The Street of the City

by Grace Livingston Hill

  “And now,” said the nurse, assuming charge of the little household, “you two girls run upstairs and make up your bed. I didn’t know where to find the sheets or I would have done it. Don’t worry about me. I’ve taken that cot the movers brought and put it in your mother’s room. If you’ve got an extra blanket and quilt or something, just lay them out and I’ll be fixed fine. I want to watch your mother and give her the medicine through the night, you know. And you girls ought to get to bed right away. You said you had to start early in the morning, Frannie, and there’ll be breakfast to get ready. I saw some cereal on the pantry shelf. Would you like me to start some oatmeal? You ought to have a good hot breakfast, Frannie, before you go to work. I can start it while I wash up these few dishes. And I’ll squeeze a little orange juice, too. I see there are some oranges here.”

  “That will be lovely, Nurse Branner. But I could do all that,” said Frannie.

  “No, we’ll work together,” the nurse said, smiling. “Run along and get that bed ready.”

  So in a very short time Nurse Branner had martialed the little household into bed, and except for a dim night light in the sickroom, the little house beside the silver way was in darkness, until late that night when the old moon dropped over the brow of the hill, and reaching down for a brief space gilded the edges of the mossy roof and glinted for a few flashing seconds from the window panes behind the gaunt hemlock tree.

  The weary little family who slept behind those modest old brick walls felt great content at the refuge they had found, deep gratitude to the God who had provided it for them, and dreamed pleasant dreams of a comfortable future.

  But out on the dark, frozen river there stalked two figures. One, a tall man in a warm, sumptuous overcoat, furred to his chin, hands in his pockets, rubber shod, had his hat drawn over his eyes. The other was short and thick-set in a heavy sheepskin-lined windbreaker, rough shoes spotted with plaster, and a soft hat that had seen many years of service.

  “There it is,” said the tall man, “right behind that line of houses. As neat a piece of land as you could get for the job. And I should think it ought to be had for a song. The house is just ready to drop down anyway. But suppose they won’t sell.”

  “Oh, they’ll sell all right,” said the other, commonly known as Mike.

  “But there’s somebody living there, isn’t there? I’m sure I see a light. A blue light.”

  “Only renters,” said Mike. “I seen ’em move in last week. Only had one truckload of stuff as far as I could see. They might even be only squatters. I don’t think they’re anything to worry about, Mr. Granniss. It would be dead easy to drive ’em out.”

  “Not if they have a contract. You couldn’t do a thing if they have.”

  “Oh, they wouldn’t have a contract. Not plain folks like that. And besides, if they have, it would be dead easy to get the house condemned, and then the owner would have to tear it down, and he’d be glad enough to take what’s offered him, in a case like that.”

  “H’m! I see!” said Granniss. “Well you go ahead, Mike, and see what you can do about it. It certainly would be a convenient place for our powder plant, right on the river and all. I suppose, perhaps, there might be a kick from some of those grand residents across the river who think they own the earth with a gold fence around it, having a powder plant so near, but they wouldn’t be able to do a thing about it, of course, after we had bought it. Don’t let a word get out about this, Mike, till we get it all settled.”

  “That goes without sayin’, Boss. And you wouldn’t have trouble with those swells over there anyhow. They’re too far off. And besides, they don’t even look over across the river. They wouldn’t touch one of those people on the other side with a ten-foot pole. They’re too snooty. But say, Boss, did you take notice to them new houses going up on our side? They’d be just the place for our workers to live. And only two of ’em is rented, so far. That’d mean you could house your workers right off the bat after you got your plant built, and that don’t take any time at all these days.”

  “That’s so, Mike! Well, suppose we walk over past the brick house and get a little closer so we can see it better. And we’d better not talk while we go by. Someone might hear us and report on us. You can’t even trust a sleeping woodchuck these days. Then we’ll get back to my car and go get some sleep. Meantime, you get in touch with the owner. Better do it by long-distance phone. This thing has got to be settled at once if it is going to be any good to me. And tomorrow night, same time, same place, you’ll find me. Let me know how you come out.”

  “Okay!”

  Then the two figures shuffled silently across the river and up nearer to the riverbank, even pausing a moment at the very steps where Frannie had sat to take off her skates, and looked up at the house a moment. The house with the blue light in the upper front window and the silver edges to the old mossy roof. Then they turned and shuffled away to the car that was parked on a side street back of the half-finished houses, higher up the hill.

  Chapter 5

  Val Willoughby went to supper with Lady Winthrop. He had always admired her, even as a child, and he felt that what she had done for these stranger-neighbors was a beautiful act. She was going to be a good friend to the newcomers, and somehow he was very glad of that. For some reason he had taken a deep interest in these Fernleys himself. He hadn’t thought it through for himself yet, but he was glad they would have such a friend as this gentlewoman. Moreover she had two sons whom he used to admire, both older than himself. He must find out about them, where they were and what they were doing. So he accepted her invitation with alacrity. He was too late for the formal dinner at his aunt’s house, anyway, and might as well enjoy himself. And it wouldn’t be necessary for him to let his aunt know. She understood that he often had to stay late at the plant and would not have waited for him.

  The dinner was delicious, of course. All Hannah’s dinners were. And they lingered talking for a long time. Lady Winthrop was telling of incidents of her sons’ experiences in camp, telling where she thought they were located now, and how she wasn’t sure just when or where they would be moved. They spoke briefly of the terrible things that were beginning to happen over the world, of the possibilities if the war should come nearer, the safety regulations.

  “We have a wonderful storm cellar, of course,” said the old lady. “Not that we’ve ever used it for storms in our time. The grandfather who built the house came from the west where they had so many tornadoes, and he insisted on a storm cellar. So, in a way, I suppose we are prepared for raids. I had them come and inspect the foundations and they are solidly reinforced. So I’ve had supplies taken down there in case there should be a need. Of course I don’t suppose a quiet country house like this would be the target of a raid, but I thought we might be able to help others who have no refuge. And I have rolled up black shades which can be quickly adjusted for a sudden blackout. I think we must comply with the requests of those in charge, of course, but it is hard to realize that such terrible things could actually come to our peaceful land.”

  “Yes, that’s right. It surely is,” said the young man seriously. “It doesn’t seem possible that such a state of the universe can possibly fit in with the Creator’s scheme of things for the world either, does it? But perhaps He’s just disgusted with us all and has given us over to do our own ways. Weren’t there some old fellows in the Bible times who had to have a lesson to teach them how they had abused their privileges? I don’t really know much about such things, but lately when I’ve been spending my days planning instruments of punishment for our enemies, I’ve been wondering what God thinks of it all. I guess my mother’s way of teaching me when I was a kid has made me think such thoughts. What do you think about it all, Lady Winthrop? You used to know my mother, and I have a kind of memory that she thought you were the best Christian she knew. Have you reasoned it all out?”

  “Why, no, not reasoned it out exactly. I never was enough of a Bible student to do that. I think it is
better just to trust it out. I believe God has it all planned though and there’s a reason for everything that happens. Some of it undoubtedly must be warning to sinners if not actual punishment for unbelief.”

  “But there are a lot of good people suffering through this war, aren’t there? How do you account for it that God lets so many of what you would call real believers suffer? Do you mean you think some of those who seem to be such good people are really sinners in secret?”

  “Oh no, I didn’t mean that. Though there might be some, of course. But don’t you remember the story of the blind man when you went to Sunday school? Don’t you remember how the disciples asked the Lord, ‘Who did sin, this man, or his parents, that he was born blind?’ And you remember the Lord’s answer, ‘Neither hath this man sinned, nor his parents; but that the works of God should be made manifest in him.’ ”

  “You mean,” said Willoughby, his eyes bright with thoughtfulness, “that perhaps this war is in some way going to show that God is working through it all? Going to show that God isn’t dead and hasn’t forgotten?”

  “Yes, I think it may be something like that. God is using these evil nations and their ungodliness, and hatred, and especially their hatred of His chosen people, the Jews, to show the world that He means all He has said in the Bible. And I think we are going to discover pretty soon that everything that is happening in the world, all that is in the newspapers and on the radio every day, has been written long ago in detail, in the Bible.”

  “You don’t mean it!” exclaimed Willoughby. “Do you mean to say that the Bible has anything to say about this present war? About the things that are going on all over the world today?”

  “Why of course. Didn’t you know that? We have a wonderful class that meets here once a week, and we’ve been studying about that.”

  “I’d like to come and hear about it,” said the young man. “Would that be permissible?”

  “Wonderful!” said the old lady with sweet satisfaction on her face. “I’ve been wishing we could get some of the young people to come, for I know they would be interested if they could just hear even a few minutes of it. It is fascinating.”

  “That’s great. Surely I’ll come. If there is anything in the Bible that shows God is aware of this awful war I would like to know about it. You know, Mrs. Winthrop, I think this war business has made us all think more seriously about what we’re here for.”

  “Well, maybe that is one of the good things about the war then,” said the old lady, smiling. “They say so many of the young people are just going on as if life was all a game and had no end. I’m glad if a few of them are beginning to think. I knew my boys were, but they are older than you are.”

  “Yes, they are older, and they are doing great things in the service. I only wish I could be over there where they are.”

  “Don’t say that, Val. You are probably just where the Lord meant you to be. You’re doing most valuable work where you are. I just heard about your plant today. Mr. Strong, the head of the committee for war plants, told me that your plant is one of the most valuable in the country, and they were especially favored in having a young man in as responsible a position as you are, who had your training and ability. He felt you were doing far more there than you could have done in any other capacity, and I was proud to say that I knew you.”

  “Oh, thank you, dear lady. That means a lot to me. It’s almost like having my mother send me commendations, because I know you were her friend, and she honored and loved you.”

  Presently she took her guest into the library and showed him some letters and pictures her sons had sent her, and then some of the books on prophecy that her class had been studying.

  “That one is written by a friend of our teacher,” she said. “He has made quite a study of prophecy, and I think he is one of the most fascinating writers we have. Take it along with you and read it if you like. I’ve finished reading it. Do you have any time to read?”

  “Well, a little, now and then, when I’m not too late coming home at night,” he said taking the book and opening it. “Thank you. I’d like to read it. Its looks interesting.”

  “Oh, it is!” said the old lady enthusiastically.

  And so, while Marietta over in her own home ate a belated dinner and hovered uneasily near the telephone until it was time to go to an engagement, waiting and expecting Val to call her, Willoughby was discussing prophecy and war probabilities with a lovely lady four times Marietta’s age and enjoying every minute of it. Before Val went home they talked a little about the new people who had come to reside in the plain little brick house across the ice and what could be done for them.

  “You and the daughter came home together, didn’t you? You both skated home, didn’t you? Do you know, I was watching for you, although I didn’t know that that girl was the Fernley one. I never saw where she came from before, only noticed her as she went skimming by and admired her. She seems quite an attractive little thing, doesn’t she? Was she much worried by the news you brought her?”

  “Yes, she was,” said the young man. “She wanted to drop everything and hurry right home, until I finally made her understand that the doctor did not think it necessary and had promised to telephone at noon just how things were, and that her mother was very insistent that she should not be told lest she would think she had to come home and perhaps lose her job. Her boss was very kind and offered to let her go at once, but that seemed to bring her to her senses, and she braced up and stayed. She seems to be a girl with a good deal of character.”

  “Yes,” said the old lady. “Of course I only saw her a short time, but she impressed me as being very sweet besides being pretty. I do hope her mother will soon get well. That little Bonnie is a darling child, but she’s too young to be left alone with an invalid. I’m glad the nurse is there.”

  “Yes,” said Willoughby, “they certainly need her. But I’m not so sure they will keep her long. I think even now they see through the excuse that she needs a place to stay, and they are very proud. But I guess they cannot afford to pay nurses’ prices.”

  “Well, there’ll probably be a way to work it out till she is better, and in the meantime they’ll get very much attached to that nurse. She’s rather wonderful, you know.”

  “Don’t I know! She nursed me once, and she’s swell! But say, is that clock right? Don’t tell me I’ve stayed here all the evening wasting all your time! I ought to be hanged at dawn. But I’ve enjoyed every minute of it, and I hope you’ll let me come again sometime.”

  “I certainly will, and I hope you’ll come often. Though when you get really settled down to this part of the country again I expect there’ll be so many girl-rivals that I shan’t see much of you,” said Lady Winthrop, smiling. “But I shall cherish the memory of this evening, anyway.”

  “Girls?” said the young man with an indifferent shrug, “don’t worry! I don’t waste much time with them. That little skating girl today is about the most sensible one I’ve seen since I was a kid. But I don’t believe she has time to use socially, and she might not care for my company if she did. She’s a most independent little lady. Besides, she lives on the other side of the river, and when the ice is gone that makes a wide barrier for people who haven’t much time to themselves these strenuous days.”

  “Well, that river was anything but a barrier today. I don’t know what would have happened if that child hadn’t crossed the ice. Not many of those houses near them are inhabited yet.”

  “That’s true,” said Val, “I was thinking myself how none of that today could have happened if the river hadn’t been frozen.”

  “Yes,” said the old lady with a soft little contemplative sigh, “it’s a great river! I call it my street. It has always reminded me of the words ‘And the street of the city’—the heavenly city, you know—‘was pure gold, as it were transparent glass.’ And evenings when the sun is setting I always think of the ‘sea of glass mingled with fire.’ ”

  “Say, that’s beautiful, Lady W
inthrop! I feel I am greatly privileged to know you.”

  “There, young man, don’t go to imagining I am anything unusual. It’s just some fanciful ideas that came to me from time to time when I was reading my Bible or looking at my river. They are not my ideas at all, just a sort of vision the Father gave me. Perhaps I should have kept them to myself. But I’m alone so much I get to thinking out loud.”

  “Heavenly thoughts!” said Val in a grave, sweet voice. “I shall like to catch the vision with you. I’ll be thinking of that when I go skating down your ‘street of the city.’ Well now I must go home! Do you see what time it is? You are more fascinating than any people I know—around here, anyway.”

  And after he was gone the old lady stood thoughtfully a moment looking at the chair where he had sat.

  “Nice boy!” she said softly. “Almost like one of my own. I wonder if he will really ever come to a Bible class. Maybe just once. He’s very polite. He might think that necessary. Well, he’s a nice boy, anyway. And how he has fitted into the need of the day! I hope he comes to see me often.”

  Meantime Marietta was making another angry attempt to reach Valiant Willoughby. He heard the violent ringing of the telephone as he unlocked the front door of his aunt’s house, and no one seemed to be answering it. The servants must have gone to bed, and his aunt was out at one of her endless committees which had succeeded her former endless bridge parties.

  He stepped over to the telephone, and his clear, impersonal voice came like a draught of ice water to Marietta’s angry spirit.

  “Yes?” he said.

  “Well, for pity’s sake! Are you actually there at last, Val Willoughby! Where on earth have you been keeping yourself all day and all the evening? I’ve fairly been driven to call out the police to search for you.”