Homing

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Homing Page 14

by Grace Livingston Hill


  Some people came in and took the table a little way from them, looking over and speaking to Kent interestedly. Kent nodded to them but went on turning the pages of John and pointing out something he had read on the train the other night.

  After dessert arrived Kent looked up suddenly and asked: “Have you thought anything about that property? Are you likely to sell it in case you prove to be the heir?”

  “I?” said Jane with a startled look. “Why, no, I don’t really believe I’ll have anything to say about it. Somebody else will turn up that will take the right, I’m sure, even if it were left to me. I can’t think of either my great-aunt or her daughters ever giving up any family property to me.” She laughed ruefully. “You see, they think the earth was especially made for their benefit.”

  “Well,” said Kent, “but if it turned out that it was in your hands to say, would you want to sell it?”

  “How could I tell?” said Jane sadly. “I’ve never seen it. I don’t know what it is. If it were really something associated with my people, of course it would be wonderful to keep it, but how could a poor salesgirl keep property? It costs money to keep property, even very plain property, doesn’t it? There would be taxes and repairs. Oh, no, of course I couldn’t keep it, but I’d love to if I could. I’ve often thought about the beautiful old home where my grandfather lived, and where I was taken as a child, and wished that it might have been kept and I could have lived there. But it takes money to live in dear old homes. I can remember the walls, beautiful wide walls with ivy on them, and there was a swing—”

  Kent couldn’t help thinking how very sweet her eyes were as she talked about the old days she seemed to love.

  “Where was the old home? Do you remember?”

  “It was in a place called Hawthorne, not far from a big city. I don’t remember the name of the city. That is, it never made any impression on me. Of course, it’s all written down in my father’s diary, and I can look it up when my trunk comes. I’ll have to brush up my knowledge of my father’s house. Why, it’s a good deal like what we’re doing in the class, isn’t it, brushing up knowledge about our Father’s house in heaven! It’s strange how we get interested in this world and drift away from the other life, isn’t it? Even when I was very forlorn and unhappy and hadn’t a job and was afraid of what would happen next, I scarcely ever thought to go to God for help. I had no realization that He cared to have me come and talk to Him and ask His help.”

  “Yes, well, I’ve done that a lot, too, but since I’ve been reading this Book I’ve almost come to the conclusion there is another life, and it’s worth a lot more than this one down here. I guess I’m glad you led me where I heard about it. Of course, Dad and Mother and my sister go to church, and likely they know all this lingo, only I never hear them talk about it. Maybe they never heard it our way. But I guess it’s worth a try. But say, it’s time we got going, or we’ll be late to the class!”

  Kent paid the check and they hurried away to the class, Jane suddenly wondering again to find herself escorted as she had seen other girls, and a sudden pang came to her heart. Pretty soon this business about the property would be over and settled one way or the other, and her young lawyer would go his way. He would have no occasion to hover about her and see her here and there and take her to dinner in grand places. When his business no longer linked itself to her, of course he would drift back into his own world. He would probably forget the Bible class, too. Or was that quite fair to him to doubt the interest he had acknowledged? Well, she would at least have this pleasant evening to remember, so that when she saw other girls going about with their young men friends she would understand their happy times a little better, and think how she had had at least a little taste of young companionship.

  At the class they sat up near the front together, and it was so nice not to be all alone as she had been until then.

  The lesson that night was beautiful. The two as they listened seemed to be closely bound by their interest, and now and again they would look at each other in mutual recognition of a truth that struck home more deeply than another. If Evadne could have watched her former lover’s face that night she certainly would have been filled with scorn and wonder, for never had she seen such a look of awakening on his face, the look of a soul just seeing the light.

  At the close of the lesson Mrs. Brooke introduced a young man, their new teacher. They saw to their amazement that he was strong and attractive with a face of radiant happiness. He didn’t make a speech, just nodded to them all informally and told them how he loved God’s Word and that he hoped they were to have many happy hours of study together, beginning next Thursday evening. Then Mrs. Brooke asked him to sing them a song that she might remember as she went away, and sitting down at the piano he sang, a simple rhythmic melody, with the words that wrote themselves in their hearts, and could not easily be forgotten:

  “Oh Lord, You know

  I have no friend like You,

  If heaven is not my home

  Oh Lord, what shall I do?

  The angels beckon me

  To heaven’s open door,

  I can’t feel at home

  In this world anymore.”

  He sang it so tenderly, so longingly that it sank deep into the soul life of them all. And then he made them sing it once or twice till they caught it, and went out humming it. It was obvious that the whole group would go home singing that song. The new teacher had won his class. They would all be there next week if at all possible.

  Jane and Kent went up and spoke to Mrs. Brooke and said good-bye.

  “You’ve done great things for us both,” said Kent, because he was the bolder of the two and really felt gratitude for what he had received. She introduced them to the new teacher, and they liked his personality at the nearer view. They went out pledged to come again, and perhaps to try and bring others.

  “Oh Lord, You know,” Jane sang softly, almost inaudibly, as they left the hall and fell into step on the street, “I have no friend like You—” Her voice was very sweet, and Kent drew her arm within his own and looked down at her, and never knew that Evadne had crossed their path on her way to the theater and was looking back, staring unbelievingly at Kent Havenner walking along with a very simply dressed girl and looking very happy indeed. It really was quite time that she did something about this. She had not counted on such extreme indifference as this.

  “If heaven is not my home

  Oh Lord, what shall I do?”

  “You have a really lovely voice!” said the young man. “It is unusual. I like to hear you sing that.”

  “It is a lovely song,” said Jane. “I never heard it before. It seems as if it was made just for me. As if God sent it to show me something. Here I’ve been mourning all my life that I never had a real home, and perhaps God allowed it just to remind me that heaven is my home and I mustn’t put my hopes on earth. I think that is going to make a great difference in my way of looking at life. I’m not going to fret anymore that I’ve only a hall bedroom to call home. My Father is getting ready my home up there!”

  Kent looked down into the loveliness of her exalted face, as if heaven had opened and given her a quick vision, and a mistiness came over his own eyes. Something contracted in his heart. This was a wonderful girl, and she had hold of something that was worth more than all the nonsense of the smart set with whom he had been trying enjoy himself for the last two or three years.

  Suddenly a vision of Evadne’s selfish, hard young face came beside Jane’s illuminated one, and he knew all at once that he had been a fool ever to think Evadne was interesting. But he answered Jane thoughtfully enough:

  “I guess you’re right. But I never thought about these things before. This life has always been enough for me. I’ve been fairly satisfied with my earthly home, and I never thought of the time that might come when it wouldn’t be enough anymore. I’ve got to get busy and grow heaven-wise, for I don’t believe I’m going to feel satisfied down here anymore, either. That’
s a great song. I wish there was a piano in your reception room. I’d suggest that we step in and try singing it together. I mean to try the tune out the minute I get home tonight.”

  They were happy eyes that met at the door of the rooming house as they said good-bye.

  “I shan’t be seeing you till Monday,” he said as he paused at her door, his hat lifted. “The firm is sending me out of the city for a couple of days, and I don’t suppose I shall be back before late Saturday night. But by Monday that trunk ought to be here, and I’ll be stopping around to hear your report. Good night!”

  He was gone, and Jane was conscious of a sudden blank. But what were his comings and goings to her anyway? She had no right to be disturbed, of course. She wouldn’t likely have seen him at all, even if he hadn’t been going out of town. Only going out of town was so definite, and as he was really her only friend, it did make a difference to know that she wouldn’t even meet him by chance somewhere.

  But she ought not to call him her friend. A friend implied a closer relationship than just a business contact, and that was all there had been between them, or likely ever would be. She must support herself in this matter. It was unwise to admire or become interested in anybody who was so utterly out of the range of any possible idea of companionship. He had been nice to her, yes, and she was so lonely and forlorn that she had just enjoyed this contact as much as possible, but she must not let herself be lonely when the contact ceased. That was the way fool girls got their hearts broken, and she certainly did not want to be a fool girl. Her mother had always warned her about counting too much on friendships with men. Even the fact that he was interested in that Bible class did not make any difference. It was wonderful to think he might be a Christian. That would always make a little bond of friendliness. Just to know she knew one of God’s children, even if she didn’t see him anymore was nice. But she must get to work somehow and do something to occupy her mind and not think about this matter of Uncle Harold’s will. Perhaps after hours tomorrow she would go and take a long walk in the park, and stop at a new place for dinner. That would be a change and give her other interests.

  So she hurried up to her room and got busy putting her things in better order, washing out stockings and finally writing a letter to the Scotch woman who had been taking care of her trunk. Poor thing, she must be lonely now that her husband was gone! And she was such a kindly soul, and such a wonderful cook. What would she do now, all alone in the world? Would she try to carry on a boardinghouse alone?

  She wrote her kindly letter, tucking in a dollar bill as thanks for the care of her trunk, and saying she liked her job and hoped someday to be making a good salary, although it wasn’t very large yet.

  Then she hurried to bed and congratulated herself as she lay down that she hadn’t thought about the troublesome property nor her young lawyer once since she came upstairs.

  Chapter 15

  Evadne Laverock bided her time for two days, thinking that perhaps her letter had been misrouted and would at length reach Kent Havenner and would bring her lover in apology to her feet. She loved so much better to put a man in the wrong than to seem to be running after him. But the two days went slowly by and he came not.

  The stay in the city at that season of the year was an utter bore. The house was in a semi-closed state, and her sister was away at the mountains. Moreover there were few of her old acquaintances about at this time of year, and absolutely nothing going on. She must do something. She could not let Kent drift through her fingers this way.

  She would not call up at his seashore home, because she simply detested his sister, and she didn’t want to encounter her again even incognito. So she decided on calling the office.

  But all the satisfaction she got from the office was the information that Mr. Havenner wasn’t in at present, and they did not know how soon he would be in. After an exasperated attempt to get more information from a higher source, she arrayed herself for battle and went forth. It was her experience that she could accomplish a great deal more with a man if he could see her. So she put on her most alluring summer street garments and arrived at the office about eleven o’clock Friday morning.

  She asked for Mr. Havenner and was told as before that he was not in at present. Then she asked for Mr. Edsel and was informed that he was engaged with a client and not to be disturbed. Finally she asked to see Mr. Sanderson. She did not like Mr. Sanderson, but she had to get some action quickly and he was the only one left.

  Now it happened that Mr. Sanderson did not like Miss Laverock even as well as she liked him, and he had hoped that she was permanently out of the picture, for he had said to his partner more than once that if ever Kent married that flibberty-jib he personally was going to find some good excuse to get Kent out of the firm, for he would be absolutely worthless if he married that piece of selfishness.

  So when Evadne came languidly into his austere private office, where he sat frowning at the interruption, and settled her delicate attire in one of his great masculine leather chairs, he almost growled at her as a lion might have done, as if she were too trifling an object to make it worth his while to pause long enough to make even one bite of her.

  “Hello, Sandy,” she addressed him cheerfully. “I’m trying to find Kennie and I can’t get any service out of your minions. I thought I’d be bold and come to headquarters. What have you done with my Kennie?”

  “Your Kennie!” Mr. Sanderson snorted contemptuously. “I wasn’t aware you had left any of your property about our offices. To whom were you referring? Could you by any means mean our Mr. Havenner? I have never heard him called Kennie, but possibly his name might be tortured into that. However, I was not aware that he was your property.”

  “Now, Sandy!” reproached the girl with a languid giggle. “Don’t be dense with your Vad! Of course I mean Kent Havenner.”

  “Kindly omit the ‘Sandy,’ if you please, and I’m quite sure I never called you Vad, or even thought of you in that way. You are not mine in any sense of the word. If it’s Mr. Havenner you’re in search of, you won’t find him here. He’s out of town for a few days. He won’t be back until late Saturday night, if he is then. You’ll have to search elsewhere for him.”

  “Well, but Mister Sanderson, surely you can tell me where to locate him on the telephone? It’s very important!”

  “No, I can’t!” snapped Sanderson. “And I wouldn’t if I could. Mr. Havenner went away on business for the firm, with several destinations in view, and he has no time for frills and follies.”

  He picked up the telephone.

  “Miss Worth, is Mr. Hawkins there yet? Well, send him right in. I’m waiting for him.”

  Then with a stiff bow toward Evadne:

  “Good afternoon, Miss Laverock. I haven’t any more time to discuss this matter with you. Ah! Mr. Hawkins!” as the door opened to let in a client. “Be seated, won’t you? Miss Worth, kindly escort Miss Laverock to the elevator.” And Evadne found herself summarily dismissed. With head up and angry mien she followed the secretary down the hall without a word, her eyes flashing fire. She went back to her sister’s lonely house to plan revenge and meanwhile solace herself with the best a city in summer provides for its worldlings.

  Friday was an unusually busy day at the button counter. There were bargains in clasps and buttons and buckles, odd lots and broken numbers, closing out the summer’s novelties, and getting ready for fall. There was after-hours work, too, which kept Jane until nearly seven, marking the prices on the bargain sales, getting them ready for morning as advertised.

  Feverishly Jane worked to get done as soon as possible. She had a strong hope that her trunk would be at the boardinghouse when she got back, and she was eager to unpack it and look once more upon the beloved possessions. Strangely enough the articles that might prove her identity in connection with the will of her uncle took second place in her mind now. Her great longing was to touch and see once more the possessions that were connected with her dear mother. It was a great overw
helming longing, and now she began to wonder how she had gotten along so long without them.

  But when the work at last was finished and she went to what she now considered “home,” there was no trunk awaiting her in the hall as she had hoped, and there was no letter or explanation of any sort. Well, perhaps it would come tomorrow.

  She went to bed early so that the morrow would come that much the sooner.

  Audrey Havenner had had time on her hands for the last three days. Ballard Bainbridge had been away on a yachting trip with some friends, and while she had not realized how dependent on him she had become for companionship, she found that the days were twice as long when there were not telephone calls suggesting golf, sailing, or swimming. It was not that she was not self-sufficient on occasion, and she had been wanting to do some special reading for a long time, but now that her usual program had failed and she was thrown on her own resources, she discovered that there was altogether too much time for debating with herself whether or not she wanted to let this relationship with Bainbridge go on to its logical conclusion, or whether she wanted to put a stop to it right here and now and have her days fully planned by the time Bainbridge came back, if he came back, so that there would remain no part for him.

  Having looked the facts of the case straight in the face and owned to herself what was the matter, she went and got the books she had been intending to read and settled herself in a breezy hammock on the porch, with a broad stretch of beach and a wider view of the ocean ahead of her. Deliberately she put her mind to the task in hand. She had promised to write a paper for a club meeting in the city that was to be held early in the fall, and this reading was in preparation for that paper. This was a grand time, just made for this preparation. She would work it to the last minute!

 

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