Where Two Ways Met

by Grace Livingston Hill

  Like a balloon that had suddenly been pricked with a pin, he deflated from his blustering.

  “Well, yes, of course,” he said with a tone almost mollified. “That is, if they paid enough. But I had no reason to anticipate any such thing as that. Two of those people have been nothing but a nuisance, always having to be nagged. Well, go ahead, young man, and give us your story. I interrupted you.”

  Paige gravely told his story, beginning with the people in the brick house where the man drank all the money up and the woman went out to sell a piano she didn’t possess to pay her interest. And he knew how to tell a story, so that in spite of his slightly haughty manner in telling it, he held the interest of his boss, who nodded approval as he finished with the foreclosure.

  The boss was frowning when he began on the poor laborer in the road who couldn’t pay, with the pathetic plea of sickness and death, and then the fellow-laborer who went home and got the money to lend to him. Paige told this story so well that the boss actually had tears in his eyes when he had finished, and remarked feelingly, “Now, whaddaya know about that? Not many fellow-laborers would be that generous,” and he took out an expensive handkerchief from his breast pocket and blew his nose hard.

  Paige had been rather dreading the story of the dead man, because by this time he had realized that the Chalmers temper would be more roused by the man who had ignored their several notices than by any of the others, but now in view of his seeming interest in the poor laborer, he took heart of hope, drew a deep breath, and prepared for the worst, if necessary.

  “Well!” snapped the boss, ashamed now of his emotion. “Go ahead! What about the Washburn case? What possible excuse did he have for ignoring all our notices?”

  “He was dead,” said Paige solemnly.

  “Dead?” shouted Chalmers. “Well that’s a new one to pull! How do you know he was dead? Who said so?”

  “Nobody said so, I went to his funeral.”

  “You went to his funeral! Are you kidding, Madison?”

  “No, I’m not kidding,” said Paige gravely. “It was quite unintentional on my part. I went to the address you gave me and asked to see Mr. Washburn. They motioned me to the door of the next room, and there lay Mr. Washburn in his coffin. I realized suddenly that I was at a funeral. Many people were coming in behind me, and there were some already seated. I backed away and tried to get out of the room, but some kindly person motioned me to a chair, and without making a scene, there seemed no way to get out.

  “You can perhaps imagine how I felt, for those first few minutes. After that, the service was so impressive that I completely forgot why I had come.”

  “Did they know you were coming? Had you sent word and made an appointment? You’re sure it wasn’t staged for your benefit?”

  Paige gave his boss a startled, indignant look then answered solemnly, “No, I had not telephoned. I took the train out there and a taxi to the house. I noticed there were a few other cars parked on the street, and some flowers on the porch, but thought nothing of it until suddenly I was in the room and there was the coffin right before me.”

  “Why, how extraordinary!” exclaimed the boss. “And afterward I suppose you got out.”

  “No, they gave me a chair, and the room was full. I didn’t want to make a scene. And afterward I was glad. It was a very wonderful service, and it seemed to me as if God were standing there. I was glad to have had the experience.”

  Chalmers was deeply embarrassed and looked at his young employee in a kind of wonder, seeing that he had really been deeply affected.

  “Well, I’m glad it wasn’t too unpleasant. But afterward, were you able to find out why we hadn’t heard from Mr. Washburn and what we should do to complete this business?”

  “Yes, afterward I talked with Mr. Washburn’s brother Charles, and he took me to our Mr. Washburn’s study, found all our notices still unopened among the mail that had accumulated during his illness, and then we looked in his checkbook and found a check made for us at the date of our first notice, covering the entire loan, interest and all. It seems the brothers had talked it over and decided it was best to pay it all now.”

  “But that check wouldn’t be good now until the estate is settled, of course.”

  “No, and so Mr. Charles Washburn, anxious not to have the widow troubled with the matter, offered to pay the whole check, with interest of course, to get it settled without further trouble for us. It seemed to me that would be what you would think was best, so I accepted it and gave him a receipt. It is a certified check.”

  Paige laid the check down on Chalmers’s desk, together with the roll of money the working man had given him.

  The boss took up the check, counted the money, cleared his throat, and said, “Well, I guess you have done fairly well with your first commission, Madison. I shall know where to find the right man to send again when I have a difficult commission.”

  Paige had risen and was going toward the door, but now he turned back and shook his head.

  “No,” he said. “Never again. It is too soul-trying a job for me. I’m not cut out for that.”

  “Oh, you’d soon get over that squeamishness.”

  “No!” said Paige firmly. “But I’m glad you’re pleased. And now, if you have nothing further, I’ll go back to my desk. There is a big stack of mail over there that needs immediate attention.”

  “Of course, Madison. I understand. But perhaps you’ll arrange to take lunch with me. There may be some other questions I’d like to talk over with you.”

  Paige assented gravely and went back to his office, wondering what might be coming next and thinking that he ought to decide once and for all what he was going to do. This uncertainty was utterly unfitting him for any kind of work. Well, this was all probably ridiculous. Mr. Chalmers was very nice after he finally understood things. Paige had probably misjudged him and had let his own first unpleasant impressions color every thought connected with his job, and he must stop it. He would just go ahead and do what was required of him. Likely, some things that he was being put through now were just training, so that he might be in touch with every branch of the service. Besides, this was no way to face a new life, finding fault with everything that came his way.

  This evening there was a big question he had to consider for the future: how his life was to be different since he had met the Lord. But just now there was his desk full of work, and that must have his undivided attention.

  From time to time he remembered the luncheon he was to share with his boss, and wondered again what was coming next. He found himself with a great crying out in his heart for help toward the God who had seemed so near to him since yesterday. When had he ever, since he was a child, felt like crying out for help to God? Even during the war he had felt more or less that his mother’s prayers would cover all the help he would need. And how was it that now, since he had watched that still presence of God standing beside him, he had learned that there was something he needed that even his mother’s prayers could not provide? It must be his own cry for help, a real cry from a recognized need.

  But he had no time now to consider that. His heart had sent out his cry, and it would be answered when the need came.

  With these resolves made, a great deal of work was accomplished that morning in Madison’s office, and he went with a lighter heart to meet his boss at the appointed place for luncheon.

  It proved to be the University Club, where a few choice spirits in the business world were assembled, and after a pleasant, flattering introduction, they sat down to a luxurious lunch.

  Paige would so much rather have been by himself to think out things and go over yesterday’s experiences, but it seemed that he was in a world just now, whether rightly or wrongly he was not sure, where he had to do what someone else wanted rather than order his life as he would choose. He thought longingly of that bit of a poem now residing in his vest pocket. He would so much have liked to be able to recall it. But that had to wait its time, too.

&n
bsp; So it was no private talk of criticism or new orderings that this luncheon had been planned for, he presently discovered, but a social mingling to introduce him to other well-known businessmen.

  Why? How could that sort of thing make him be of more value to his boss?

  When the little company around the lunch table broke up and the various ones said good-bye and hurried away to their respective offices, Chalmers lingered a few minutes, talking about the club, telling how advantageous it was to any man to belong to it, mentioning various reasons why every young man should belong to a club, and finally ending up by suggesting that he would be glad to propose Paige’s name, if he was agreeable.

  The question was so unexpected that Paige scarcely knew what to say. Was this something he ought to think about and perhaps ask his new Guide? And yet, as long as he was staying with his job and his boss seemed to want this, perhaps he ought to accede to it. Meantime, the boss awaited an answer.

  “Why, that sounds very pleasant and is most kind of you. But—it is something I haven’t ever thought about before. May I think it over for a day or two?”

  Chalmers gave him a quick stare. He had expected his man to be flattered and pleased and accept with alacrity, and here he wanted to think it over. Or was this a bit of lofty pose? He couldn’t quite make up his mind.

  The boss was a bit mortified perhaps, much as his daughter had been, that the younger man didn’t immediately bow down to him, but he answered quite indifferently.

  “Oh, all right. I just mentioned it because I thought it would be good for a young businessman to have some such contacts. It’s a very conservative place, and quite respectable.”

  “Oh, of course. I know its reputation. I was only wondering if I would have the time to come to places like this.”

  “Nonsense!” said the other man. “Of course you’ll have time. And I might often want to ask you to bring one of our customers here for lunch. There couldn’t be a better place to take them—good food, and a fine class of people always come here. It makes a good impression to take a customer to a place like this.”

  “Yes, I see,” said Paige, “and of course if it’s a matter of taking your customers somewhere, I’ll be very glad if you’ll help to make it possible.”

  Mr. Chalmers’s face brightened. For in truth, he had had two reasons for urging this. One was connected with his business as he suggested; the other was at the instigation of his daughter, who had implored him to do something about that new man of his to make him better company. “He’s a perfect stick, Dad! I don’t see how he can be any help in the business world if he can’t get on with young people,” she had said. And to that end, he had taken Paige to the University Club.

  “Very well, Madison, I’ll put your name in at once.”

  Some other businessmen came in then, one a very distinguished man with an international reputation, and Paige found himself being introduced to him and having a few words of very pleasant conversation.

  When they finally went together back to the office, Mr. Chalmers said eagerly, “You see, Madison, that’s the kind of a place it is, where you meet great men from all over the world, and make contacts that do you no end of good when you get down to business.”

  Yes, Paige could see, and felt that he had certainly done the right thing to consent to have an entrée into a place like that.

  On the way home he found himself wondering how the Shambleys were getting on and decided that he would drive out there and find out before night. If Shambley was better, it was about time to do something about getting him a job. Perhaps he had better stop at the house and call up the doctor before going out there. He didn’t want to rush things too much and have the man break down right at the start.

  Then he reviewed the morning hours and recalled to his mind the look on his boss’s face when he got the news of payment instead of foreclosure, and felt again that Chalmers had been disappointed at the outcome. Queer that Chalmers should feel that way. Of course he must be mistaken. There wouldn’t be any reason why Chalmers should want to foreclose. Not unless he owned the house himself! H’m! Perhaps that was it!

  He was thinking about this when he noticed one of the men from the office waiting on the corner for a bus, and knowing the man went his way for some little distance, Paige stopped and invited him to ride.

  The invitation was accepted with alacrity, and they soon fell to talking.

  “Well,” said Grainger, “you’ve been off up Boston way. Pleasant time of year to take a trip like that. How’dya make out? Foreclose everything?”

  Paige smiled.

  “No, not all of them. A couple of them paid up.”

  “You don’t say! Not that Washburn case, I hope. Because that’s practically sold to another party at a stupendous price. Houses are scarce these days, you know, and the day you left, Chalmers called me in and had me write to a party who works with him a good deal, and got the deal all fixed up. Chalmers was going to make a pretty penny on that deal.”

  Paige looked at him, astonished.

  “That’s a bit strange,” he said speculatively. “He didn’t tell me.”

  “No, he wouldn’t likely. He keeps his own counsel, that man. But stop, here’s my corner! Thanks for the lift.” And Grainger was gone. But Paige had something more to think about, and now he was sure he understood the black look that met him when he first told of his dealings in the Washburn case.

  Well, here was another angle to be considered. What would God have him do? Before he went to that funeral, he would not have thought of asking himself that question.

  How he wished that June was at home and that he might talk it all over with her. Was this new life going to involve more perplexities than he was willing to undertake?

  Then he got out the little poem she had sent and read it over, perhaps really taking it in for the first time:

  There is a faith unmixed with doubt,

  A love all free from fear;

  A walk with Jesus, where is felt

  His presence always near.

  There is a rest that God bestows,

  Transcending pardon’s peace,

  A lovely, sweet simplicity,

  Where inward conflicts cease.

  Would he ever get to that place, ever have a faith like that, on which he could rest and inward conflicts would cease?

  Paige drove home and learned that his mother was still at the church at some committee meeting that was lasting overlong. So he called the doctor and found that the Shambley invalids were improving rapidly. The little girl was able to sit up, and the father had been out walking every day for the last two days. The doctor saw no reason why he should not take an easy job, preferably an outdoor one.

  Then Mother Madison came bustling apologetically in, announcing that dinner would be ready in fifteen minutes. Paige went upstairs to freshen up for the evening. He would find out from his mother more about the Shambleys before he went out to see them.

  He snatched a minute or two before he went downstairs to read that little letter from June again, and went down in answer to the dinner bell with a pleasant look on his face, which his anxious mother observed and rejoiced over.

  “And how about the Shambleys, Mother?” he asked. “Have you seen them lately?”

  “Yes, I was up there this morning. They seem to be getting on all right, only Nannie is brokenhearted that her beloved teacher has gone away.”

  “Of course,” said Paige in a tone of sympathy. “By the way, Mother, do you have any idea when she is coming back?”

  “Why no, her mother seemed to think it might be some time, as she has to stay there till her cousin is discharged from the army. She’s a WAC or a WAVE or something.”

  “I see. Well, I wonder if you can find out her address for me? She wrote me a note saying she was called away, but she failed to give me any address to reply, and I want to thank her for a poem she sent that I had asked for.”

  “Why of course I can get it for you,” said the mother comforta
bly. She did her best to keep the satisfaction out of her voice. It certainly was nice that Paige wanted to write to a girl like June.

  After dinner Paige took a quick drive up to the Shambleys’s and found to his joy that Mr. Shambley was working in his own garden. He looked up with a smile to greet his benefactor.

  “Well, sir, I got me a job. Whaddaya know about that?” he said. “I start to work a-Monday, down at the filling station, and it’s good pay, too. I think I can begin ta pay ye back pretty soon.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” said Paige. “I’m glad you’ve got a job. Are you sure you ought to begin so soon?”

  “Yes, the doctor said it was all right.” His face fairly shone with new joy and vigor.

  Paige talked cheerily with his protégé for a few minutes, took a brief glimpse of the little girl sitting up in her invalid chair by the window, talked a few minutes with the sad little mother, her face now wreathed with smiles, whistled for the boy and asked a few questions about the duties he had left for him to do when he went away, slipped him a silver dollar for any errands he might have to go on, and then hurried home. What he wanted to do now was to write to June. Going to the Shambleys’s had made him doubly anxious to talk to her.

  But as he turned in at the drive, he saw the Chalmerses’ car drawing up in front of the house. He hurried to park his own car and lock the garage door. He wanted to get upstairs before anybody saw him, so that he wouldn’t be interrupted. He made a dash for the back door, stole softly into the kitchen, and slid up the back stairs cautiously. But as he passed silently across the top of the front stairs, he heard a voice and a laugh that filled him with disgust. That false laugh! And what had she come here for? Was it a message from her father? In which case he would have to see her, of course. Or was it some of her own fool nonsense? In which case he would lie low and not see her.