The Right Knock

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The Right Knock Page 6

by Helen Van-Anderson


  CHAPTER IV.

  "Society is like a piece of frozen water; and skating well the great art of social life."--_Letitia Elizabeth Landon._

  "Too bad about Hayden, isn't it?" said one business man to another afterthe crash came.

  "Yes, I am sorry for him, but he is coming out honorably, and I hopehe'll commence again before long."

  "Well, he is made of the right stuff if he did make one mistake, and Iguess he will never make the same blunder again. Too bad though abouthis house. No insurance at all, and that was a magnificent property."

  "Indeed it was, and I hope for his wife's sake he can sell the lot andget another home for her."

  "Can't do it now though--real estate is too low for any use in Hampton."

  "Yes, that's so. The only way is to mortgage, and that seems a pity inthis case--" and they passed on out of hearing.

  John Hayden, standing within the doorway of the open store, hadoverheard the remarks, and while they pained, they cheered him. Fromthat moment his resolve was taken, and as soon as everything washonorably settled he applied for credit of his old friends in thewholesale houses and they gladly gave it, for his reputation wasunimpeachable.

  Then he rented a modest little store and began anew.

  Mrs. Hayden lay sick seven weeks, and arose a weak and nervous invalid,"doomed to carry a still limb all her life," the physicians said. Theycould not discover why her limb was stiff, but there was no help for it.

  How did she bear the change in her life and circumstances? When herhusband told her, she just put her arms around his neck and whispered;"All right, John, I shall do the best I can to help you bear it." Andfrom that moment they began life again. She did not even complain whenthey were obliged to move into a small cottage in the suburbs, but itwas hard for her to be ignored and forgotten by the elegant socialworld, where she had so recently been an acknowledged leader.

  Alas! she had no sugar plums for society now, so it soon forgot herexistence. There were, however, some exceptions among her formerfriends, and she was glad to welcome among her few visitors, Kate Turnerand Grace Hall, who had grown to love Mrs. Hayden more than they wouldhave thought possible when she seemed so high above them in the socialscale.

  "She is turning out a saint rather than a sinner," said Kate oneevening, as they were discussing the Haydens and recalled theconversation of the night of the party.

  "Just wait awhile. Many people can be heroic in great things, but aresadly deficient when it comes to the little things," said Grace, withher usual caution. "I believe I could be a heroine myself, if some grandopportunity came," she added, smiling.

  "Oh, Grace, don't trifle so; you know this is a very serious matter withMr. and Mrs. Hayden, and they are both doing nobly," cried Kate, withtears in her eyes.

  "Well, queen Katherine, I don't mean any harm, and you must not thinkanything of my brusque speeches. As you know, there is a tinge ofskepticism in me which I can not help, and my ideals are so much higherthan the realities of life, that I am always painfully conscious of thedifference."

  "Well, what would you wish Mrs. Hayden to be like, for instance, inorder to come up to your ideal of the heroic woman?" asked Kate in asoftened tone.

  "Kate dear, I love Mrs. Hayden as much as you do, and would not for amoment disparage her virtues, but it strikes me as a philosophical factthat as a rule, human nature can and does display wonderful courage ingreat emergencies, but fails miserably in details, and this ought not tobe so. Nothing would please me better than to see one life prove that Iam wrong."

  "That is all true, Gracie, about humanity in general, but she is lovely,and I am sorry for her having to be lame all her life. It's a perfectshame that she must lose even her health, for of course she will neverbe strong again."

  "Another defect to be noted somewhere in the universal economy. It seemsto me we are pretty helpless creatures, generally speaking, for it allappears to be a matter of chance whether we get well or not, when we_do_ get sick," mused Grace, bent upon drawing her own conclusions.

  Poor girl! Life had been rather hard for her, and she judged it as itappeared, and there _did_ seem a great flaw somewhere which she wastrying her best to solve by noting every phase of life as she found it.Naturally bright, keenly intellectual and very independent, she was aphilosopher as well as an artist, and always ready for a tilt with theworld on its most petted opinions. Hers was a reasoning mind thatobserved all inconsistencies and discrepancies in anything she studied,and there was generally a little acidity in her judgment of the worldand its bigoted ways.

  "I can't see why Mrs. Hayden should not be cured completely," continuedKate, ignoring her companion's last shot, "for it wasn't so bad thatanybody knew of until she got up."

  "My dear madam," said Grace, striking an owlish attitude, "you have notread the latest opinion expressed by one of the most learned professorsin the Allopathic school of medicine in Paris. He stood before the classof graduating students and said: 'Gentlemen, you have done me the honorto come here to listen to a lecture on the science of medicine. I mustfrankly confess I know nothing about it, and, moreover, know of no onewho does. Any one who takes medicine is fortunate if it helps him, butmore fortunate if it does not harm him.' Whether our friend is fortunateor unfortunate is a question hard to decide. I move we discuss anothersubject."

  Kate laughed in spite of herself, and Grace got up to take another viewof the "Modern Hypatia," which at last was growing into a visiblecreation under her skillful brush.

  "Isn't that a woman for you?" she said, pointing to the pictureadmiringly, as she held it under the gas light.

  "Yes, I like her better than Hebe. She has a look of reserved powerabout her that is captivating, but there is something in her face thatmakes me sad, something that is lacking."

  "What is it? Tell me, for _I_ can see nothing!" Grace questionedimpetuously.

  "Wait a minute, perhaps I can define it. There! hold it so. Let me see,"and Kate walked off a few paces.

  "Yes, it is dissatisfaction, an incompleteness, as though she had notfound what she sought."

  "Can you see that, Kate? Then I am at the same time the most happy andunhappy creature alive," cried Grace, breathlessly dropping into a chairand holding the picture fondly near her face.

  "Why?" said the astonished Kate.

  "Don't you know I am forever putting myself into my pictures? And I'vesucceeded too admirably with this one. The poor thing has caught myunconscious fault of finding defects everywhere. Oh, I must get it outof her some way; how shall I, when to me she looks so perfect?"

  "You better get it out of yourself first, if that is the trouble,"replied Kate, with a great wave of pity in her voice.

  "I wish I could. Oh, why do I have to see everything in the wrong way?It seems to me life would be heavenly, if I could know only the good ineverything." Grace put down the picture and gazed at it with stern,accusing eyes. "I shall leave this one and begin another to-morrow," shefinally announced in a subdued tone.

  "I am glad you won't rub this out, for she is too lovely," said Kate,softly, as she went about, gently putting things in order, picking upher music and arranging the books.

  Grace sat there brooding over her life problems with a new thought inher mind. She dimly realized that a woman must have a genuine messageherself before she tries to give it to the world. And alas, her messagewas sadly deficient, she found. Mechanically she took a book from thetable and opening it at random, read:

  "If the whole is ever to gladden thee, That whole in the smallest thing thou must see."

  "That is not bad philosophy, whose is it?" she thought. She looked atthe book. It was Goethe's poems, but she was not in the mood forreading, and she sat thinking till late at night. This was a newsentiment. She would digest it and test its practical truth.

 

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