Homing

by Grace Livingston Hill

  So she settled it with her heart that all was well so far. At least she would have a respite for one day and get calm enough to know what she was about. For truly, it did not seem to her that any young man she knew, so far, had stirred her heart to its depths. She could not think of anyone whose words of love would set her senses going with delight. Maybe she wasn’t the kind of girl who would ever fall in love deeply anyway. Why worry? Why go after love till it came after you? Life was sweet and pleasant enough without it. Why did every woman think that of course she had to get married or her life would spell disaster? There were lots of nice things to do without that.

  So she set herself to do some of the things she had put by for the time of leisure, and a happy little peace filled her heart and made her feel that this day was a nice restful interval.

  Chapter 12

  Jane awoke the next morning not quite as refreshed from her night’s sleep on the new bed as she had been in Miss Leech’s lovely apartment, but she got up with interest in the new day. She was going back to work at the button counter and she felt so much better than when she had left for her vacation that she was almost thrilled at the prospect of returning. After all, it was so nice that she had a job and was feeling better and able to get back. It was so nice that she had pleasant things to remember, the books and the canary, and the goldfishes, and the delightful bed, and then most of all that wonderful Bible class.

  Memory of Kent Havenner’s appearance last night and the pleasant time they had had together talking over the lesson came like a dash of bright color into the picture and made her smile to herself into the scrap of a mirror that hung over her bureau. He had been nice, and he had said he would come again this morning with that letter. However portentous the letter might be, at least it was interesting to have a courteous gentleman bringing it. She would be able to ask his advice or explanation in case the letter was not a pleasant one or involved some sort of action on her part.

  So she hurried with her dressing, and went down to the unpretentious cafeteria downstairs, where oatmeal and weak cream featured prominently with orange juice at a premium, and not so good at that. She got a simple breakfast. She was rather too excited to eat much. And then she went on her way to the store.

  They greeted her quite cheerfully, those other girls with whom she worked. They told her the latest news of the store.

  “And you know that Mr. Gaylord over at the stockings? They say he’s married! Can you believe it? And after the way he’s been carrying on with all the girls! Why he’s flirted with half a dozen at least, and Marianne Featherton went around all day today after she heard it, crying her eyes out for him. Isn’t she a fool? She says he proposed to her Saturday night! Isn’t that the limit? And they say his wife left him six months ago. I don’t blame her, do you? Of course Adele Burridge says she doesn’t believe a word of it. That she useta live in the same town where he came from and if he’d ever have been married she’d have heard of it. She’s got an aunt living there yet that always writes her all the news, and she says he isn’t that kind of a fella at all. But my eye, you don’t havta watch him but halfa day ta tell what he is, the way he carries on with all the girls.”

  “Yes?” said Jane looking at the girl with a quiet calm in her eyes. “Well it’s likely he knows the truth himself, and it isn’t our business, of course.”

  “Yeah, course, but I think we should let it be known what kinda fella he is, don’t you? How’s a right-minded girl ta know? Why, he even came ’n ast me would I go to a dance with him, an’ o’ course I said yes, a nice-lookin’ fella like that, an’ now here I find he’s married, has been all the time. At least they say he is, so what is a girl to do ef she wants ta be half decent?”

  “Well,” said Jane with an amused smile on her lips, “I should think a girl would have to go a little slow with any stranger and not accept an invitation until she is really well acquainted. A right-minded man wouldn’t ask a girl he scarcely knew at all to go out with him, either, until he had a chance to know what kind of girl he was asking. You can’t judge either a man or a girl just by appearances, you know, not in these days anyway. Don’t you think so?”

  The girl shrugged her shoulders.

  “Oh, I don’t believe men are so particular these days, do you?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t care for the man who wasn’t, would you?”

  “Oh, I dunno. It doesn’t do to be too particular or you get left outside of everything.”

  “Not anything worthwhile.”

  “Well, I guess you’re pretty straitlaced, aren’t you? You don’t get much fun that way.”

  “There are plenty of ways to have fun without that,” said Jane. “And even if you didn’t, there’s a lot more peace and security.”

  “Oh, rats!” said the other girl. “I should worry about peace and security. You get plenty of that when you’re dead!”

  “Oh, do you?” said Jane. “I wonder!”

  Then a customer came along and she turned away from the conversation, wondering what this girl would say if she were introduced to the Bible classes she had been attending.

  It was almost twelve o’clock when Kent Havenner arrived.

  He had taken the precaution to cut off a button from one of his partly worn coats, and he had it ready in his hand along with the letter when he arrived in the store. He lingered long enough to get Jane’s attention.

  “Can you match this for me?” he asked quietly as she handed a package to a lady.

  She looked up a bit startled, but controlled the flash in her eyes and smiled casually enough, her salesgirl smile that she turned on all customers, and then glanced at the button.

  “Oh, yes, I think so,” she said pleasantly, and taking the button she turned back to the tiers of button drawers. She soon returned with an open box in her hand.

  “Yes, I think these are an exact match,” she said and held them out to him.

  He scrutinized them amusedly.

  “Yes, those are the ones. Charge and send a dozen, please, and here is the address.”

  He handed out the letter with his card slipped over the address. Not the closest observer could see anything unusual in that transaction. He wasn’t embarrassing her among her co-laborers in the least.

  She gave a quick look at the letter, took her order book and slipped the letter inside, put a rubber band firmly and deftly about it, and wrote the address into her order book from the card.

  “It’s a pleasant day,” Kent remarked pleasantly. “I could be at the door when you go out in case there are any questions about the letter you would like to ask. What time are you usually free?”

  She gave him a swift comprehending look that carried gratitude.

  “That is kind of you. I’m free at five, or three or four minutes later, unless there is a late customer.”

  “And what door would be most convenient?”

  “The Thirteenth Street door.”

  “I’ll be there at five,” he said and turned swiftly away, as Jane gave her attention to another customer.

  There was a faint tinge of pink in her cheeks as she stooped to one of the lower drawers to search for a certain kind of buckle the lady wanted, but no one was noticing her. The whole thing had been so swiftly done that even Mr. Clark, if he had been watching, would scarcely have noticed the transaction. But Jane’s heart was beating wildly, and the next half hour before she was due to go to her lunch seemed long indeed. She had time enough to think of all the wild possibilities that letter might contain, and to draw a cloak of dignity about her in preparation for the afternoon closing time when she would have to meet that kind young lawyer, and perhaps ask him troublesome questions. But she went steadily on with her work, trying to remember the verses she had been reading that morning: “Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.”

  But at last the time of anxiety was over, and she could escape to the cloakroom and
read her letter in peace.

  It was not long, that important letter with the name of important lawyers in its upper left-hand corner. With trembling fingers she opened the envelope and read, the letters dancing menacingly before her eyes as she tried to take in their meaning.

  My dear Miss Scarlett:

  As a result of the death of Mr. Harold Scarlett, his will must be probated as soon as it can be conveniently done. As there is a possibility that you may be somewhat benefited by this, we are asking you kindly to call at our office at your earliest convenience and bring with you your birth certificate if possible, or any other proofs you may happen to have that will prove your identity.

  The property has greatly depreciated during the years of depression, and is not the opulent estate that it was in former days. But if you can prove your identity satisfactorily it may be that you are one of those mentioned in the will and will therefore have a voice in whether a modest property belonging to the estate shall be sold or remain within the Scarlett estate. As there is a possible purchaser in view who is anxious to settle the matter at once, it would be a favor if you could come to the office within a short time.

  Very truly,

  J. Waltham Sanderson

  Jane felt her knees weaken under her and suddenly dropped down on a bench, the letter trembling in her hands. What did it mean anyway? What did she have to do with it all? Did it mean that her name had been mentioned in Uncle Harold’s will?

  She read the letter over again, trying to fathom the exact meaning of each phrase.

  How strange if she were mentioned in the will! Why, she didn’t even know that Uncle Harold knew her name! Mother always said that he was very different from her father, he was much younger, he was proud of his wealth and family, haughty and disagreeable. He had made a great fuss when he heard her father was to marry her mother. He had said her mother was not good enough to marry his scholarly brother.

  The only time that Jane had been at the old homestead, when she was still a little child, Uncle Harold had been abroad. So he had never meant anything but a name to her, and a very vague one at that, whose life would probably never touch hers. She had understood that he traveled a great deal, and spent his money freely in whims of his own.

  So now to have him suddenly speaking to her as from beyond the grave filled her with a strange awe.

  She tried to recall all her mother had told her about him. He had married, she knew, and his wife had died a few years ago, just before her own mother died. She could not remember whether there had been children or not. Well, probably if there weren’t, or even perhaps if there were, there was some technicality of the law whereby it was necessary for all possible heirs to sign off or something, to make everything legal. Law was a strange thing that she did not understand. It might be of course that there was some clause in the grandfather’s will that would take in his other heirs. It must be something like that. It didn’t really make sense to her mind, but it was the only explanation she could think of, so she had to let it go at that. At least the letter relieved her anxiety lest someone were trying to involve her in some crooked business, stealing or something like that. She didn’t just know what. Anyhow, she could do nothing but just wait and trust.

  And now she must get a bite of lunch, or she would be collapsing again. She mustn’t run the risk of that.

  She folded her letter safely into her handbag and hurried to the dairy lunch in the basement where she could get a glass of milk and a sandwich quickly. But all the time her mind was going over this strange new thing that had come to her, trying to figure out what was its portent.

  Suppose Uncle Harold had had no children, what would he have done with his property? Suppose there had been fifty or a hundred dollars or perhaps a little more than that left over after his funeral expenses were paid. To whom would he have been likely to leave it? Did his wife have any relatives? She didn’t know. Perhaps he would leave it to a hospital that took care of him in his last illness, or a nurse, or some club, or maybe even a church. And perhaps it was necessary in law to have any relatives sign, to make sure that no possible heirs could make trouble afterward. No, that didn’t sound very likely. Law was law, and didn’t need possible heirs to agree to what the dead man had willed, surely. Well, it was all right, whatever way it was. She still had her job with a little money ahead, and a Bible class to look forward to one evening a week all winter, for there had been a notice given to that effect just last night at the class. Why should she worry?

  Then it suddenly came to her remembrance that the nice young lawyer was going to meet her at the door at closing time, ready to answer any questions she had. She could find out what was closing time in the lawyers’ office, whether they kept open Saturday afternoons, or whether there would be time in the evening when she could go without having to ask off at the store. She really ought not to run any risks at the store of course. Or maybe she could run over at lunch hour, and just eat a cracker on the way in the street instead of lunch.

  Then she was back behind the counter and the day swung into a busy afternoon. She tried to forget all about her personal problems and do her work conscientiously, but all the time in the back of her mind was the exciting consciousness that something was going to happen to her, even if it was only a dull visit to a lawyer’s office to sign an ordinary paper that meant nothing in the world but a formality. Also she was going to meet young Mr. Havenner again after closing time. It would probably be the last time she would ever see him, but he was someone she would enjoy remembering when days were lonely and time seemed long and weary. He was a gentleman. Perhaps a Christian, she wasn’t sure. He had really looked as if he meant it when he said he was going to look further into the book of John and perhaps turn up at the class again.

  And yet Jane did not hasten when the bugle blew. She finished putting away her buttons carefully, and took out her purse in a deliberate way. She waited until Hilda and Louise were gone, and took her time getting her hat, and when she finally reached the Thirteenth Street door they were all out of sight. But there stood Kent Havenner leaning against the wall quite casually and not even facing toward the door. He had a folded newspaper in his hand as if he were perusing it. Nobody could suspect, even if there had been anybody watching, that he was waiting for someone to come out of that door. Yet she had a feeling that he saw her instantly when she appeared. He waited until she stepped out to the pavement, and then he fell into step beside her and walked along smiling as if he belonged there, as if she had left him only a few minutes before.

  After he had helped her across the street he said casually: “Well, was your letter all right?”

  “Oh!” she said excitedly. “What is it all about? Do you know? And when do I go to the office? They’ll be closed after five, won’t they? And I mustn’t risk losing my job!”

  He looked at her with an amused wondering glance. Didn’t she really understand?

  “I suppose that would be important,” he said.

  “Oh, very!” said Jane tensely, and had a secret feeling that he wouldn’t in the least understand how important her job was to her very life.

  “Well,” he said, still amusedly, “you can go to the office right now if you will.” There was a twinkle in his eye as he said it. “Mr. Sanderson is waiting there now for you, on the chance that I might be able to persuade you to come at once.”

  “Oh!” she gasped amazed, and then her heart suddenly contracted in a panic. Then it must be more important than she had thought! “Yes, I could go now. I don’t suppose it will take long to sign a paper, but I’m sorry if I have inconvenienced him to wait longer than usual.”

  “Oh, that’s nothing for him,” said Kent. “He often stays late in the evening when he has extra work to do.”

  Then suddenly he signaled a taxi and put her in, whirling her away to a great high building, and she was soon shooting up to the fifteenth floor in an elevator, her heart beating excitedly. She was glad that the uncertainty at least would soon be over.


  “You don’t need to be frightened,” said Kent gently, looking down at her anxious young face as they got out of the elevator. “You know there is nothing to be afraid of.”

  She looked up gratefully.

  “You are very kind,” she said with a faint smile on her pale lips.

  And then suddenly they were in the office and a tall elderly man with gray hair and bushy eyebrows stood looking down at her, and she felt a great trembling come upon her.

  Kent was introducing her now. This was Mr. Sanderson, and he was offering her a chair.

  Chapter 13

  Jane dropped down upon the edge of the chair, and her face was very white. Somehow more than ever the business upon which she had come seemed so frightening. If she could only have run out the door and down the stairs and got away she would have done it, and she couldn’t just tell why she was so frightened. Somehow the shades of all things and people that had ever frightened her seemed to cluster around her and focus in that stern-looking Mr. Sanderson.

  “You are Miss Jane Scarlett?” he said, and gave her one of his searching glances. “Did you bring a birth certificate?”

  “No,” said Jane taking a deep breath and trying to speak steadily. “My birth certificate and the few other things I have of that sort I left in a house where I worked for a while before I came to this city. It would be several days before I could get them. At least, I hope it wouldn’t be any longer than that.”

  Mr. Sanderson drew his brows frowning.