought it would be better for us if you killed yourself off so we had to do it all," said Valerie. "Well, we'll fix you next time so you can't do that."

  There was a sudden banging of the front door, and a clamor of eager young voices.

  "There!" said the mother. "Turla and Leith have come. It's time for me to go down and mix up the dumplings."

  "But, are they just getting home from school? So late?"

  "Oh, no, they had a high school football game today."

  "Oh, yes, I forgot!" said the sister. "I wonder how it came out. Leith was playing, too, wasn't he? I must go down and ask. He'll never forgive me if I don't. His first game this season."

  "You won't need to go down," smiled the mother, "they are coming up here! There! There comes Kendall, too! He's finished his paper route so early. I must hurry!" And the mother hurried down the back stairs and went at her cooking. Then Turla and Leith, the twins, came pelting up the stairs eager to tell their sister about the game.

  "Valerie, what do you think! Leith made a touchdown! He did! Wasn't that simply great?" shouted Turla arriving breathless at Valerie's open door. "And his playing all through was swell! Wasn't that gorgeous for his first game?"

  "Indeed it was!" said Valerie, her eyes shining as she looked her joy toward the brother so tall and broad shouldered, with the rich color in his cheeks and the flaming red of his hair.

  They stood, the pair of them, and drank in her pleasure as if they could not take the whole of their glory until she had her share in it. It was what made that Shannon family so distinctive and different from the common run of people, their delight in one another, their unfailing interest each in the pursuits of the other.

  They stood for several minutes at her door telling her about what this one and that one and the other one had done, and the narrow escapes they had had in the different stages of the game, and Valerie entered into all they told and exclaimed and rejoiced with them.

  Then came Kendall trudging disappointedly up the stairs, rosy cheeked and weary, his hair standing every which way.

  "Well, how'dya come out? I heard ya won. Did ya get ta play? Thought I'd get there for the last half, but Rasky held me up. I had ta do part of his route 'cause he had tha toothache, worse luck!"

  "Too bad!" said Valerie sympathetically.

  And then they had to tell Kendall all over again about the game.

  "But where is Norah?" Valerie asked suddenly.

  "She went to the birthday party around at Emmy Lou Patten's. Malcolm's getting her on his way home," explained Kendall. "Mother phoned Malcolm. There they come now!"

  "Where's Grandma?" called Malcolm from the foot of the stairs. "Here's that yarn she wanted. Norah, you take it up to her!"

  So Norah came trudging up with the yarn, and Grandma came out of her room with her knitting.

  Turla was down in the kitchen helping Mother, and Norah with Valerie's help slipped out of her pretty little pink party dress, into her red home dress, and went down to set the table.

  The father came in soon after, and then Norah stepped out into the hall ringing the silver dinner bell. The whole family trooped down to the pleasant dining room and gathered around the long table, looking hungrily toward the great platter of lamb stew with its ample fringe and topping of dumplings. Then they all bowed their heads for the grace the father said.

  It was after the plates were all filled and passed and everybody was passing butter and bread and pickles and cranberry sauce and delicate little string beans, that Valerie began to tell of her day. They all took turns telling of what had happened to them, making all their experiences real family affairs.

  "I saw two very interesting-looking people this noon when I went for lunch," she said. "I'd like to know who they were. They were walking on the avenue together as if they were going somewhere with a purpose, but they were not talking together. They looked so much alike they must have been related, perhaps brother and sister, or even twins, though the man looked much more mature than the girl. But they both had the most gorgeous gold hair I ever saw, a sort of red-gold it was, and the same large brown eyes. Their features were very striking. If you had seen them I am sure you would recognize what I mean. I am sure they were strong characters, yet they were different. The girl looked utterly worldly, and the man had an expression that seemed almost heavenly, I mean as if he came from heaven. I never saw a contrast like that in faces that otherwise were so identical."

  "Sounds something like love at first sight," mocked young Leith with a twinkle in his Irish eyes.

  "Oh, Father!" said Valerie with a smile toward Leith. "Has anybody told you what our Leith did? Made a touchdown! His first game of the season, too. Wasn't that great? Aren't we proud of him?"

  "Now, Dad, Val is just trying to change the subject," grinned Leith.

  "Well, son, we certainly are proud of you," said the father with a light
in his eyes. "Tell me about it!" And then the talk drifted to football, and even Grandma got interested and asked what a touchdown was, and everybody forgot about Leith's charge that Valerie had fallen in love with a stranger at first sight.

  Suddenly Valerie looked at the clock and exclaimed: "It's getting late! I am going out and I must hurry! Get the Bible, Norah!"

  So little golden-haired Norah slipped down from her chair and went after the old Bible on the lower shelf of the serving table.

  The father took it and opening to a quaint old marker read the evening portion, with now and then a word of comment, perhaps for the benefit of the younger children. And then they all knelt in prayer.

  The cheerfu' supper done, wi' serous face,

  They round the ingle form a circle wide;

  The sire turns o'er, wi' patriarchal grace,

  The big ha' Bible, ance his father's pride;

  . . . . . . . . .

  Then kneeling down, to Heaven's Eternal King,

  The saint, the father, and the husband prays:

  . . . . . . . . .

  From scenes like these old Scotia's grandeur springs,

  That makes her loved at home, revered abroad.

  Chapter 6

  Dana awoke to find a bright light in the room, and Bruce Carbury standing over him.

  "Hello, fella, what's the matter? You sick?" There was real concern in Carbury's face and he reached out a cool hand and laid it on Dana's forehead.

  Dana blinked at him and then laughed.

  "No, I'm not sick, Bruce, just disgusted."

  "Was it as bad as that?"

  "Pretty bad."

  "Well, how about dinner? When did you have your lunch?"

  Dana looked perplexed for a minute, and then he laughed again.

  "Why, I guess I didn't. I went to sleep instead. That's so, I guess I'm hungry."

  "Well, make it snappy! Let's get going. I'm hungry as a bear myself. Come on, I've found a swell place to eat! And don't let's talk about anything till we've had a leisurely dinner. You know things won't look so bleak to you then."

  Dana was up at once. A dash of cold water in his face, the brush to his hair, and he was ready.

  "But I want to talk about you," he said as they went down the street together. "That won't depress you, will it? You didn't get turned down, did you?"

  "Why, no," said Bruce with a sudden lightening of his face, "I got the job, and it seems to be all that I could desire, so you don't need to worry about me. But good as it is, if things go wrong for you here in New York, old pal, I'm ready to throw it all up and go back to the old diggings with you. I'm not going to have you floating off by yourself."

  "Thanks a lot!" said Dana with one of his sudden bright smiles. "I appreciate that all right, but of course I wouldn't let you do that! You know it!"

  "But I mean it, Dana!"

  "Yes, I know you do, and so do I," said Dana earnestly. "But it isn't coming to that, anyway. At least I don't seem to feel I'm going back, not at present. I don't know just why, but I don't feel 'released' yet from the job I came on to perform, though I don't know why. At present there doesn't seem to be another thing I can do. I wonder if you know what I mean?"

  "Of course! I understand! Now, here's our place to eat. Let's pretend we're celebrating. I don't know just what, but we're celebrating, the way we used to do at college."

  "Sure!" said Dana with a grin. "Celebrating that you've got your job! Besides, I have to go see a man tomorrow or next day, so that will be at least another day with you."

  So they went cheerfully in to a good dinner, and talked about old times, and managed to put unpleasant things entirely out of thought while they were eating.

  "We'll take a snappy walk before we go back to the room," said Bruce as they came out into the street again, and Carbury walked his friend down to show him the region of his new job. It was a pleasant little interlude, and it rested Dana as well as Bruce. At last they came back to the room and settled down to talk.

  "Now," said Bruce, "tell me as much or as little as you want me to know. I don't need to know a thing if you'd rather not, you know."

  So Dana described his call on his family that morning. He described the room to which he was ushered, and the girl who was sitting there in gaudy pajamas smoking when he went in. He made the scene very vivid, and now and again he would pause as if the telling of it hurt him.

  Once Bruce gave him a sympathetic look and said gently: "Don't, Dana! This is hurting you. It isn't necessary for you to tell me these things. I can see how hard it must have been for you."

  But Dana shook his head.

  "No, I'd rather tell. I've got to. You are nearer to me than anybody else on earth today. I think you have a right to know. You may be able to give me some light on what I ought to do, if there is anything I can do. God sent you to me again just as I was starting on this expedition, and I can't help thinking there was some intention in it. If you're willing to be bothered with my troubles, you shall know them all as far as you will listen."

  "I'll gladly listen," said the other, his face grave with deep sympathy, "and I'll help all I can. You don't need me to tell you that your confidence will be sacred in my thoughts. And none of it shall pass my lips."

  "I can trust you, Bruce. I wouldn't be telling you if I couldn't."

  So Dana went on with the story, even down to the walk to the park and the conversation there. He let his friend see all the loveliness and the petulance of his sister. Bruce listened with kindling interest.

  "Is she happy, Dana?"

  "Happy?" said Dana looking up astonished. "How should I know? No, I don't really believe she is what I would call happy! But what difference would that make?"

  "It might make a great deal," said Bruce thoughtfully. "I can't think that she is really satisfied or she would not have said what she did at the end. She wouldn't have wanted to forget. I think you are wrong to feel so utterly hopeless, Dana."

  "Oh, I got the impression that she was merely made uncomfortable by thinking Father had suffered to give her what she had had. It did not seem to me she had any real repentance. She gave no evidence of that."

  "Not even the tears?"

  "Not even the tears," said Dana solemnly. "That is--well, some people cry easily. It may not have meant much."

  "Give her time, brother," said Bruce with a light of faith in his eyes. "Shall we pray about it?"

  They went down upon their knees together, as they had done at times in the past when they had some great common desire, and Bruce prayed most tenderly.

  "Oh Lord, You know these two better than we do. You know if in Your plan of the ages there is any way for these two to find and know Thee; to be saved, and come to know the joy of the Lord. And Lord, You know what the father of this family was, how he loved Thee, and how patiently and sweetly he suffered through the years, and how he must have prayed for them. Let not his prayers remain unanswered. You know Dana, too, who loves Thee and who longs that these two of his family shall come to be saved. So we come together to Thee tonight, bringing that promise that where two of us shall agree as touching anything that they shall ask it shall be done. So we ask, if it be Thy will, that Thou wilt send Thy Holy Spirit to draw them, and that Thou wilt hear our prayer for them. We ask Thee especially for that little girl who hasn't ever had the opportunity that her brother has had to know Thee. We claim her from Satan's power on the ground of the shed blood of Thy Son, our Savior, on the ground of His victory over Satan. We ask it for Jesus' sake. Amen!"

  Then after a pause, hesitantly, slowly, Dana prayed, more especially for his mother.

  At the close the two rose in silence and Dana walked over to the window, wiping his eyes, and stood there for some time staring out across the lights of the city. Then he turned at last and looked at his friend.

  "Thanks, Bruce," he said in a husky voice. "That's helped a lot. I guess the way will grow clearer, and I don't believe I'm meant to leave just yet, anyway. If for nothing else, I'd st
ay just to have this fellowship in prayer with you."

  "Well, brother, I'm learning day by day that our God is a great God. There is nothing He cannot do, if it is His will."

  The next day Dana spent in going about the city, seeing places and things he had always known about and wanted to see. He did not go yet to the publishing house to which his home firm had sent him. He wanted to be a little more clear in his mind about how long he was going to stay in New York before he called there.

  So he went to the museum, and the great public library, and to Grant's tomb, and the aquarium, and finished up by strolling past a few famous publishing houses, idly studying their display windows. But when he went back to the room at last because this lonely sightseeing had wearied him beyond measure and his soul was struggling with longing for the father who had gone, who would have been so interested to hear all about what he had seen, he found his friend had come back ahead of him.

  "I've had a swell day," he reported. "The boss is grand and I'm going to like my work a lot. It only lacks one thing and that is to have you fixed comfortably somewhere. But say, who do you suppose I saw today, right on Broadway? Kirk Shannon! Do you remember him? He came down to college with the Robertson boys several times. He was up near Chicago somewhere going to college. Don't tell me you don't remember him?"