Time of the Singing of Birds

by Grace Livingston Hill

  Hortense was speechless with rage.

  But finally the time came for the program, and Hortense tried to take over. She got up on the platform and patted her sparkling white hands with their many bright rings and their sharp crimson nails. She shouted as loud as her inadequate voice could be forced into shouting.

  “Won’t you all please come to order!” Then she patted her hands again and fairly screamed at them. “Won’t you all please come to order?”

  Failing to get the attention of the noisy crowd, she began to talk in a cross between a scream and a whine, until someone noticed her standing there and said, “Ssh!” and it hissed all over the room. There followed a lull in conversation. Then Hortense plunged in and tried to recite the speech she had prepared, but she suddenly forgot her lines and stumbled and blundered around until the conversation began to buzz wildly around her again. Finally the young minister, who had preached the night before, got up beside her, and with a voice that boomed out like a lovely trumpet, he said, “Friends, one of the committee is trying to call you to order and make an announcement.”

  There was instant silence, and he turned to Hortense for further facts, but Hortense was not going to surrender her rights so easily, and she began again to recite her piece:

  “Friends, we have met tonight to honor one of our number who has been out to fight for us and has won great honors and come back to us with laurels on his brow. We have asked him to tell us about some of his great deeds, and how he won the purple heart and the silver star and some of the other decorations he is wearing. We have also asked him to sing for us. I am turning over the program to our old friend and fellow citizen Lieutenant Barney Vance. Lieutenant Vance.”

  Hortense’s voice lisped along like a little chirping bird, and what she said wasn’t heard over half the room at least, but when the end of the speech was reached, she made a sweeping bow toward Barney, and there was a tremendous cheer that shook the room until it seemed the roof would surely come down on them.

  Then Barney, with a running jump, ascended the platform informally, grinning.

  “Dear friends of my hometown,” he began, when the cheering had slowed down so he could be heard, “I do appreciate the welcome you have given me, and I do feel honored by your presence here. But as for the announcement about my speech, that was a mistake. I was asked to speak, yes, but I said no, until they told me I might sell war bonds. So, here goes. Who’ll buy the first bond and start the ball a-rolling? What I did overseas was my part of the war. You don’t need to know about that. Now, this is the home front, and we want to sell a lot of bonds tonight to do our part, here. Who takes the first bond? That you, Mr. Haskell? How many? Miss Haskell, will you get a pencil and paper and sit right down here by the platform and make a record. Cy, you’re from the bank; you take the money, and let’s do this thing in an orderly way. Come, get to work, good people. Who’s next? Ezekiel Summers, did I see your hand? One or two? Put him down for two, Amelia.”

  The room grew very still listening to Barney Vance selling war bonds, and then it grew very enthusiastic as the sale went on and the sum of the bonds mounted up. They were really doing something big in Farmdale. They were really doing something big, weren’t they? Something great for the war. And it was going over without the least assistance from Hortense, or without her being even recognized in connection with it. She was too vexed to take the frown off her brow and try to let on that she had done it all.

  When the buying had reached the limit—a sum higher than any that had ever been subscribed in Farmdale before, for any cause—suddenly a prominent businessman went up on the platform and, looking straight at the handsome young soldier selling war bonds, called out, “Barney Vance, we were promised a song from you and we want to hear it now. My wife wasn’t out to church Sunday morning, but I told her all about that song you sang, the one about the Man on the throne of God offering His blood for the sins of us all, and I promised her if she could come tonight I’d ask you to sing it over again for her. Come on now, sing it, won’t you? This will be a good time. Won’t you sing it for my wife?”

  Barney’s face grew suddenly sober. He gave a quick look at the man, Mr. Harper, and then he glanced at the frowning Hortense, knowing that she wouldn’t like it. But Hortense stood haughtily silent, as if she had not heard, and Barney turned back to Mr. Harper.

  “Do you want that special song, or would you like another?”

  “I want that special song,” said the man. “I thought that was great.”

  “Very well,” said Barney, gravely. “Margaret, where are you? Can you play it without the music?”

  “Oh, yes,” she said and went and sat down at the piano.

  “The nerve of her!” whispered Hortense contemptuously.

  Margaret’s fingers touched the keys, quietly, almost reverently, and then Barney sang, with the instant attention a voice like his would always get:

  “I see a Man at God’s right hand,

  Upon the throne of God,

  And there in sevenfold light I see

  The sevenfold sprinkled blood.

  I look upon that glorious Man,

  On that blood-sprinkled throne;

  I know that He sits there for me,

  That glory is my own.”

  The room was very still now. The words were going straight into hearts more even than they had done in the church, and it seemed that they were being understood. And then in the back of the room where Hortense had taken refuge when he began to sing, there was a movement. Quick, flashing, angry eyes brimming with frightened tears, and Hortense made a dive for the dressing room and disappeared from view. She fastened the door, too, and no one saw the tears that pelted down over her makeup. Angry tears.

  It may have been that Barney saw her go, sensed how disappointed she was, and felt somehow he ought to make it up to her in some way. He had prayed a little for her, but somehow he didn’t seem to feel very genuine in his prayers. Too many years he had been growing in his distrust of her. Yet the Lord could forgive her and love her, even though she was so silly and superficial. And if that was so, he ought to be able to pray for her at least. Hadn’t he seen tears in her eyes? Maybe somehow a message had got across to her soul. The Lord was able to reach any soul.

  But Hortense was not weeping for her sins, she was weeping for herself and her own mortification in failing to get the admiration and acclaim from the whole community. She had wanted to show Barney what she could do, and to show those two upstarts of girls, and they had all simply been witnesses to her humiliation.

  But Barney had little further time for thought about the silly girl, for he was surrounded by the old inhabitants of the hometown, and he found that a reception could be a very pleasant affair when one knew the people well.

  Hortense did not remain in the dressing room long to weep. She heard Barney’s voice singing again and knew that the song he was singing had been requested. That was a relief. She got out her makeup and repaired the damage done to her face, and then she went loftily out to resume her duties as hostess and act exactly as if everybody knew that she had been responsible for this great social success. But she watched jealously the two girls who were so at home among these people, and the young man who was not giving her the attention that she felt he owed her now since she had given him this reception.

  But Barney was having a good time and stayed willingly beyond the hour he had set as the time for his little company to retire from the social scene and go home. And when finally the company really began to break up, Barney went smilingly up to Hortense, shook her hand cordially, and thanked her for the pleasant evening she had planned for him. At least Hortense felt that she had been treated with outward respect, now at the end, even though Barney did frustrate every part of the program she had planned. Well, at least he had come and done the courteous thing, and everybody had seen him do it. That somewhat salved her hurt feelings.

  Chapter 20

  It was the next morning that the telegram arriv
ed from the admiral.

  Roxy brought it up to him, reluctantly, because he had been up so late the night before and she thought he needed to sleep. But a telegram had always been an alarming thing to Roxy, so she finally decided it was her duty to let Barney be the judge.

  A telegram? Barney was instantly wide awake and all attention. Yes, it was from the admiral. He blinked at it and began to read:

  If still interested in proposition be ready to start, awaiting telegram to come at once. You would have to be in Washington for medical examination first, and then await orders. Let me know your plans immediately.

  Barney waited only a minute, and then he sprang from his bed and went to the telephone, called up Western Union, and sent his answer:

  Still eager to go. Will be ready when you call. Gratefully yours,

  Barney Vance.

  After he had hung up the telephone it came to him that this was going to make a radical change in his program of the days. And first, he had to tell Margaret.

  He knew that she was hoping against hope that her beloved would not have to go yet, on account of his health. He knew that she felt it was all wrong for him to have offered. If Stormy must be gone after, someone else surely ought to go, not Barney, who was himself just out of the hospital and not at all strong yet. And yet, she had been praying for Stormy’s return, and he knew she was ready to give him a smiling farewell if he felt he must go.

  Yes, he must tell Margaret now.

  No, he couldn’t tell her right away. She was in school. He couldn’t disturb her until noon. Of course, if he had to leave at once he wouldn’t stop on that, but he didn’t want a lot of curious children around when he told her. Of course, he could call her on the telephone, but that would be hard on her. She would have to go back to her classes. No, there was no hurry yet. He would go down to the schoolhouse and be there when she came out to her lunch. They could walk a few steps together. Yet why was he making such a perplexity of this, for Margaret knew he wanted to go? She understood. And in a way she would be glad that he was getting his wish. Yet he knew what a trial it was going to be for her. And for himself, too.

  He drew a deep quivering sigh as he hurried with his dressing. Would this mean a long separation? Going after Stormy might not be quick work. It might be a long, drawn-out affair. And when he found him, if he did, would it perhaps involve imprisonment or even death for himself? Yes, he had considered the possibility of that when he first said he would go, but then he hadn’t found Margaret yet. Now he had, and he saw that it was sorrow for her if that happened. He could well sacrifice himself for the man who had once saved his life, but to bring sorrow on his beloved was another matter. And yet he knew he could not back out, could not go back on his offer. Margaret knew about it, and Margaret would not have him stay safely here when duty and loyalty called. Yes, it was going to be hard, but he had to go! Yes, and be glad over it, too. He must not be sad. That was no way to sacrifice, to do it sadly. No, he must trust God to bring it all out right.

  But he went about his packing with a heavy heart. He had to own that it was not going to be easy to tell Margaret that he had practically received his summons. The admiral would not have sent that telegram if he hadn’t been pretty sure that he had been able to put this thing across, and Barney was almost trembling at the thought of the trust that was being put in him. It seemed almost audacious in him to have suggested that he was fit to go, and yet he had been so confident that he could find Stormy if he was allowed to try.

  Very humbly about it all he knelt down and talked to his Lord about it, and when he rose there was a new peace on his brow, also a certain assurance in his heart that Margaret would understand. It would be a sorrow they would have to bear together, but perhaps a special joy would come through that sorrow.

  So it was with a grave face that he went downstairs and sought out Roxy, who had been filled with quiet forebodings ever since that telegram came.

  “Well, Roxy,” he said as he entered the kitchen and saw the anxious face of his old nurse, “I guess I’m going to have my wish and be allowed to go after my lost friend.”

  “Oh, Mr. Barney! Now ain’t that awful! They would never be letting you go if they knew how white you were still looking. I’m a mind to go myself down to Washington and tell them, so I am.”

  Barney grinned. “No, Roxy, you mustn’t think of that. They would only laugh at you and think you were an old mollycoddler. Besides, if they let me go I’ll have to pass the doctor’s test, so don’t you worry. They won’t let me go if I’m not able. And now see here, Roxy, you can’t go around looking and acting like that. Don’t you know God is managing this thing, and it can’t go through unless He says so? We’ve done a lot of praying about this trip, and if I go I must go in the strength of the Lord, not my own strength. Besides, this isn’t any worse than my going to war the first time, is it? And I came back, didn’t I?”

  “Well, there just doesn’t seem any sense to it at all, you going through all that war and being so sick and then getting back home and having the temerity to go back again before you have to. It seems to me like tempting Providence.”

  “Oh, no, Roxy. It’s not like that. I’m going of my own free will to try and find and bring back my friend who saved my life when he was wounded himself. You don’t want me to be a coward, do you, Roxy?”

  He talked for some time to try and make her understand. All the time she was getting his breakfast and sitting around while he ate it, and then she was not more than half convinced that this was something his mother would have wanted him to do. Something that God wanted him to do or He would not have made it possible.

  “Well, you aren’t gone yet,” she said at last. “Maybe God’ll stop it yet somehow. I think we need a bit more praying.”

  “Now, Roxy,” charged Barney, with a grin. “You wouldn’t go and pray against me, would you?”

  “No, not against you,” said Roxy, with a grim set of her lips. “I’ll just pray that God will see to it that you behave till you get strong enough to go out saving people again.”

  Barney laughed and then went upstairs to put last things in his suitcase. If he should be called to go suddenly he must be ready. The admiral had asked that he do that. And it was getting almost time to go and meet Margaret. He mustn’t miss that, and he would feel easier in his mind if the suitcase was ready to go whenever he left the house for a few minutes.

  So he packed his things, for he had thought it all out in the night just what things would have to go to make him ready for any contingency he might have to meet. Then he went downstairs and smelled the cinnamon buns that Roxy was baking.

  “Give me a couple, Roxy,” he begged. “I’m going to meet Sunny at her lunch hour, and I thought if we had a couple of those nice hot cinnamon buns we could stay out a little longer, and she wouldn’t have to go to the lunchroom.”

  “Why, of course,” said Roxy, brightening. “Here! I’ll fix them in a little box for you.”

  In no time she whisked four lovely candied buns, rich with raisins, into a box, with plenty of paper napkins to wipe off the stickiness afterward.

  Barney took the box and started away, trying to plan just how he would break the news to Margaret.

  And then he didn’t have to break it at all. Margaret understood at once. It seemed almost uncanny. She saw him as she came down the steps of the schoolhouse, and her eyes got wide with trouble.

  “It’s come,” she said breathlessly as she hurried to his side. “Hasn’t it? Your summons has come, and they are going to let you go. Isn’t that right? Please tell me quick and get it over with.”

  “You dear child!” was all Barney said, looking down at her with deep compassion in his eyes. “Perhaps I ought not to have suggested it. I didn’t want you to have to suffer.”

  “No, it’s all right, Barney! Truly it is! I want it to be God’s way, of course. But I’ve just been expecting this all day, and when I saw you walking along with your shoulders over and your head bent I knew it mu
st have come, and that you were realizing what it is going to be to us. But we’re not the only people who have to suffer for this awful war, and of course we’ll be brave and keep on praying.”

  “You dear child!” said Barney again, feeling sharp tears stinging into his eyes.

  “Well, there!” said Margaret, giving a quick rub across her eyes. “That’s over. Now tell me about it. What did they say? Were they pleased or not?”

  “Here is the telegram,” said Barney in a husky voice.

  The stopped on the walk while Margaret read it, then she handed it back to him and looked up with a pale little watery smile. “Well, I’m glad they didn’t turn you down utterly. It shows they must have good reports of you, and they must think a lot of Stormy. Of you both, of course. And I’m proud of you. It hurts, but I’m proud of you!”

  Margaret’s quiet, sensible acceptance of the fact did a lot toward taking away the sting of the separation that was to come, the thought that perhaps he would never come back to her on this earth, when they had just found each other. But after they had walked quite a distance and it was only a half hour before the school bell would sound for the afternoon session, they were calm enough to eat their cinnamon buns.

  “Mmmm!” said Margaret, eating the last crumb of hers. “They are good. I’m glad you brought them along. I’ll thank Roxy for them myself the next time I see her.”

  “But think of all the time we wasted last night in that fool reception,” said Barney. “When we might have been alone together.”

  “No!” said the girl cheerfully. “It wasn’t wasted. I’m glad you had that reception, and glad I was in on it with you. It is something to remember while you are gone. Something beautiful. I shall always hear you singing to my heart, until you come back to sing to me again.”