y'g.g miiiiiiiiiunmmiMmm'mimw'M*'Mm TIME ll-MI'lMltUIi' ROBERT E. VLES CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY FROM yiss Aiigusta Williams and "'rs. J. H. Tanner PR9299.K73W3"lMr''''"'^ The web of time, 3 1924 013 243 542 Cornell University Library The original of tliis book is in tlie Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013243542 THE WEB OF TIME By Robert E. Knowles The Web of Time Cloth, ^1.60. Mr. Knowles has been aptly described both in this country and in Scotland as the "Ian Mac- laren" of Canada. Certain it is that out of his parish he has pictured a type of rugged, honest, C5od fearing people that -will take rank with well known characters of "The Bonnie Briei; Bush" or "The Little Minister." His latest novel deals with this same sort of people. It will add to Mr. Knowles' enviable reputation as a novelist who is well worth knowing. The Dawn at Shanty Bay- Decorated and Illustrated by Griselda M. McClure. Cloth, boxed, net ;J!1.00. "A moving tale in which strong appeals are made to the deepest feelings of human nature. It is a Christmas tale, but it has lessons that may be learned with profit at any_ season. In addition, it is written in the most fascinating style.— "Denver Republican, The Undertow A Tale of both Sides of the Sea. Third Edition. Cloth, ^1.50. "The reader's interest is strongly held from the beginning. What is really the best part of the author's work is that which has to do in bringing out so finely and strongly the sharply denned characteristics of a Canadian-Scotch nome." — Chicago Evening Past. St. Cuthbert's A Parish Romance. Tenth Edition. Cloth, SI .50. "What Ian Maclaren has done for his Scotch parish and what Barrie has done for Thrums, that Robert E. Knowles has done for his Canadian church folks. Mr. Knowles has written with a rare sense of humor which is not to be overlooked. Beyond the kindly humor of the sketches, they are in part as instinct with sentiment and pathos. It is a new field of romantic interest Mr. Knowles opens up in St. Cuthbert's."— .(^/^awy Argus. THE WEB OF TIME By ROBERT E. KNOWLES Author of " St. Cuthiert's," "The Undertow," " The Dawn at Shanty Bay " New York Chicago Toronto Fleming H. Rev ell Company London and Edinburgh Copyright, 1908, by FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY /|7<^..^/^,.Vr New York: 158 Fifth Avenue Chicago: 80 Wabash Avenue Toronto: 35 Richmond Street, W. London: 21 Paternoster Square Edinburgh: 100 Princes Street To My Daughter Elizabeth Ellis Knox Knowles whose gentle hands guided from afar have woven many a golden strand into lif^s mys- terious web this book is dedi- cated with unuttered fondness CONTENTS I. The Ashes on the Hearth 9 II. The Wine-Press Alone . 21 III. Love's Labourer • 25 IV. The Riches of the Poor 36 V. A Flow of Soul 45 VI. An Investment • 55 VII. " Effectual Calling " . 61 VIII. Of Such is the Kingdom 72 IX. A Belated Enquirer 80 X. Sheltering Shadows 89 XI. Food for Thought 97 XII. The Encircling Gloom . IIO XIII. The Dews of Sorrow 123 XIV. The Weighing of the Anchor 131 XV. A Parental Parley 151 XVI. David the Diplomat 159 XVII. Friendship's Ministry 170 XVIII. Voices of the Past . 182 XIX. A Brush With Death . 200 XX. The Restoring of a Soul 211 XXI. A Heated Debate . . . . 7 217 8 CONTENTS XXII. Breakers Ahead • 231 XXIII. Ingenuity of Love . 246 XXIV. The Victor's Spoils . . 267 XXV. What Made the Ball so Fine ' 283 XXVI. "The Fair Sweet MoR^ Awakes" 295 XXVII. A Brother's Mastery 307 XXVIII. A Light at Midnight • 3H XXIX. How David Swept the Field 325 XXX. A Journalist's Injunctions 336 XXXI. The Trough of the Wave 346 XXXII. Harvey's Unseen Deliverer 359 XXXIII. Plain Living and High Think- ing 368 XXXIV. The Overflowing Hour . 379 XXXV. " Into His House of Wine " 389 XXXVI. A Mistress of Finance 393 XXXVII. The Conqueror's Home-Going . 400 XXXVIII. The Fleeing Shadows 408 THE WEB OF TIME THE ASHES ON THE HEARfH ""1^ T"^' f^th^^'S "ot home yet — go to sleep, I ^W^ dear," and the mother-hand tucked the Jl. ^ clothes securely about the two snuggling forms ; " don't ask any more, Harvey, or you'll waken Jessie — and go to sleep." Mrs. Simmons went back to the kitchen, crooning softly to the wakeful baby in her arms. Glancing at the clock, she marked, with an exclamation of sur- prise, how late it was. " He might be in any minute now," she said to herself as she thrust in another stick for the encouragement of the already steaming kettle. Then she busied herself a few minutes about the table ; a brief pause, as if pondering, ended in her moving quickly towards the pantry, emerg- ing a moment later with some little luxury in her hand. " Poor Ned, this night-work seems so hard — if he's working at all," she thought to herself, " and he'll be cold and tired when he comes in — hush, baby, isn't 9 lo THE WEB OF TIME that your father ? " as she laid a finger on the crow- ing lips. The footfall came nearer, firm and steady, too — at which the anxious face lighted up ; but a moment later it was gone, and silence reigned again. The baby seemed, in some mysterious way, to share the disappointment ; in any case, it became suddenly quiet, the big blue eyes gazing up at the mother's. The unfathomed depths, as such depths are prone to do, seemed to start some hidden springs of thought in the woman's mind; for the anxious eyes that peered into them were now suffused with tears, then bright again with maternal fondness as she clasped the infant to her breast. For she dreaded the home-coming of her husband, even while she longed for it. The greatest of all books assures us that fear is cast out by love — but love may still fear something in the very one it loves above all others ; some alien habit, some sin that changes the whole complexion of a soul. And thus was it with the wife who now awaited her husband's coming with a troubled heart. It had not been ever thus. Far different had it been in the happy days with which her thoughts were busy now as she moved hither and thither, do- ing what deft and loving hands could do to make all bright and cheery before her husband should arrive. Those vanished days had been happy ones indeed, with nothing to cloud their joy. When Edward Simmons first crossed her path, she knew that her hour of destiny had come. He was the ASHES on The HEARTH ii only a journeyman printer — but he was handsome and chivalrous and fascinating ; sensitive to the last degree, imperious by nature, but tender in the ex- pression of his love for her. And how rapturously sure of the happiness that lay before them both ! Passionate in temper he undoubtedly was — but tide- ful natures ever are. And he was slower to forgive himself than others. She had been little more than a girl, a fatherless girl, when first she met Edward Simmons — Ned, as his friends all called him — and in less than a year after their meeting she gave herself to him forever. Then her real life began, she thought ; but before a year had passed, it was new-quickened and enriched beyond all of which she had ever dreamed. Her first-born son came to swell the fullness of her joy, and Eden itself broke into flower at his coming. The anguish and the ecstasy of motherhood had come twice, again since then — and she marvelled at the new spring of love that each new baby hand smites in the wilderness of life. But the sky had darkened. When at its very brightest, the clouds had gathered. Steady employ- ment and good wages and careful management had enabled her to garner a little, month by month ; womanlike, she was already taking thought of how Harvey should be educated. And just when every- thing seemed prosperous, that awful trouble had come among the printers — between the masters and the men. Then came strikes and idleness — work by spasmodic starts, followed by new upheavals and 12 THE WEB OF TIME deepening bitterness — and Ned had been more with the muttering men than with his Annie and the children. And — this was so much worse — he had gradually fallen a victim to a sterner foe. A tainted breath at first ; later on, thick and confused utterance when he came home at night ; by and by, the unsteady gait and the clouded brain — one by one the dread symptoms had become apparent to her. She had known, when she married, that his father had been a drinker ; and one or two of her friends had hinted darkly about hereditary appetite — but she had laughed at their fears. Hereditary or not, the passion was upon him — and growing. Lack of work proved no barrier. Little by little, he had prevailed on her to give him of her hard-saved treasure, till the little fund in the post-office savings was seriously reduced. But there was another feature, darker still. It had changed him so. His whole moral nature had suffered loss. No wonder the woman's face bore tokens of anxiety as she waited and watched through the long midnight hours ; for drink always seemed to clothe her husband with a kind of savagery foreign to his nature, and more than once she had trembled before his glance and shuddered at his words. Against this, even her love seemed power- less to avail ; for — and it is often so with the mysterious woman-heart — she seemed but to love him the more devotedly as she felt him drifting out to sea. She could only stretch vain hands towards the 7he ASHES on The HEARTH i? cruel billows amid which she could see his face — but the face she saw was ever that of happier days. Suddenly she started, her heart leaping like a hunted hare as she heard, far-off, clear sounding through the stillness of the night, the footfall she was waiting for. The child's eyes seemed to fasten themselves upon the mother's as if they caught the new light that suddenly gleamed within them ; she held her babe close as she went swiftly to the door and slipped out into the night. The silent stars looked down on the poor trembling form as she stood and waited, shivering some — but not with cold — listening for the verdict her ears must be the first to catch. She had not long to wait ; and the verdict would have been plain to any who could have seen her face as she turned a moment later and crept back into the house. The stamp of anguish was upon it ; yet, mechanically, the babe's eyes still on hers, she took up the little teapot and poured in the boiling water — the kettle went on with its monotonous melody. She had just time to hurry up and steal a glance at the children ; they were asleep, thank God. The baby turned its eyes towards the door as the shambling feet came up to it and the unsteady hand lifted the latch. The mother pretended to be busied about the table, but the eager eyes stole a quick glance at her husband, darkening with sorrow as they looked. The man threw off his coat as soon as he entered. 14 THE WEB OF TIME " I'm hungry," he said in a thick, unnatural voice. " I've got your supper all ready, dear," the woman's low voice returned. She tried hard to keep it steady ; " and I'll just pour the tea. Are you tired, Ned ? " He did not answer. Staggering towards the table, he began eating coarsely, still upon his feet. " To- day's been the devil," he muttered ; " I can't eat, I tell you — there's only one thing I want, and I've had too much of that. But I've got to have it." " You didn't speak to baby, Ned," she said timidly, trying to come closer to him, yet shrinking instinctively ; " see how she jumps in my arms — she knows you, Ned." " I wish she'd never been born," the man said brutally ; " it'll only be another hungry mouth — how much have we left in the savings ? " " And she was trying to say ' daddy ' to-day — and once I'm sure she did," the mother went on, fearful of his quest and hoping to beguile him thus. " What's that got to do with it ? " he demanded angrily, commanding his words with difficulty. " The strikers had to give in — and we went back to- day. An' the bosses won't take us on again — they've sacked us, damn them, and every man of us has to come home to his hungry kids. How much is left out o' what we've saved ? " he repeated, tast- ing a cup of tea, only to let it fall from his shak- ing hand so suddenly that it was spilled about the table. ;; " There's about three hundred, Ned," she said The ASHES on The HEARTH 15 hesitatingly. " We did have nearly five, you know — we've used such a lot of it lately." " I want some of it," he said gruffly. " I've got to pay into the fund for the men — and anyhow, I want money. Who earned it if it wasn't me ? " " Oh, Ned," she began pleadingly, " please don't — please don't make me, dear. It's all we've got — and it's taken so long to save it ; and if times get worse — if you don't get work ? " The pitiful debate was waged a little longer. Suddenly she noticed — but could not understand — a peculiar change that came slowly over his counte- nance. " Maybe you're right," he said at last, a leer of cunning on his face. " There ain't goin' to be any quarrellin' between us, is there ? We'll see about it to-morrow." His whole tactics changed in a moment, the better to achieve his purpose. " You've always stood by me, Annie, an' you won't go back on me now. Hello, baby," as he tried to snap his limp fingers, coming closer to the two. The child laughed and held out its arms. The father's feet scraped heavily on the floor as he shuffled towards it. " It knows its dad all right," he said in maudlin merriment ; " glad to see its old dad — if he did get fired. Come, baby, come to your old dad," and he reached out both hands to take it. The mother's terror was written in her eyes. " Oh, don't, Ned—don't, please," she said ; " she'll catch cold — I've got her all wrapped up." " I'll keep the blanket round her," he mumbled ; i6 THE WEB OF TIME " come to your old dad, baby," his voice rising a little. But his wife drew back. " Please don't to-night, Ned," she remonstrated ; " it'll only excite her more — and I can't get her to sleep," she pleaded evasively. His heavy eyes flashed a little. " I want that young 'un," he said sullenly, advancing a little ; " I ain't goin' to eat her." The mother retreated farther, her lips white and set, her eyes leaping from the babe's face to its father's. " I can't, Ned," she said ; " let us both carry her, dear; come, we'll make a chair of our hands, like we used to do for Harvey — and I'll keep my arm about her, so," and she held out one hand, holding the baby firm with the other. He struck it down. " Give me that young 'un," he said, his nostrils dilating, his voice shaky and shrill. She stood like a wild thing at bay. " I won't. Ned, I won't," her voice rang out ; " good God, Ned, it isn't safe — go back," she cried, her voice ringing like a trumpet as she held the now terrified infant to her breast, the child rising and falling as her bosom heaved in terror. His eyes, unsteady now no longer, never left her face as he moved with a strange dexterity nearer and nearer to them both. The woman glanced one mo- ment into the lurking depths, all aflame with the awful light that drunkenness and anger combine to give, saw the outstretched hand, felt the fumes oyt- breathing from the parted lips — and with a low fhe ASHES on The HEARTH 17 gurgling cry she sprang like a wounded deer towards the door. But he was too quick for her, flinging himself headlong against it. Aroused and maddened by the fall, he was on his feet in an instant, clutching at her skirt as he arose. " Give me that young 'un," he said hoarsely ; " damn me, we'll see whose child this is." The woman's lips surged with the low moaning that never ceased as the unequal struggle raged a moment, the helpless babe contributing its note of sorrow. Suddenly the man got his hands firmly on the little arms; and the mother, her instinct quick and sensitive, half relaxed her hold as she felt the dreadful wrenching of the maddened hands. With a gasp he tore the baby from her, reeling backward as the strain was suddenly relaxed. Struggling desperately, he strove to recover himself. But the strain had been too much for the ruined nerves. The child fell from his hands, the man's arms going high into the air; an instant later he slipped and tottered heavily to the floor, the woman springing towards them as his outclutching hands seized her and bore her heavily down, the man now between the two, the silent infant beneath the struggling pair. She was on her feet in the twinkling of an eye, tearing him aside with superhuman strength. But the baby lay in the long last stillness ; its brief troubled pilgrimage was at an end. And the little dreamers up-stairs still slept on in uncaring slumber — nor knew that their long rough journey was at i8 THE WEB OF TIME hand. And the kettle on the stove still murmured its unconscious song. The evil spirit had departed from the man. It had gone forth with the destroying angel, both with their dread work well performed. And the man knew — with preternatural acuteness he interpreted his handiwork in an instant. And they knelt together — that is the wonder of it — together, above the baby form. Both noted the dimpled hand, and the rosebud mouth — both touched the flaxen hair. No word of chiding fell — from the mother's lips nothing but an inarticulate broken flow, sometimes altogether still, like the gurgling of an ice- choked brook. But he was the first to declare that the child was dead, maintaining it fiercely, his eye aglow now with another light, so different from the weird lustre that drunkenness provides. And she would not believe it, dropping one tiny hand that she might chafe the other, lest death might get advantage in the chase. She was still thus engaged when he arose and looked about the room for his hat. It was lying where he had flung it when he came in an eternity ago. " Good-bye — till — till the judgment day," he said huskily, standing above her, something of the wildly supernatural in the tone. He waited long — but she spoke no word, nor lifted her eyes from the dead face, nor relinquished her stern struggle with the complacent Conqueror. 7he ASHES on The HEARTH 19 He went out — and was gone with steady step. She knew it not. Perhaps it was about half an hour later when he returned, opening the door gently and passing her swiftly by. He did not pause, did not even remove his hat — but went quickly and softly up the stairs. Then he lighted a match, shading it at first with his hands lest it should wake the shut eyes — and while it lent its fleeting hght the mur- derer drank deep of his children's faces. Then the darkness swallowed them up, and he groped his way down-stairs and passed out into the night. It was still dark when she at last surrendered — but to God. And the fire was black and the house was cold when she too went out, closing the door care- fully behind her. She groped about the little porch, feeling in every corner ; and she examined the tiny veranda, and searched through all the neglected garden ; she even noticed the fragrance of some simple flowers — they had planted them together, and the children had helped in turn, having one toy spade between them. But it was all empty, all still. " Oh, Ned," she cried softly, passionately, her hands outstretched beneath the all-seeing stars, her face now the face of age, " oh, Ned, come back — you didn't mean to do it and you didn't know. Come back, Ned," she cried a little louder, " come back to Harvey and Jessie — they'll never know. Oh, Ned," as the outstretched hands were withdrawn and pressed quickly against her bosom. For it pained her — with its mother-burden — and she turned to go 20 rHE WEB OF TIME back to her baby. Then she saw its still face in the darkness — and her hands went out again towards the night. The silent stars looked down, pitying, help- less ; she went back to her fatherless and her God. II THE IVINE-PRESS ALONE " t ■""^HE woman's name's Simmons, sir — an' she I took the whole o' this half plot. She JL keeps a httle store, mostly sweeties, I think," said Hutchins, as he laid his spade against the fence. " An' there wasn't no funeral — just her an' her two children ; she brought the little one here from the city — that's where it was buried afore she came here to live." His chief asked the labourer a question in a low voice. " Oh, yes, that was all right," the man answered, picking an old leaf from a geranium plant as he-spoke. " She showed me the original certificate she got in the city — or a copy of it, leastways ; it said the baby came to its death from a fall on the floor. So that was all right — I asked the chairman. I couldn't help feelin' sorry for the woman, sir ; she took on as bad as if it was new. An' the two little shavers was playin' hide an' seek round the tombstones afore I got the little grave filled in — she seemed to be ter- ribly alone. It's funny, sir, how hard it is to get used to this business — I often says to my missus as how no man with kids of his own has any license to hire here," and the kindly executioner went off, spade 21 22 THE WEB OF TIME in hand, to make a new wound in the oft-riven bosom of God's hospitable earth. The hired helper had told about all that was known in Glenallen concerning their new townswoman. In- deed, rather more ; for comparatively few knew any- thing of the little family gathering that had stood one early morning beside the tiny grave. The village was small — .Glenallen had not yet achieved its fond hope that it would outgrow the humiliating state of villagehood — and its inhabitants were correspondingly well posted in the source, and antecedents, and attend- ant circumstances of all who came to dwell among them. But almost all they could ascertain regarding Mrs. Simmons was that she had come from the city, that she had two children living — as far as they could learn, their father was dead — that she had some scanty means with which she had embarked on the humble enterprise that was to provide her daily bread. And thus far they were correct enough. For the first darkness of the great tragedy had no sooner overswept her than she began to shrink with an un- speakable aversion from all that was associated with the old life that had now no memory but pain. Her heart turned with wistful yearning towards some spot where she might live again the simple country life she had known in the early days of childhood. The cold selfishness of the city chilled her to the soul. She longed for some quiet country place — such as Glen- allen was — where she might make a living, and live more cheaply; where her children might have a ■The WINE-PRESS ALONE 23 chance ; where the beauty of God's world might do its share of heahng. She had known but few in the city, simple folk — and they had seemed to care but little. Yet they had to be kept in the dark ; and the careful story of her baby's fall had been an often crucifixion. They thought her husband had suddenly been crazed with grief, hinting sometimes at the cowardice of his desertion — and she made no protest, dissembling with ingenious love for his sake and her children's. Few were aware when she left the city, and fewer seemed to care. She had little to bring — one sacred treasure was her chiefest burden — and it slept now beside her. And Harvey and Jessie must not know that their father was alive — not yet. They would have enough to bear ; and moreover, who could tell ? In any case, was he not dead to them ? She never knew exactly what was the cause of it — whether blow or shock — nor did she care ; but she trembled for her children as it became more and more certain that her eyesight was failing. It had begun to be impaired soon after that very night. Yet she went bravely on, clinging to her little ones, clinging to life, clinging to hope — even to joy, in a dim, instinc- tive way. And ever, night and day, she guarded the dread secret ; ever, night and day, she cherished the hope that her eyes might look again, if God should spare their light, upon the face she had last seen with that awful look upon it as it came nearer and nearer to her own. So her lips were set tight, lest any re- yeahng word should escape to any soul on earth. 24 THE WEB OF TIME And it was not long till the curious residents of Glenallen felt that the stranger among them was ac- quainted with grief — but of what sort it was, the most vigilant never knew. Thus did she tread the wine- press alone, pressing silently along the upward path of pain. And thus had the years gone by. Ill LOME'S LABOURER. " ^""^ UT him off another piece, mother — a bigger 1 piece ; that there chunk wouldn't satisfy a ^^--^ pigeon. Fruit-cake isn't very fiUin' — not to a boy, leastways, and there's nothin' lonelier than one piece of cake inside of a boy that's built for nine or ten." Mr. Borland's merry eyes turned first upon his wife's face as he made his plea, then wandered towards a distant field, resting upon the diminutive figure of a boy. " Oh, David," answered his wife, her tone indicating a measure of shock, " you're so vivid with your illus- trations. It isn't artistic — I mean about — about those inside matters," as she smiled, rather than frowned, her mild reproof. " That's all right, mother ; it's true to life, anyhow — an' it all deals with his inner bein' ; it tells of suf- ferin' humanity," rejoined her husband. " The smaller the boy, the bigger the hunk — that's a safe rule when you're dealin' in cake. Bully for you, mother — that there slice'll come nearer fittin' him," he concluded jubilantly, as his wife completed a piece of surgery more generous than before. •' Who was it hired Harvey to pick potatoes, 25 26 THE WEB OF TIME father?" inquired Mrs. Borland. " How can he eat this without washing his hands ? " she continued, al- most in the same breath ; " it's such dirty work." " You just watch him ; that won't trouble him much. Boys love sand. It was me that hired him, Martha. He come right up to me on the street an' took off his hat like I was an earl : ' Can you give me any work to do, Mr. Borland ? ' he says. ' I'm going to make enough money to make mother's eyes well,' an' the little fellow looked so earnest an' so manly, I fair hated to tell him the only kind of job I could give him. I just hated to. But I told him I wanted some one to pick potatoes. An' Harvey brightened right up. ' All right, Mr. Borland,' he says, ' I'll come. I'm awful fond of potatoes, an' I can pick two at a time — three, if they're not too big,' he says, an' I couldn't keep from laughin' to save my- self" " What's the matter with his mother's eyes ? " asked Mrs. Borland, as she tore the front page from the weekly paper, preparing to wrap it about the cake. " I didn't like to ask him. The little fellow seemed to feel real bad about it — an' I never did like to probe into things that hurt," rephed her husband. " Even when I was a boy at school, I never could stand seein' a fellow show where he stubbed his toe," con- tinued the homely philosopher, reaching out his hand for the little parcel. " There was one thing about the boy that took me wonderful," he went on ; "I asked him would he work by the day or by the bushel, an' he said right quick as how he'd do it by the bushel — LOIRE'S LABOURER 27 I cilways like those fellows best that prefers to work by the job. Hello, there, old sport," he suddenly digressed as a noise from behind attracted him, " an' where did you come from ? You're always turnin' up at cake time. I thought you were goin' to ride to Branchton," glancing as he spoke at the riding whip the girl held in her hand. Full of merry laughter were the eyes, so like his own, that sparkled upward towards her father's face. The wild sweet breath of happy girlhood came pant- ing from her lips, half breathless with eager haste ; while the golden hair, contrasting well with the rosy tide that sufifused her cheek, and falling dishevelled on her shoulders, and the very aroma of health and vitality that distilled from her whole form, tall and lithe and graceful as it was, might amply justify the pride that marked her father's gaze. " So I was," the chiming voice rejoined. " But I turned back. I despise a coward." The eyes flashed as she spoke. " And Cecil Craig's one — he's a real one," she elaborated warmly. " We met a threshing engine half-way out — and of course I was going to ride past it. But he wouldn't — he got off and tied his horse to a tree. And it broke the lines and got away. I was so glad — and I rode on, and Doctor threw me," rubbing her knee sympathetically as she spoke ; " that's what made me so glad his own horse got away," she affirmed savagely, " and the two engine men stopped and caught Doctor for me and I got on him again — astride this time — and I made him walk right up and smell the engine ; and Cecil had to walk 28 THE WEB OF TIME home. The men told him to touch himself up with his whip and it wouldn't take him long — and that made him awful mad. You see, they knew he was a coward. Who's that fruit-cake for ? " she inquired suddenly, flinging her gloves vigorously towards the hat-stand. " I'll just try a piece myself — fruit-cake's good for a sore knee," and she attacked it with the dexterity that marks the opening teens. " It's for a little boy that's workin' in the field — little Harvey Simmons. He's pickin' potatoes, an' I thought a little refreshment wouldn't hurt him," her father answered, pointing fieldward as he spoke. " I know him," the maiden mumbled, her mouth full of the chosen remedy ; " he goes to school — and he always spells everybody down," she added as en- thusiastically as the aforesaid treatment would per- mit. " Let me take it out to him, father," the utter- ance clearing somewhat. The father was already handing her the dainty par- cel when her mother intervened. " No, Madeline, it's not necessary for you to take it. It's hardly the cor- rect thing, child ; I'll call Julia — she can take it out." " ' Tisn't necessary, mother," quoted her husband. " I want this here cake to mean something. I'll just take it myself," and in a moment he was striding en- ergetically across the intervening paddock, the untir- ing form of the little labourer alternately rising and falling as he plied his laborious toil. " Your father is the best-hearted man in the county, Madeline," Mrs. Borland ventured when her husband was out of hearing. LOFE'S LABOURER 29 " He's the best man in the world," the girl amended fervently ; " and Cecil says his father's a member of the Church and mine isn't," she went on more vehemently ; " he said father didn't beheve the right things — and I just told him they weren't the right things if my father didn't believe them, and I wouldn't believe them either," the youthful heretic affirmed. " Lally Kerr told me Cecil's father made some poor people give him money for rent that they needed for a stove — I didn't want to tell Cecil that, but when he said his father believed all the right things I told him my father did all the good things, and he was kind to the poor — and I told him he was kind to them because he was poor once himself and used to work so hard with his hands, and " " Why, child," and the mother frowned a little, " where did you get that idea ? Who told you that?" " Father told me," replied the child promptly. " He told me himself, and I think I heard him tell- ing Cecil's father that once too — Cecil's father wanted not to give so much money to the men that worked for him. I think they were talking about that, and that was when father said it," the uncon- scious face looking proudly up into her mother's. " You don't need to speak about it, dear ; it doesn't sound well to be — to be boasting about your father, you know. Now run away and get ready for lunch ; father '11 be back in a minute." The child turned to go upstairs, singing as she went, forgetful of the mild debate and blissfully 30 THE WEB OF TIME ignorant of all the human tumult that lay behind it, conscious only of a vague happiness at thought of the great heart whose cause she had championed in her childish way. Less of contented joy was on the mother's face as she looked with half exultant eyes upon the luxury about her, trophies of the wealth that had been so welcome though so late. Prompted by the conversation with Madeline, her mind roamed swiftly over the bygone years ; the privations of her early married life, the growing comfort that her husband's toil had brought, the trembling venture into the world of manufacture, the ensuing struggle, the impending failure, the turning tide, the abundant flow that followed — and all the fairy-land into which increasing wealth had borne her. Of all this she thought as she stood amid the spoils — and of the altered ways and loftier friends, of the whirl and charm of fashion, of the bewilder- ing entrance into such circles of society as their little town afforded, long envied from afar, now pouring their wine and oil into still unhealing wounds. Dimly, too, it was borne in upon her that her hus- band's heart, lagging behind her own, had been con- tent to tarry among the simple realities of old, unspoiled by the tardy success that had brought with it no sense of shame for the humble days of yore, and had left unaltered the simplicity of an honest, kindly heart. Her husband, in the meantime, had arrived at the side of his youthful employee, his pace quickening as he came nearer to the lad, the corners of his LOKE'S LABOURER 31 mouth relaxing in a sort of unconscious smile that bespoke the pleasure the errand gave him. Ab- sorbed in his work, and hearing only the rattle of the potatoes as they fell steadily into the pail beside him, the boy had not caught the approaching foot- falls ; he gave a little jump as Mr. Borland called him by his name. " Here's a little something for you, my boy — the missus sent it out." Harvey straightened himself up, clapped his hands together to shake the dust from them, and gravely thanked his employer as he received the little package. Slowly unwrapping it, his eye brightened as it fell on a sight so unfamiliar ; in an instant one of the slices was at his lips, a gaping wound in evidence as it was withdrawn. A moment later the boy ceased chewing, then slowly resumed the operation ; but now the paper was refolded over the remaining cake, and Harvey gently stowed it away in the pocket of his blouse. " What's the matter ? " inquired Mr. Borland anxiously. " Aren't you well — or isn't it good ? " The boy smiled his answer ; other reply was un- necessary and inadequate. " Goin' to take it home ? " the man asked curiously. " No, sir. I'm just going to keep it a little while," the youngster replied, looking manfully upward as he spoke, a little gulp bespeaking the final doom of the morsel he had taken. " You don't mind, sir ? " he added respectfully. }2 THE WEB OF TIME " Me mind ! What would I mind for ? You're quite right, my boy — it's a mighty good thing when a fellow finds out as young as you are that he can't eat his cake and have it too ; it takes most of us a lifetime to learn that. How old are you, Harvey — isn't that your name ? " " Yes, sir. I'm most fourteen," the boy answered, stooping again to resume his work. " Do you go to school ? " the man inquired pres- ently. " Mostly in the winter, sir ; not very much in the summer. But I do all I can. You see, I have to help my mother in the store when she needs me. But I'm going to try the entrance next summer," he added quickly, the light of ambition on his face. " Where is your mother's store ? " asked Mr. Bor- land. " It's that little store on George Street, next to the Chinese laundry. It has a red door — and there's a candy monkey in the window," he hastened to add, this last identification proffered with much en- thusiasm. A considerable silence followed, broken only by the rattling potatoes as they fell. " Mr. Borland, could you give me work in your factory ? " the boy inquired suddenly, not pausing for an instant in his work. " In the factory ! " echoed Mr. Borland. " I thought you were going to school." " I could work after four," replied the boy. " There's two hours left." LOIRE'S LABOURER 33 Mr. Borland gazed thoughtfully for a moment. " 'Twouldn't leave you much time to play," he said, smiling down at Harvey. " I don't need an awful lot of play," the boy re- turned gravely ; " I never got very much used to it. Besides, I've got a lot of games when I'm delivering little parcels for mother — games that I made up my- self. Sometimes I play I'm going round calling sol- diers out because there's going to be a war — and sometimes I play I'm Death," he added solemnly. " Play you're Death ! " cried the startled man. " What on earth do you mean by that ? I thought no one ever played that game but once," he con- cluded, as much to himself as to the boy. " Oh, it's this way, you see — it's one of the head- lines in the copy-book that pale Death knocks with — with — impartial steps at the big houses and the lit- tle cottages — something like that, anyhow. And it's a good deal the same with me," the boy responded gravely, looking up a moment as he spoke. " It's a real interesting game when you understand it. Of course I'm not very pale," he continued slowly, " but I can feel pretty pale when I want to," he concluded, smiling at the fancy. Mr. Borland was decidedly interested. And well he might have been. For there was just enough of the same mystic fire in his own heart, untutored though it was, to reveal to him the beauty that glowed upon the boyish face before him. The lad was tall for his years, well-formed, lithe, muscular ; dishevelled by his stooping toil, a wealth of nut-brown 34 THE WEB OF TIME hair fell over an ample forehead, almost overshading the large blue eyes that were filled with the peculiar shining light which portrays the poetic mind. His features were large, not marked by any particular re- finement, significant rather of the necessity — yet also of the capacity — for moral struggle; distended nostrils, marking fullness of life and passion, sensitive to the varying emotions that showed first in the wonderful eyes ; a deep furrow ran from nose to lips, the latter large and full of rich red blood, but finely formed, curving away to delicate expression at either side, significant of a nature keenly alive to all that life might have to give — such lips as eloquence requires, yet fitted well together, expressive of an inner spirit capable of the firmness it might sorely need. " Could you drive a horse, lad ? " the man suddenly inquired, after a long survey of the unconscious youth. Harvey hesitated. " I think I could, sir, if the horse was willing. Sometimes we play horse at school, and I get along pretty well." Mr. Borland looked keenly, but in vain, for any trace of merriment on the half-hidden face. " I drove the butcher boy's horse once or twice, too. And I managed all right, except when it backed up — I hate to drive them when they're backing up," the boy added seriously, with the air of an experi- enced horseman. Mr. Borland laughed. " That's jest where it comes in," he said ; " any one can drive anything when it's goin' ahead — it's when things is goin' back that tries LOyE'S LABOURER 33 your mettle. I'll see what I can do. Some of our horses drives frontwards — horses is pretty evenly divided between the kind that goes frontwards and them that won't," he mused aloud as he walked away. " I've struck a heap of the last kind — they backed up pretty hard when I was your age," Harvey could just overhear as he plucked the dead vines from another mound and outthrew its lurking treasures. IV THE RICHES OF THE POOR THE retreating figure had no sooner gained the house in the distance than Harvey began to cast glances, eager and expectant, towards the road that skirted the outer edge of the field in which he was working. Once or twice he straightened up, wincing a little with the ache that long stooping brings, and peered intently towards the top of a distant hill beyond which he could not see. Suddenly his eye brightened, and a muffled exclamation of pleasure broke from his lips, for the vision he longed for had appeared. Yet it was com- monplace enough — only a coloured sunbonnet, some four or five feet from the ground, and swaying a little uncertainly in the noontide light. But it was mov- ing nearer, ever nearer, to the waiting boy, who knew the love that lent strength to the little feet and girded the tiny hands which bore something for himself. The girlish form was now well beyond the curv- ing hill, trudging bravely on ; and Harvey saw, or thought he saw, the happy smile upon the eager face, the pace quickening as she caught sight of her brother in the distance. Harvey's eyes filled with tenderness as he gazed upon the approaching child ; 36 The RICHES of The POOR 37 for the poor, if they love and are loved again, know more of life's real wealth than the deluded rich. A few minutes more and shfe was at the bars, panting but radiant. Harvey ran to lay them down, taking the bundles from her hands. " Oh, but my arms ache so," the girl said, as she sank upon the grass ; " it must be lovely to have a horse." " Some day we will," her brother returned abruptly. " You just wait and see — and then you won't ever walk anywhere. But you oughtn't to carry these all this way, Jessie ; I could bring it in my pocket just as well." The girl's face clouded a little. " But then it gets so cold, Harvey — and what's in there ought to be nice and warm," she said hopefully, nodding towards- the pail. " Mother heated the can just when we put it in, and I came as fast as ever I could, so it. wouldn't cool — and I held it in the hot sun all the time," she concluded triumphantly, proud of her ingenuity. " That's lovely, Jessie," replied the boy ; " and you're quite right," he went on, noticing the flitting sign of disappointment. " I just hate cold things — and I just love them hot," he affirmed as he removed the lid. Jessie bended eagerly over it and the faint steam that arose was as beautiful to her eyes as was ever ascending incense to priestly ministrant. " It's hot, Harvey ! I thought it would be," she cried. " Mother was so anxious for you to have a nice dinner — I knew that was what you liked," as an ^8 THE WEB OF TIME exclamation of delight came from the boy. " Mother said she never saw such a boy for meat-pies as you. And there's something further down, that you like too — they're under a saucer, and they have butter and sugar both, on them. No, you'd never guess what it is — oh, that's not fair," she cried, " you're smelling ; any one can guess what it is if they smell," laughing merrily as she tried to withdraw the pail beyond the range of his olfactory powers. " It's pancakes ! " pronounced her brother, sniffing still. " Yes, of course — but you never would have guessed. Mother made them the very last thing before I started. And I cried when she was putting them in — oh, Harvey, it was so sad," the girl burst out with trembling voice, her hands going to her face as she spoke. " And mother cried too," she added, looking out at her brother through swimming eyes. Harvey halted in his attack. " What for ? What were you crying about ? " he asked earnestly, the food still untasted. " It was about mother's eyes. You see, she put the pancakes on the table beside the stove — and there was a pile of table mats beside them. Well, when mother went to put them into the pail, she took up the mats instead — never knew the difference till she felt them. And I could see how sad it made her — she said she was afraid she soon wouldn't see at all ; and I just couldn't keep from crying. Oh, Harvey," the shaking voice went eagerly on, " don't the RICHES of The POOR 39 you think we'll soon be able to send her to the city to see the doctor there ? — everybody says he could cure the right eye anyhow ; mother thinks the left one's gone. Don't you think we will, Harvey ? " Harvey looked into space, a large slice of the tempting pie still in his hand. " I'm hoping so," he said — " I made almost thirty cents this morning ; I counted it up just before you came — and there's the two dollars I made picking raspberries that mother doesn't know about — it's in that knot-hole in the closet upstairs, you know. And maybe Mr. Bor- land's going to give me more work — I asked him, and then " " I told mother I was going to sell Muffy," his sister broke in impulsively. " But she said I mustn't ; I guess she's awful fond of Muffy, she cried so hard." " I'd hate to sell Muffy," the boy responded judi- cially ; " she's the only one that always lays big eggs. And then, besides, they might kill her and eat her up — rich 'people nearly always do their hens that way." Two pairs of eyes darkened at thought of a tragedy so dread. " We wouldn't, even if we was rich, would we, Har- vey ? " the girl resumed earnestly. " No, not with Muiify," Harvey assured her. " They're awful rich over there," he volunteered, pointing to the large stone house in the distance. " It must be lovely," mused the girL " We could have such lots of lovely things. Why don't you eat your dinner, Harvey ? — it'll get so cold." 40 THE IVEB OF TIME " I don't want it much," replied her brother. " You see, I had a pretty good breakfast," he explained cheerfully. The loving eyes, still moist, gazed into his own. She was so young, some years younger than he, and as inexperienced almost as a child could be ; yet the stern tuition of poverty and sorrow had given some- thing of vision to the eyes that looked so wistfully out upon the plaintive face before her. She noted his shabby dress, the patches on his knees, the boots that stood so sorely in need of impossible repairs, the grimy stains of toil from head to foot, the fur- rowed channels that the flowing perspiration had left upon his face. And a great and mysterious pity seemed to possess her. She felt, dimly enough, yet with the sad reality of truth, that her brother had hardly had a chance in life's unequal struggle. His tenderness, his unselfishness, his courage, all these she recognized, though she could not have called them by their names. She knew how ardently he longed to do so much that chill penury forbade ; and as she glanced at the dust-covered pile in the distance that his toil had gathered, then back at the tired figure on the grass, all stained and spotted, the food he so much needed untasted in his sorrow, she felt more and more that there was only one hero in the world, however baffled and unrecognized he might be. " Mother'll be so disappointed," the girl pleaded, " if you don't eat it, Harvey ; she tried so hard to make it nice. Besides, I'll just have to carry it back," she suddenly urged, a note of triumphant expecta- The RICHES of The POOR 41 tion in her voice ; " and it was real heavy, too," well pleased with the culminating argument. The boy hesitated, then slowly raised the tempt- ing morsel to his lips. " I didn't have such an awful lot of breakfast," he conceded ; " I really am pretty hungry — and it was so good of you to fetch it to me, sister," his gaze resting affectionately on her. A long silence ensued, Jessie watching delightedly as the little repast was disposed of, entertaining her brother the while with a constant stream of talk, all fed from the fountain-head of their own little circle, their own humble and struggling life. But however far afield her speech, with her thought, might wan- der, it kept constantly returning to the one central figure of their lonely lives, to her from whom their own lives had sprung ; and the most unobservant listener would soon have known that the unselfish tenderness, the loving courage, of the mother-heart that had warmed and sheltered their defenseless lives, was reaping now its great and rich reward. Jessie had reverted again to the dark shadow that overhung them both, their mother's failing eyesight ; and two earnest little faces looked very soberly one into the other, as though they must together beat back the enemy from the gate. Suddenly Harvey broke the silence. " I'm pretty sure she's going to get well," he said earnestly, hold- ing the bottle in one hand and the glass stopper in the other. "I had a dream last night that — that comforted me a lot," he went on, slightly embarrassed by the fanciful nature of his argument ; he could see 42 THE WEB OF TIME that Jessie had hoped for something better. " I dreamed I was walking some place on a country road. And it was all dark — for mother, at least — it was awful dark, and I was leading her by the hand. I thought there was something troubling her that you didn't know about — nor me — nobody, only mother. Well, just when we were groping round in the dark, a great big black cloud broke up into little bits, and the sun came out beautiful — just like — like it is now,'' he described, glancing towards the orb above them. " Of course, that was only in my dream — but we went straight on after that and mother could see to walk just as well as me,'' he con- cluded, smiling as hopefully as if dreams were the only realities of life. Jessie, holding her sunbonnet by both strings and swinging it gently to and fro, had a curious look of interest, not unmixed with doubt, upon her childish face. " That was real nice, Harvey," she said slowly at length, "but I don't just understand. You see, people always dream their dreams at night— and the sun couldn't come out at night ; anyhow it never does." Harvey gazed indulgently. " It can do anything when you're dreaming," he said quickly, a far-off look in his thoughtful eyes. " That's when all the wonderful things happen," he went on, still looking absently across the fields. " Poor folks have just as good a time as rich folks, when they're asleep," he concluded, his voice scarcely audible. " But they know the difference when they wake The RICHES of The POOR 43 up," retorted his sister, plucking a clover leaf eagerly. " Only three leaves ! " she exclaimed contemptuously, tossing it aside. " Yes, it's very different when they wake up — and everybody's awake more than they're asleep," she affirmed, as confident in her philosophy as he in his. Her brother said nothing as he proceeded to fold up the rather generous remains of his dinner ; poor laddie, he knew the taste of bread eaten with tears, even if he had never heard the phrase. His face brightened a little as his hand went out to the pocket of his blouse, extracting a parcel wrapped in paper. He held it with both hands behind his back, uncov- ering it the while. " Shut your eyes, Jessie — and open your mouth," he directed, as enthusiastically as though the formula were being tested for the first and only time. Jessie obeyed with a confidence born of long ex- perience, and her brother, all care vanished meanwhile from his face, held the plum-cake to her hps. " Now, bite," he said. Jessie, already faintly tasting, made a slight incision. " Oh, Jessie, bite bigger — bite bigger, Jessie ! " he cried in dismay ; " you're just trying how little you can take — and I kept it for you." But Jes- sie's eyes were wide open now, fixed on the unwonted luxury. " Too much isn't good for little girls," she said quaintly, swallowing eagerly, nevertheless; "I'll eat one piece if you'll eat the other, Harvey," she said, noticing the double portion. " I'm keeping mine for mother," said the boy resolutely. 44 THE WEB OF TIME " So'm I," the other exclaimed before his words were out. " I'd sooner have the pancakes, anyhow," she added, fearing his protest. " Will you take it to her, Harvey — or me ? " " I think you'd better," replied her brother, " and I'll eat the rest of the dinner if you'll promise to eat your part of the cake when you get home." Jessie nodded her consent, and a few minutes saw, Harvey's portion of the contract nobly executed, his sister as satisfied as he. A FLOW OF SOUL GOOD Dr. Fletcher always said a little longer grace than usual when he dined at Mr. Craig's. Whether this was due to the length of the ensuing meal, or to the long intervals that separated these great occasions, or to the wealth that provided them, or to the special heart-needs of the wealthy, it were difficult to say. But one thing is beyond all doubt, and that is that the good minis- ter of the Glenallen Presbyterian Church would no more have thought of using an old grace at Mrs. Craig's table than she herself would have dreamed of serving the same kind of soup, or repeating a dessert whose predecessor was within the call of memory. On this particular evening Dr. Fletcher's invo- cation had been particularly long, due perhaps to the aroma, more than usually significant, that had es- caped the kitchen to assure the sanguine guests ; and a sort of muffled amen broke from their waiting lips, soon to confirm the word by all sincerity of action. This amen was doubtless due in part to gratitude for what had ended, as well as to anticipation of what was about to be begun. Cecil Craig, seated beside his mother, took no part in the terminal devotion; long before the time to utter it, his open eyes were turned 45 46 THE IVEB OF TIME towards the door through which the servants were to enter, and from which, so far as he could reckon, all blessings flow. Soup came first, and young Craig dauntlessly led on in the attack. His mother tried eagerly to call to his attention, and to his alone, that he had seized the spoon meant for his dessert ; but Cecil was already in full cry, the mistaken weapon plying like a paddle-wheel between his plate and his mouth — and no signal of distress could reach him. The most un- fortunate feature of it all, however, was the speedy pUght of one or two timorous guests, who, waiting for the lead of any members of the family, had fol- lowed Cecil's; and, suddenly detecting whither he had led them, were soon floundering sadly in such a slough of despond as they scarce escaped from during^ the entire meal. Mr. and Mrs. Borland were there, one on either side of Dr. Fletcher; and the light of temporary peace was upon Mrs. Borland's brow — for the Craigs' home was nearer to a mansion than any other in Glenallen. A slight shade of impatience flitted across her face as she glanced athwart Dr. Fletcher's portly form, surveying her husband's bosom swathed in snowy white, his napkin securely tucked beneath his chin. But David was all unconscious, the region beneath the napkin being exceeding comfortable ; for the soup was good, and her spouse bade fair to give Cecil a stern chase for the honours of the finish. Soup is a mighty lubricant of the inward parts ; wherefore there broke out, when the first course was A FLOW of SOUL 47 run, a very freshet of conversation ; and the most conspicuous figure in the flow was that of Mr. Craig. He had the advantage, of course, of an erect position, for he had risen to inaugurate his attack upon the helpless fowl before him ; an entrance once effected, he would resume his seat. " It beats me," he was saying, glancing towards Dr. Fletcher as he spoke, "it beats me how any man can go and see sick folks every day — I'd sooner do hard labour. Don't you get awful tired of it. Doctor ? " The minister's gentle face flushed a little — the same face at sight of which the sad and the weary were wont to take new hope. " I don't think you understand it, Mr. Craig," he answered quietly; " any one who regards it as you do could never see the beauty of it — it all depends on what you take with you." " Good heavens, do you have to take things with you ? " cried the astonished host. " Matters are come to a pretty pass when they expect a poor preacher to be giving — as well as praying," he affirmed, thrusting savagely at the victim on the platter. David Borland was listening intently, nabbing dexterously the while at a tray of salted almonds that lay a good arm's length away from him. " The minister's quite right," he now broke in ; " you don't understand, Mr. Craig — Dr. Fletcher don't mean that he takes coal an' tea, when he visits poor folks. But what he says is dead true just the same — any one 48 THE WEB OF TIME can carry a bag of turnips, or such like, to any one that's willin' to take 'em. But a minister's got to give somethin' far more than that ; even on Sundays — at least that's my idea of it — even on Sundays, what a preacher gives is far more important than what he says." " You mean he ouight to give himself," Mrs. Craig suggested, stirring the gravy as she spoke, the dis- membered turkey being now despatched to its anointing. " That's it exactly," rejoined David, beaming on his hostess, her own face aglow with the gentle light that flows from a sympathetic heart. " Everythin's jest a question of how much you give of your own self; even here," his voice rising as he hailed the happy illustration, " even in this here house — with this here bird — we ain't enjoyin' it because we're gettin' so much turkey, but because we're gettin' so much Craig," he went on fervently. " I could buy this much turkey for a quarter," passing a well-laden plate as he spoke, " for twenty-five cents at an eatin' house — but it wouldn't jest taste the same. It wouldn't have the Craig taste, you see — there wouldn't be no human flavour to it, like ; an' turkey ain't nothin' without a human flavour. That's what makes everythin' taste good, you see," he concluded, smil- ing benignly around on the assembled guests. " I don't believe in any such," retorted Mr. Craig ; " no mixture of that kind for mine. Turkey's one thing, and humanity's another — no stews for me," he directed, smiling broadly at this flash of unaccustomed A FLOW of SOUL 49 wit; "people eat turkey — but not humanity," he concluded victoriously. " You're wrong there," replied David Borland quickly. " Folks lives on humanity — only it's got to be served warm," he added, falling to upon the turkey nevertheless. " What do you think about it, Doctor ? " Mrs. Bor- land enquired absently, for her real concern was with David ; his dinner knife was her constant terror when they were dining out. All was well so far, however, her husband devoting it as yet to surgery alone. " I think exactly what your husband thinks," re- plied the minister. " He has said the very thing I have often wished to say. I have always felt that what a preacher gives to his people — of his heart and love and sympathy — is far more than what he says to them. If it were not so, they'd better stay home and read far finer things than he can say ; I often feel that preparing to preach is far more im- portant than preparing a sermon. And I think the same holds true of all giving — all philanthropy, for instance. What you give of yourself to the poor is far more than what you give from your pocketbook — and, if the truth were told, I believe it's what the poor are looking for, far more than they are for money." The tenderness in Dr. Fletcher's face and the slight quiver in his voice attested the sincerity of his feeling ; they might, too, have afforded no httle explanation of the love that all Glenallen felt for the humble and kindly man. Mr. Craig laughed; and that laughter was the key 50 THE WEB OF TIME to his character. Through that wave of metalHc merriment, as through a tiny pane, one might see into all the apartments of a cold and cheerless heart. " That's mighty pretty, Doctor," he began jocosely ; " but if I was poor I'd sooner have the cash — give me the turkey, and you can have the humanity. I believe in keeping these things separate, Dr. Fletcher," he went on sagaciously ; " no mixin' up business with religion, for me — ^of course, helping the poor isn't exactly religion, but it comes mighty near it. And if I give anything to the poor — I used to, too, used to give — to give so much every year, till I found out one family that bought a watermelon with it, and then I thought it was about time to stop. But when I used to — to give to the poor, I always did it strictly as a matter of business ; just gave so much to — to an official — and then I didn't want to know how he dispensed it, or who got it, or anything about it." " Did the — the official — did he give all his time to dispensin' it, Mr. Craig ? Or did he just do it nights and after hours ? " enquired David Borland, detaching his napkin from his upper bosom and scouring an unduly merry mouth with it the while. Mr. Craig glanced suspiciously at his guest. " I didn't wish to know," he repHed loftily in a moment ; " all I'm making out is the principle that governed me. And I always take the same stand in my busi- ness — always assume the same attitude towards my men," he amplified, as proud of his language as of his attitude. " Of all the men I've got hired, I don't A FLOW of SOUL 51 believe I know a half dozen except the foremen. I get their work, and they get their pay every second and fourth Tuesday — and that's the end of it." " You don't know how much you miss," the minis- ter ventured, quite a glow of colour on his otherwise pallid cheek. " There's nothing so interesting as human life." " You bet — that's just it," chimed David's robust voice ; " that's where a fellow gets his recreation. I don't think I'm master of my business till I know somethin' about my men — there ain't no process, even in manufacturin', half so interestin' as the doin's of folks in their own lives. I know lots of their wives, too, an' half the kids — please give me a little more stuffin', Mrs. Craig : it's powerful good," and David passed his plate as cheerfully as his opinion. " That may be your way of taking your recreation, Mr. Borland, but it isn't mine," retorted the host, ob- viously a little ruffled. " Business on business lines, that's my motto. Just the other day a little gaffer asked me for work, on the plea that he wanted to fix up his mother's eyes — wanted to send her to a spe- cialist, I think — and I told him that had nothing to do with the case ; if I wanted him I'd take him, and if I didn't, nobody's eyes could make any difference." " Was his name Harvey Simmons ? " David en- quired somewhat eagerly. " I believe it was. Why, what do you know about him ? " " Oh, nothin' much — only I hired him. And he isn't goin' to have no blind mother if my givin' him 52 THE IVEB OF TIME work will help — that's more. She's got a son worth lookin' at— that's one thing sure. An' he earned every penny I ever gave him, too — what was you goin' to say, Doctor ? " For he saw the minister had something to offer. " I know the little fellow well," said Dr. Fletcher, evidently glad of the opportunity. " Poor little chap, he's had hard lines — his father was a slave to drink, I believe, and the poor mother has fought about as good a fight as I ever saw. I'm sure she carries about some burden of sorrow nobody knows anything about. She has two children. Well, a long time ago now, one of the richest couples in my church offered to adopt the little girl — and they got me to sound her on the subject. Goodness me ! You should have seen the way the woman stood at bay. ' Not till the last crust's gone,' she said. She was fairly roused ; ' I'm richer than they are,' she said ; ' I've got my two children, and I'll keep them as long as I can lift a hand to toil for them.' Really, I never felt more rebuked in my life — but I admired her more than I could tell. And the wee fellow raged like a little lion. ' Did he want to take sister ? — tell him to go home, mother,' and he was fairly shouting and stamping his little foot, though the tears were run- ning down his cheeks all the while. I said she had two children," the minister added, " but I think she lost a baby through some sad accident years ago." David Borland's eyes were glistening. " Bully for you, Doctor ! " his voice rang through the room. " Bully for you — I knew the lad was worth stickin' A FLOW of SOUL 5^ to. I'm proud to be mixed up with a chap like that," thumping the table as he spoke. " That's what I often say to Peter," Mrs. Craig be- gan mildly during the pause that followed. " I often feel what you sometimes say in your sermons, Doc- tor — that we ought all to be mixed up a little more together. The rich and the poor, I mean. They need us, and we need them — and we both have our own parts to play in the great plan." " That's it, Mrs. Craig," David broke in lustily again ; " that's exactly it — last Sunday when we sang that line, - My web of time He wove,' I jest stopped singin ' — it struck me, like it never done before, as how God Himself couldn't weave much without us helpin' Him — the rich an' the poor — it's Him that designs, but it's us that has to weave. An' I reckon our hands has got to touch — if they're workin' on the same piece," he concluded, drinking in the approving smile with which Dr. Fletcher was showing his appreciation of the quaint philosophy. A considerable silence followed, the host show- ing no disposition to break it. Cecil was the first to speak. " Harvey wears patches on his knees," he informed the company. " What is there for dessert, mother ? " Mrs. Craig whispered the important information ; the radiant son straightway published it to the world : " Plum pudding ! — I like that — only I hope it has hard sauce." Which it ultimately proved to have — and to Mrs. Borland's great dismay. For David, loyal to ancient 54 THE IVEB OF TIME ways, yet ever open to the advantage of modern im- provement, passed back his plate for a second helping. " I used to think the kind of gravy-sauce you slashed all over it was the whole thing — but I believe that ointment's got it beat," he said ; whereat Mrs. Borland laid her spoon upon her plate, the ointment and the anointed untasted more. VI AN INl^ESTMENT DAVID BORLAND stood quite a little while gazing at the contents of the window before he entered the tiny store. Rather scanty those contents were; a few candy figures, chiefly chocolate creations, a tawdry toy or two, some sam- ples of biscuits judiciously assorted, a gaudy tinselled box of chewing-gum, and a flaming card that pro- claimed the merits of a modern brand of tea. These all duly scrutinized, David pushed the door open and entered the humble place of business. The opening door threw a sleigh-bell, fastened above it, into quite an hysterical condition, and this in turn was answered by hurrying footsteps from the inner room. It was Harvey who appeared. " Good-morning, Mr. Borland," the boy said re- spectfully. " Did you want to see mother ? " he en- quired a little anxiously ; " she's gone to the market, but I think she'll soon be back." " That's all right, my boy," the man responded. " No, it wasn't your mother I wanted ; it was you — I come to do a little business." " Oh," said Harvey, glancing hopefully towards the window. 55 56 THE IVEB OF TIME " 'Tain't exactly shop business," David said, a little nervously, " I come to — to buy a hen," he blurted out. Harvey's hand went like lightning into the glass case. Withdrawn, it produced a candy creature of many colours, its comb showing the damage that vandal tongues had done. ' " Totty Moore licked at it once or twice when we wasn't lookin'," he ex- plained apologetically ; " it used to be in the win- dow — it's a settin' hen," he enlarged, indicating with his finger a pasty pedestal on which the creative process was being carried on. David grinned broadly. " 'Tain't that kind of a hen I'm wantin'," he said. " I want the real article — a real live two-legged hen." " Oh," said Harvey, staring hard. " Where's your chicken-house ? " enquired David, coming to business direct. " It's outside,'' the boy replied instructively — " but there ain't very many." " Let's go and see them," said the man. The boy led the way, David ducking his head sev- eral times en route, bowing profoundly at the last as they entered the little house. " This your hennery ? " he asked, surveying the in- mates amid a storm of cackling ; " sounds like you had hundreds of 'em." " Just five," said Harvey, peering towards his cus- tomer through the semi-darkness. " I think I'll buy that there one on the roost," David said after due deliberation ; " seems to be the highest-minded of the bunch." An INVESTMENT 57 " Can't," said Harvey, " that's Jessie's ; it's only- got just one eye — that's why Jessie wanted it. Can't sell Jessie's," he concluded firmly. David agreed. " Haven't you got one called Pinky?" he enquired. " No," Harvey replied solemnly, " she's dead — we had her a long, long time ago. I can show you her grave outside in the yard." " Never mind," said Mr. Borland ; " this ain't no day for inspectin' graves. I might have known she'd passed away — ^how long does a hen live, anyhow — a healthy hen?" " Depends on how they're used," said the boy ; " Pinky sneezed to death — too much pepper, I think. Who told you about Pinky, sir ? " "Depends a good deal, too, on how often the preacher comes to dinner, don't it ? It was Madeline told me about Pinky — you know my girl, don't you ? " " Yes," and Harvey's face was bright ; " I'm awful sorry Pinky's dead — I could sell you one of Pinky's grandchildren's children, Mr. Borland." " What ? " said Mr. Borland, turning a straw about and placing the unchewed end in his mouth, " one of what?" " One of Pinky's grandchildren's children. You see, her child was Fluffy, and its child was Toppy — that was her grandchild ; well, its child was Blackie — and that's her scratchin' her cheek with her left foot. She's done scratchin', but that's her over there." "She's got the Pinky blood in her all right?" asked Mr. Borland. 58 THE WEB OF TIME " She's bound to have it," the boy answered gravely ; " they was all born right in this room ; besides, I've got it all marked down on the door." David surveyed the descendant critically. " Does she lay brown eggs ? " he enquired presently. " Mad- eline said Pinky always laid brown eggs." Harvey hesitated a moment. " They're — they're pretty brown," he said after a pause. " They mostly turn brown a little after they're laid." " I'm terrible fond of brown eggs," remarked the purchaser. " What for?" asked Harvey, looking full into his face. " Well, really — I don't know," and David grinned a little. " Only I always fancy they're kind o' — kind o' better done, don't you think ? Besides," he added quickly, " I always like my toast brown, too — and they kind o' match better, you see." " Yes," said Harvey reflectively ; " I never thought of that before. Of course, there isn't any hen can be taught always to lay them brown — I think Blackie tries to make them as brown as she can," glancing fondly at the operator as he spoke. " If you was to feed her bran, Mr. Borland, I think she'd get them brown nearly all the time." " That's a thunderin' good idea," affirmed Mr. Borland, Harvey chiming in with increasing assur- ance of success as he marked the favour with which his theory was received. " We'll call it a bargain," said David. " All right," exclaimed the boy, " just wait a minute till I get a bag." An INf^ESTMENT 59 " Don't bother about that ; I'll just leave her here till I send for her — she'll earn her board. But I may as well pay you now — how much is she worth ? " The boy pondered. " I don't hardly know — of course the brown kind conies a Httle dearer," he ventured, glancing cautiously at Mr. Borland. " She's an awful well-bred hen — I can show you on the door. And she'll eat anything — Jessie's string of beads broke loose in the yard once and Blackie ate them all but two ; that shows she's healthy," he concluded earnestly. " It's a wonder she ain't layin' glass alleys," re- marked David. " Well, about the price — I'll tell you what I'll do with you. Here's a bill — an' if she keeps on at the brown business, mebbe I'll give you a little more." He handed the boy a crisp note, the lad's hand trembling as he took it. He gave the door a push open that the light might fall on it. " Oh, Mr. Borland," he cried, in a loud, shrill voice, " I won't — you mustn't, you mustn't. Mother wouldn't let me — I can't — please take it back, Mr. Borland," and David noticed in the fuller light that the boy was shaking with emotion, his face aglow with its eager excitement. " Nonsense, my lad ; what you going on about ? I reckon I know somethin' about the price of hens — especially the brown kind. No, I won't take it back. She's worth that much to me jest to keep the yard red up o' glass." 6o THE WEB OF TIME " Oh, Mr. Borland— I wish I " " Tut, tut," David interrupted ; " boys should take what's set before 'em, an' ask no questions — an' don't you tell nobody now, only your mother. Say, isn't that her callin' ? Listen — it is, sure enough — that's your mother callin' you," and David took advantage of the interruption to unlatch an ad- joining gate, slipping through to the outer lane, his face the more radiant of the two. VII "EFFECTUAL CALLING" " TT 'LL go with you as far as the door, dear— I but the elders wouldn't want me to come in, JL of course." Thus spoke Mrs. Simmons to her son as the little family were seated at their evening meal. Very humble it was, indeed, with its strawberry jam, and bread and cheese, these them- selves carefully measured out, " Come away, Jessie ; what's keeping you ? " the mother called to the outer kitchen. " I'll come in a minute, mother," the child's cheery voice replied. " I'm doing something," which was evident a little later when Jessie appeared, flushed and triumphant, bearing in one hand a little plate of well-browned toast, and in the other, her little fingers tingling with its heat, a large brown egg, evidently an unwonted luxury. " Jessie, my child, what have you been doing ? " the mother asked, peering rather closely at the dainties the child had laid upon her plate. " Oh, Jessie, you ^shouldn't have done it — you know we can't afford it, dear ; we need to sell them all," she remonstrated, affection and gratitude nevertheless mingling in her voice, 6i 62 THE WEB OF TIME " It was cracked, mother — it got a little fall," the child explained artfully. " Jessie gave it a little fall ; she always gets the biggest one cracked a little when there isn't much for supper — don't you, sister ? " Harvey asked know- ingly. His sister blushed, but the reply she was struggling to provide was interrupted by the tinkling of the bell above the door in the little room without. This was a signal the mother was never slow to obey ; customers were rare enough and must not be per- mitted to escape. Rising quickly, she made her way, her hands extended rather pitifully, to the liltle room that did duty as a store. Jessie bore the little delicacies back to the kitchen, lest they should cool in the interval. The mother was back again in a minute, sighing as she resumed her seat. "Did they buy anything, mother?" her son enquired. " No, nothing — they wanted something we didn't have; I sent them to Ford's," referring to a more elaborate establishment on an adjoining street. " I was speaking about you going to the elders' meet- ing, Harvey — I'll go with you as far as the church, as I said. And you mustn't be afraid, son ; they'll be glad you're going to join the church. And you must just answer what they ask you, the same as you do to me at home." " Will they ask me the catechism, mother ? " " Some of the questions, most likely. Be sure you "EFFECTUAL CALLING" 63 know ' effectual calling ' — I think they nearly always ask ' effectual calling.' " " I know that one all right," the boy answered. " I said it to Jessie four times last night — do you think there'll be others there to join the church, mother ? " " I couldn't say for sure, but it's likely there'll be some. I guess it's almost time to go now, dear," she said rising. " Jessie, you'll do the best you can if anybody comes in — I'll not be long." " Will it be all right about — about you finding your way back, mother ? " Harvey asked slowly, his voice full of solicitude. " Of course, child, of course — you and Jessie are growing quite foolish about me. I'm not so bad as that," she protested. " Why, I can tell the day of the month, when I stand up close to the calendar — this is the 23d," she affirmed reassuringly, stepping out into the night with Harvey clinging close beside her. Neither spoke much as they walked on towards the village church. Often, when she thought the boy's eyes were not upon her, the woman lifted her own upward to the silent stars; the night always rested her, something of its deep tranquillity passing into the tired heart that had known so much of battle. And yet the long struggle had left upon her face the marks of peace rather than the scars of con- flict. Of merriment, there were traces few or none, although sufficient provocation could recall the old- time sparkle to the eyes that had been so often 64 THE WEB OF TIME dimmed; but something noble was there instead, a placid beauty such as comes alone from resignation, born of a heart that has found its rest in a Strength and Tenderness which dwell beyond the hills of time. If one could have caught a vision of that face, up- turned to the radiant sky above her, the glimpse would have disclosed features of shapely strength, marked by great patience, the eyes full of brooding gentleness and love, conscious of the stern battle that composed her life, but conscious, too — and this it was that touched the face with passion — of invisible re- sources, of an unseen Ally that mysteriously bore her on. " Let us go in here a minute," the mother said when they were almost at the church. Harvey followed her, unquestioning. He knew whither her feet were turned, for he had often fol- lowed that well-marked path before, often with tod- dling feet. They entered the quiet churchyard, passing many an imposing monument, threading their way with reverent steps among the graves, careful that no disrespect should be shown the humblest sleeper. On they pressed, the dew glisten- ing upon their shoes as they walked, their very breathing audible amid the oppressive silence. Grad- ually the woman's steps grew slower; and as she crept close to an unmarked grave that lay among the untitled mounds around it, the slender frame trembled slightly, drawing her poor shawl closer as she halted with downcast eyes, gazing at the silent sepulchre as it lay bathed in the lonely light of the "EFFECTUAL CALLING" 65 new-risen moon. The boy stood behind her for a moment, then crept close to her, his hand gliding into hers ; the woman's closed about it passionately, its warmth stealing inward to her heart. " I think I remember when baby died," Harvey began, after they had stood long together by the grave ; " I was asleep, wasn't I, mother ? I remem- ber in the morning." " Yes, dear," said his mother, her voice tremulous ; " yes, you were asleep — I was with baby when she died." " Was father there too, mother ? " " Yes, Harvey, yes — pull that weed, dear ; there, at the foot of baby's grave." "Did father cry when baby died, mother? — like you did, mother ? " " I don't know, dear — yes, I think so. We'll have to bring some fresh flowers soon, won't we, Harvey ? " the mother's lips trembling. " Yes, mother, I'll pick some pretty ones to-mor- row. Did father die long after baby, mother ? " the boy pursuing the dread subject with the strange per- sistence wherewith children so often probe a secret wound. " No, my son — yes, I mean ; yes, Harvey, it was the same night, I think," her nervous fingers roving about Harvey's uncovered head. " You think, mother ? " the tone full of surprise. " It was near the same time, Harvey," she an- swered hurriedly, unable to control her voice. " I can't tell you now, son — some day, perhaps. But 66 fHE [VEB OF TIME mother was so sorry about baby that she hardly knows — don't ask me any more about it, Harvey," she suddenly pleaded ; " never any more — some day I'll tell you all about your father, and all you've asked me so often. But don't ask me any more, my son — it makes mother feel bad," as she bent over to kiss the curious lips. He could see the tears upon his mother's cheeks, and he inwardly resolved that her bidding should be done, silently wondering the while what this myste- rious source of pain might be. After a long silence the boy's voice was heard again : " Weren't baby's eyes shut when she died, mother ? " " Yes, darling — yes, they were closed in death," and the unforgetting heart beat fast at the tender memory. " But they're open now, aren't they, mother ? — and wasn't it God that did it ? " " Yes, Harvey, they're open now — God opened them, I'm sure." " Couldn't He make people see all right before they're dead, mother ? Couldn't He do it for you ? " " Yes, child — yes, He could if He wanted to." " And why wouldn't He want to ? " the boy asked wonderingly. " I'm sure He could ; and I've been asking Him to do it for us Himself — if we couldn't get the money for the doctor to do it. Wasn't that right, mother ? " The moon, high now, looked down upon the lonely pair ; they stood together, they two, beside the un- '•EFFECTUAL CALLING" 67 responsive grave, the elder face bathed in tears, the younger unstained by grief and wistful with the eager trust of childhood. The insignia of poverty was upon them both, and the boy shivered slightly in the chill air ; but the great romance and tragedy of life were interwoven there, love and hope and sorrow playing the parts they had so often played before. The woman stooped down amid the glistening grass and took her child into her arms, pressing him close to her troubled bosom, her face against his cheek,, while her eyes roved still about his sister's grave. " We must go on," she murmured presently. " Can you see a light in the church ? " " Did you join when you were just a girl, mother ? " the boy asked, his lips close to her ear. "Yes," she replied, " I was very young when I joined." " Did father ever join the church ? " Harvey went on, releasing his face to gaze about the sleeping city. " No, dear — no, your father never was a member of the church," she said softly. " Wasn't he good enough ? Wouldn't they let him?" the lad asked wonderingly. " They never — they never refused him," his mother faltered. " But he never thought he was good enough." " But he was, wasn't he ? " the boy pursued. " Yes, dear — ^yes, he was once — he often was. He always meant to be good ; he loved you, Harvey, And he made me promise that some day I would 68 THE IVEB OF TIME tell you why he thought — why he thought he wasn't good enough. He was afraid you might be the same ; it was something he — something he couldn't help very well — I'll tell you some day, Harvey. Who's that?" she whispered excitedly, pointing towards a shadowy figure that was winding its way silently towards them. His mother straightened up as she spoke, Harvey's hand tight clasped in hers again. The figure came swiftly on. " It's Madeline," the boy said rather excitedly. " It's Madeline Borland — I guess she's going to join too." Which proved indeed to be the case. " I knew it was you," the girl began, almost breathless as she came up to them. " The beadle said it was you, Harvey ; Julia walked to the church with me, and she's waiting till I join. I thought perhaps we might go in together; I don't want to go in alone." Harvey could see in the dim light how eagerly the girl's eyes were searching his mother's face. He did not withdraw his hand, but unconsciously straightened himself in quiet dignity. " This is my mother," he said simply, quite un- familiar with the modes of introduction ; " and that's Miss Borland, mother." " Please don't say that," the girl interrupted. " I think you might call me Madeline ; anyhow, I heard you call me Madeline to your mother," as she stepped gently around the foot of the grave and ex- tended her hand to Harvey's mother. The older "EFFECTUAL CALLING" 69 woman was evidently struck by the girl's beauty, by the simple grace and kindliness of her manner. At any rate she held the outstretched hand rather long in hers, gazing on the sweet face upturned in the quivering light. "And this — this is my sister's grave," Harvey's subdued voice added a moment later. The girl said nothing, turning a solemn gaze upon the lowly mound. She had been long familiar with the quiet acre, but this was perhaps the first time she had realized the dread personaUty that clothes the grave with dignity. " You haven't any treasure here, have you. Miss. Madeline ? " the mother jisked timidly, when the: pause had become almost painful. " No, not any," the girl answered in hushed tones ; " we haven't even got a plot — I never had a little sister," she afiSrmed, the moistening eyes turning now to Harvey's face. He looked down, then up again, and the soulful gaze was still fixed upon him. A kind of wave, strange and unfamiliar, seemed to bathe his soul ; he did not wish to look longer, and yet a sort of spell seemed to keep his eyes fastened on her face. The girl's look was eloquent of much that neither he nor she was able to interpret, the first venture out to sea on the part of either soul. " Doesn't it seem strange that we should meet here — here at your sister's grave," she said slowly, after the gaze of both had fallen. " Of course, we've often seen each other at school — but this is our first real meeting, isn't it?" she went on, gazing now to- 70 THE JVEB OF TIME wards the light that twinkled feebly in the distant church. " Yes," he answered simply, " yes, it is — I guess we'd better go. Do you know the catechism ? " he digressed, beginning to move forward, half leading his mother by the hand. " No, I don't. Father doesn't believe in catechisms, — I wanted him to join along with me, but he said he wasn't good enough. Only he said he'd see — it would be just like him to come without my knowing." " That's what my father said," Harvey interjected quickly ; " and my mother says he was often good — only of course it's too late now," a little sigh escap- ing with the words. " Perhaps they join them in heaven," the girl sug- gested in an awestruck voice. " Father says that's where the real joining's done ; if your father was good, I'm sure they'd join him," she concluded earnestly, looking into both the serious faces as she spoke. " Don't you think maybe they would, mother ? " pleaded the boy. The habit of a lifetime committed everything to the mother for final judgment. " That's in God's hands, dear," the delicate face glancing upward through the mist. " I'm sure God would do it if He could — we'd better hurry on; they'll be waiting for us in the church." The little procession wound its way back to the humble temple, Harvey still holding his mother by the hand, Madeline following close behind. And •'EFFECTUAL CALLING" 71 the shadowy home of the little child was left alone in the silence and the dark. The youthful pair disappeared within the ivy- grown door. The mother, her dim eyes still more dimmed by tears, turned upon her homeward way, a troubled expression on her face. Why had she not told him more, she wondered to herself — something about his father, and the cruel appetite that had been his shame and his undoing? And her lips moved in trembling prayer that God would save her son from the blight of his father's life, that the dread heritage might never wrap his life in the same lurid flame. VIII OF SUCH IS THE KINGDOM THE predominant national type among the Glenallen folks was Scotch, and that dis- tinctly. David Borland was one of the few exceptions ; and the good folk about him had varied explanations for the baffling fact that he, American-bred though he was, had been one of the most prosperous men of the community. Some main- tained that his remote ancestry must have come from the land o' cakes, even though he himself were oblivious to heaven's far-off goodness. Others con- tended that his long association with a Scottish neighbourhood had inoculated him with something of their distinctive power; while the profounder minds acknowledged frankly that the ways of Prov- idence were mysterious, and that this lonely spec- tacle of an alien mortal, handicapped from birth and yet rising to affluence and distinction, was but an evidence of the Omnipotence that had wrought the miracle. But if, in matters temporal, the historic Scotch stock of Glenallen had been compelled to divide the spoil with those of lesser origin, the control of af- fairs ecclesiastical was carefully reserved for Scottish hands alone. This went without saying. Over 72 Of SUCH is the KINGDOM 73 every door of church officialdom, and especially of the eldership, he who ran might read : " No Irish need apply," — and the restriction included all to whom heaven had denied the separate advantage of Scottish birth or ancestry. Wherefore it came about that the assembled elders who on this particular night awaited the arrival of applicants for church-membership were about as formidable to look upon as any half dozen of mere men could be. The dignity of their office filled the little room and the sense of responsibility sat gravely on every face. Two there were among them, newly elected to the office — the highest office in the gift of their fellow-men — and these two were fairly dripping with new-born solemnity. The older men, relaxing with the years, had discarded some of the sombre drapery that the newer elders wrapt about them with pious satisfaction. .^neas Ramsay, one of the veterans, had ventured to ask one of the newly ordained if they would finish the threshing at his farm to-morrow. The question was put before the meeting had well begun, and was whispered in the ear at that; but the shock was easily seen on the new elder's face, who, recovering in a moment, informed his senior that they would discuss the matter after the " sederunt " was ad- journed. Which purely Presbyterian term rolled from his lips with the luxurious unction known to Presbyterian elders, and to them alone. The Session had been constituted, and good old Sandy McKerracher had led in prayer, the other 74 THE WEB OF TIME elders standing through the exercise. Most of them had one foot upon a chair, the elbow resting on the knee and the chin upon the hand, before Sandy had concluded. In fact, the precaution of an adjoin- ing chair was seldom overlooked by any when the Moderator named Sandy for this solemn duty, his staying powers famous for fifty years. The chief emphasis of his prayer was laid on the appeal to Infinite Love that none of the intending communi- cants might eat and drink damnation to themselves. This was a favourite request with all of them on such occasions — excepting one elder, and good Dr. Fletcher himself — and it was largely because of this that the Moderator was wont to see the Session con- stituted before the candidates were admitted to the room. " There's some bringin' their lines frae ither kirks," Robert MaCaig began, when the Moderator asked if there were any candidates for membership, "but there's nae mair nor twa to join on profession o' faith," he added, turning a despondent eye upon his brother elders. " We used to hae a dizzen or mair." " Twa souls is an awfu' lot, Robert — twa never dyin' souls ! " It was Geordie Nickle who sounded the hopeful note. He was the sainthest elder of them all, and the saintliest are the san- guinest. " We maun be thankfu' for twa mair to own the Saviour's name," he added reverently. " But they're only bairns," Robert urged ; " there's no' a muckle man among them." " That's a' the better," returned Geordie ; " the Of SUCH is The KINGDOM 75 Maister was aye glad to hae the bairns come — ca' them in," he said, the sHghtest note of impatience in his voice. A moment later Harvey and Madeline were ushered in, very shy and embarrassed, their down- cast eyes fluttering upwards now and then to the stern faces fixed upon them. There was considerable skirmishing of a pre- liminary sort, the elders' questions booming out solemnly like minute guns. Suddenly Robert Mc- Caig proceeded to business. " We'll tak a rin ower the fundamentals," he said, brandishing the age-worn term as though he had just invented it. " What is original sin ? " he de- manded ; " tell the Moderator what's original sin." " The Moderator kens fine himsel'," Andrew Fum- merton whispered to the elder at his right, smiling grimly. But the man beside him scarcely heard, for eve^y mind was intent with the process under way ; scores of times had they witnessed it before, but it was again as new and absorbing as the prowess of a fisherman landing his reluctant prize. There was a long silence, still as death. Suddenly Willie Gillespie fell to sneezing ; he it was at whose farm the threshers had been that day, and who had been profanely questioned by /Eneas Ramsay, as al- ready told. Perhaps it was the day's dust that pro- voked the outburst ; but, from whatever cause, the explosion was remarkable in its power and duration, one detonation following another with heightening tumult till the final boonjing was worthy of the no- 76 rHE IVEB OF TIME blest efforts of modern artillery. As the bombard- ment increased in power, the elders unconsciously braced themselves a little on their chairs, dismayed at the unseemly outbreak, considering the place and the occasion. Harvey, for the life of him, could not forbear to smile ; this human symptom was reassuring to him amid the statuesque solemnity of the room — it made original sin less ghostly, somehow, and he looked al- most gratefully at the dynamic Willie. This latter worthy, recoiling like a smoking cannon, groped frankly for his nose as if apprehensive that it had been discharged; finding it uninjured, he repaired hastily to the tail pocket of a black coat that had sus- tained the dignity of a previous generation in the eldership, extracting therefrom a lurid pocket-hand- kerchief — that is, originally lurid — but now as va- riously bedecked as though the threshers had enjoyed its common ministry that day. Whereupon there ensued a succession of reports, inferior only to their mighty predecessors themselves, resembling nothing so much as the desultory firing that succeeds the main attack. " Ye was askin' what might be original sin," Willie murmured apologetically from behind the faithful handkerchief, swishing it back and forward on his nose the while as though he were polishing the knocker on a door; he glanced apologetically to- wards Mr. McCaig as he spoke, anxious to repair the connection he had so violently disturbed. " If my memory serves me," Robert returned se- Of SUCH is The KINGDOM 77 verely, " if my memory serves me, that is what we was dealin' wi' — order's a graun' thing at a meetin' o' sic a kind as this," he added sternly, his gaze follow- ing the disappearing banner now being reentombed. " What is original sin, laddie ? Mebbe the lassie can gie me the answer," he suggested, Harvey's si- lence impressing him as incurable. " I'm not very sure," faltered Madeline — " was it the kind at the beginning ? " Robert McCaig had no desire to be unnecessarily severe ; therefore turned enquiringly to his colleagues, implying that the verdict lay with them. " Very good, child, very good," Dr. Fletcher said approvingly. " It's very hard to answer Mr. Mc- Caig's question — he'd find it difficult enough himself. What is it, Harvey ? " he asked, smiling at the boy, who seemed to have an idea ready. " I'm not very sure either ; but isn't it — isn't it the kind that doesn't wear off? " the lad ventured timidly, rather ashamed of the description after it was finished. " Capital, my boy ; first-rate ! " the minister cried delightedly. " That's better than an}d:hing I learned in college. I don't believe any one could get much nearer to it than that — now we'll just pass from this," smiling around at the elders as he made the suggestion ; " there are other things more important — has any of the elders anything else to ask ? " It was not long before two or three of them were in full cry again. Stern questions, weighty interrog- atives, suggestive of the deepest mysteries, were pro- pounded to the youthful pair as complacently as 78 THE WEB OF TIME though they were being asked how many pints make a gallon. One wanted to know their view of the origin of evil, following this by a suggestion that they should each give a brief statement of the doc- trine of the Trinity. Another urged that they should describe in brief the process of regeneration. Still another asked if they could repeat the books of the Bible backwards — any one, he said, could do it the old way — and one good elder capped the climax by saying he would like to hear them tell how to recon- cile the free agency of man with the sovereignty of God. But just at this juncture Geordie Nickle rose, his face beaming with tenderness, and addressed the chair. " They're fashin' the bairns. Moderator," he said gently. " Wull ye no' let me pit a wee bit question or twa till them mysel' ? " The Moderator was evidently but too well pleased, and his nod gave Geordie the right of way. The old man moved to where Harvey and Madeline were seated, taking his stand partially behind them, his hands resting gently on the heads of both. " I mind fine the nicht I joined the kirk mysel'," he began ; " it was the winter my mither gaed awa, an' I think God answered her prayer, to mak her glad afore she went — but the elders askit me some o' thae vera questions — an' I kent then hoo far they was frae the soul," he said gravely, looking compas- sionately on the faces now upturned to his own. " Sae I'm juist gaein' to ask ye what I was wishin' Of SUCH is The KINGDOM 79 they'd ask frae me. Div ye no' love the Saviour, las- sie — and div ye no' ken He's the son o' God ? " he asked reverently, tenderly. " Div ye no' ken that, lassie ? — an' the same wi' yirsel', my laddie ? — I'm sure ye're baith trustin' Him, to the savin' o' the soul ; are ye no', bairnies ? " and the old man's face shone as the great truth kindled his own simple soul. Harvey and Madeline nodded eager assent, a muf- fled affirmative breaking from their lips. " An' ye ken the Saicrament's juist the meetin'- place where He breaks bread wi' His children, and where they say, afore a' the folk, that they love Him, and trust Him, an' want to be aye leal an' true till Him, and show forth His death till He come — div ye no' ken it that way ? " the kindly voice went on, his hands still resting on the youthful heads. Harvey answered first : " That's what I'd like to be — that's what I want to do," he said simply. " I want to, too — I'm the same as Harvey," Made- line faltered sweetly. Then Geordie Nickle straightened himself and turned towards Dr. Fletcher. " Moderator," he said earnestly, " we canna mak the way mair open nor the Maister made it ; an' I move that these twa be received intil full communion, an' their names — the Clerk kens what they are — be added to the roll o' communicants in good standin' i' the kirk " This was carried without further protest and ordered to be done forthwith. IX A BELATED ENQUIRER THE youthful candidates had hardly left the room when the beadle, compared with whose solemnity the gravity of the elders was frivolity itself, announced that a further candi- date was in waiting. " It's Mr. Borland," he said in an awed whisper — " Mr. David Borland. He wants to jine, Mr. Moderator," the beadle informed the court in much the same tone as is employed when death-warrants must be read. " An' it'll be on profession," he added, unable to forego the sensational announce- ment, " for he never jined no church afore." Then the beadle retreated with the mien that becomes an ecclesiastical sheriff. An instant later he reappeared with Mr. Borland, whom he left standing in the very centre of the room. The elders gazed wonderingly at the unex- pected man. " Dinna break oot again," Robert McCaig whis- pered to the now tranquil Willie, fearful of another explosion ; " it's no' often a kirk session has sic a duty to perform," and Willie responded by rising slightly and sitting down hard upon the contents of 80. A BELATED ENQUIRER 8i his coat-tail pocket, as though the fuse for the ex- plosion were secreted there. David looked round upon the elders, in no wise abashed ; he even nodded familiarly to two or three with whom he was more intimately acquainted. " It's a fine evening," he informed one nearest him, to the evident amazement of his brethren. The usual process began, one or two undertaking preliminary examination. " Have you ever joined before, Mr. Borland ? " one of the elders asked him after a little. " Never joined a church before — haven't been much of a joiner," David answered cheerfully ; "joined the Elks once in the States when I was a young fellow — an' they made it pretty interestin' for me," dispensing a conciliatory smile among the startled elders as he turned to catch another ques- tion. " What maks ye want to join, Mr. Borland ? " enquired one of the new elders, hitherto silent. " What's yir motive, like ? Hae ye got the root o' the matter in ye, div ye think ? " he elaborated formally. David started somewhat violently, turning and looking his questioner full in the face. " Have I got what in me ? " he cried — " what kind of a root ? That's more than I can say, sir ; I don't catch your meanin'." Dr. Fletcher interposed. " You're not familiar with our terms, Mr. IBorland," he said reassuringly. " Mr. Aiken only wants to know why you feel im- 82 THE WEB OF TIME pelled to become a member of the church — perhaps you could answer the question when it's put that way? " David's first sign of answer was to stoop and pick up a rather shapeless hat lying at his feet. This symptom decidedly alarmed the elders, several of them sitting up suddenly in their chairs as though fearful that so interesting a subject might escape. But David had evidently seized it only for purposes of reflection, turning it round and round in his hands, his eyes fixed upon the floor. " It was a queer kind of a reason," he began ab- ruptly, clearing his throat with all the resonance of a trumpet — " but mebbe it ain't too bad a one after all. It was Madeline," he finally blurted out, star- ing at all the brethren in turn. " I knew she was goin' to join — an' — an' I wanted to keep up with her. If she's agoin' to heaven, I'm agoin' too — an' I reckon this here's the way," he added, feeling that the phraseology was not too ill-timed. Then he waited. " Very good, Mr. Borland — very good," the Mod- erator pronounced encouragingly. " But about — about your own soul. I'm sure we all hope you — you — realize your need, Mr. Borland. It's a sense of sin we all need, you know. I'm sure you feel you've been a sinner, Mr. Borland ? " and the good man turned the most brotherly of faces upon the applicant. " Oh, yes," responded David agreeably ; " oh, yes, I'm all right that way — I've been quite a sinner, A BELATED ENQUIRER 83 all right. The only thing I'm afeart of is I've been 'most too good a sinner. I wisht I wasn't quite so handy at it," he went on gravely. " I reckon I've been about as bad as — as any of the deacons here,'' glancing towards the open-mouthed about him as he made the comparison, " an' some o' them's got quite a record, if all reports is true. I traded horses onct with Robert there," nodding familiarly in the direc- tion of Mr. McCaig, " an' the first time we traded, he sinned pretty bad — but that's nothin' ; bygones is bygones — an' anyhow, the second time we traded, I sinned pretty bad myself. So I'm all right that way. Doctor," he again assured the Moderator, making a last desperate effort to tie his hat into a knot. " I didna ken the mare was spavined. Moderator," Mr. McCaig broke in, gasping with emotion ; " an' a meetin' o' session's no place for discussin' sic like matters onyway," he appealed vehemently. " Thae week-day things has nae richt to be mentioned here — a meetin' o' elders is no' a cattle fair," and Robert looked well pleased with this final stroke. " That's all right, Robert, that's all right," David returned in his most amiable tone ; " don't get ex- cited, Robert — we both traded with our eyes open. An' all these things makes life, anyhow — they all go to the weavin' of the web, as I say sometimes, an' besides " But Robert's blood was up. " Onyhow, I didna swear," he exclaimed in a rising tone ; " I didna say damn, Mr. Moderator — an' the 84 THE WEB OF TIME horse-doctor tellt me as how the candidate afore us said damn mair nor aince when he found oot aboot the spavin. He'd mak a bonnie member o' the kirk ! " and the elder's face glowed with righteous indignation. The Moderator cast about to avert the storm. " Maybe he was taken unawares," he interposed charitably ; " any one might be overtaken in a fault. Did you, Mr. Borland — did you say what Mr. McCaig says you did ? " as he turned a very kindly face on the accused. David was more intently employed than ever with his hat. " I won't say but what I mebbe did," he acknowledged, an unfamiliar confusion in his words. " You see, sir, I should a knowed a spavin when I seen it ; the signs is awful easy told — an' that's what made me mad. So I said I was a fool — an' I said Robert here was an elder. An' I likely said both of us was — was that kind of a fool an' an elder, the kind he says I said — it's an awful handy describin' word," he added, nodding respectfully towards the Modera- tor's chair. " So I have heard, Mr. Borland," the Moderator replied, smiling reproachfully nevertheless, " though I think there are others just as good. However, if that is the worst sin you've been guilty of, I wouldn't say you're beyond the pale." " Oh, there's lots of things I've done, far worse than that," David exclaimed vigorously. " I don't allow that's a sin at all — that's just a kind of a spark out o' the chimney. I reckon nearly everybody. A BELATED ENQUIRER 85 even ministers, says that — only they don't spell it just the same. I'd call that just a kind of splutter — an' everybody splutters sometimes. Robert there, he says • bless my soul ' when he gets beat on a trade — but he means just the same as me. Oh, yes," he went cheerfully on, " there's lots o' worse things than that against me. There's lots o' little weak spots about me ; an' I'll tell them if you like — if the deacons'll do the same," he proposed, looking ear- nestly around for volunteers. There was no clamour of response, and it fell to Geordie Nickle again to break the silence. " These is no' the main things, David," he began solemnly. " Tell us, div ye trust the Saviour wi' yir soul?" David halted, the gravity of the question shading his face. " I think — I think I do," he ventured after a long pause. " I wouldn't trust it to no one else. My mother taught me that." " An' div ye want to follow Him, an' to let yir licht shine upon the world ? Div ye want to be a guid soldier, an' wull ye try it, wi' His grace ? " the old man asked tenderly. David's voice was very low. " I'm not very far on the road," he said falteringly, " an' I'm afeared there ain't much light in me — but I'd try an' do my best," he concluded earnestly. The venerable elder proceeded with his gentle art, leading the belated enquirer on from stage to stage, seeking to discover and disclose the hidden treasures of the soul. He was never slow to be convinced of 86 THE WEB OF TIME goodness in any heart that he thought sincere, and it was not long till he turned to the Moderator, pro- posing, as before, that this new name should likewise be enrolled among those of the faithful. But one or two thought the examination hardly doctrinal enough, nor carried sufficiently far afield. " Perhaps Mr. Borland would give us a word or two regarding his views on the subject of temper- ance," suggested Morris Hall. He was a compara- tively modern elder ; in fact, he had been but recently reclaimed, one of the first-fruits of a spring revival, himself snatched from the vortex of intemperance and correspondingly sevfere upon all successors in his folly. For largeness of charity, as a rule, is to be found only with those who have been tempted and prevailed, " I'm not terrible well up on temperance," David began placidly ; " but I don't mind givin' you my views — oh, no, not at all." Then he sank into silence, and the Moderator had finally to prompt him. " Very well, then, Mr. Bor- land, give us your views on the subject." " Well," David began hesitatingly, " my views on the subject of temperance is terrible simple. I really hardly ever take anything — never touch it at all ex- cept it's before or after meals," he assured the breth- ren earnestly, the younger men frowning a little, one or two of the older nodding approvingly. But none seemed to remark how generous was the margin this time-table provided for a man of moist propensities. " Sometimes, when I run acrost an old friend, if he looks kind o' petered out," David went on sym- A BELATED ENQUIRER 87 pathetically, " sometimes then I have a view or two — most always soft stuff, though," he enlarged, looking hopefully towards his spiritual betters ; " most gen- erally they takes the same view as me," he informed them gravely ; " my view is to take it an' let it alone — I do both — only I never do them both at the same time," he added seriously. " You see, when I'm well it doesn't hurt me, and when I'm sick — why, mebbe I need somethin'. That's one o' my views. An', oh, yes " — he hurried on as if glad that he had not for- gotten, " I always take a little when a new century comes in — I took a little when the clock struck 1900 ; it's been a custom for quite awhile in our family, always to take a little when a new century comes in — a man has to be careful it doesn't grow on him, you see. So I confine it pretty much to them two occasions. An' I think them's pretty much all my views, gentlemen, on the subject o' liquors. The less views a man has on them, the better. It's the worst plague there is — an' I'm gettin' more set agin' it all the time," and David nodded to the elders in quite an admonitory way. But these views, simple and candid though they were, were far from satisfactory to Mr. Morris Hall, who violently declaimed against such laxity, and quoted statistics concerning poorhouses, jails and lunatic asylums in much the same tone, and with the same facility, that a boy exhibits when quoting the multiplication table. Mr. Hall concluded with an appeal to David's sense of shame. This was rather much for the gentle candidate, 88 THE IVEB OF TIME familiar as he was with the impeacher's record in days that were yet hardly dry. " There's one thing sure, anyhow," he returned hotly, in his intensity of feeling. " I didn't never have to be toted home on a stone-boat — that's one thing certain." This was a reference to authentic history of no ancient sort, and Mr. Hall's relapse to silence was as final as it was precipitate. Whereupon Geordie Nickle again reverted to his motion that Mr. Borland be received. He briefly reviewed the case, emphasizing the obvious simplicity and candour that had been remarked by all, while ad- mitting David's evident unfamiliarity with the formulas and doctrines of the church. " But there's mony a man loves flowers wha disna ken naethin' aboot botany," he pleaded ; " an' there's mony a soul luvin' Christ, an' trustin' till Him, wha kens little or naethin' aboot theology." This view seemed to prevail with the majority, and the proposal of the kindly elder would doubtless have been speedily endorsed, had it not been for the pro- test from David himself. " I'm terrible thankful for your kindness to a lame duck like me — but I believe I'd jest as soon wait awhile," he said. " I'll try an' follow up the best I can. But Dick Phin's comin' to visit me next week — Dick's an old crony I haven't seen for a dog's age. An' besides, Robert there has kind o' set me thinkin' ; an' I jest minded Tom Tay- lor's comin' on Monday to try an' trade back the three-year-old he got in August. So I think mebbe I'd better wait. But I'll follow up the best I can." X SHELTERING SHADOWS TWO chestnut steeds, securely tied, looked reproachfully at the retreating figures as Madeline and her father pressed on beneath the shadow of the great oaks that looked down upon the merry picnickers. For Glenallen's Sunday- school scholars were en fete beneath them. Very gladly did these mighty guardians of the grove seem to welcome back the happy throng as each returning summer brought the festal day. And very tenderly did they seem to look down upon the varied pleasure- seekers that gathered beneath their whispering branches ; children, in all the helplessness of child- hood, mingling with other toddlers whose was the helplessness of age — little tots whose toilsome jour- ney was at hand, and patriarchs whose weary pil- grimage was almost past. Many were there whose fathers' fathers, snatching a brief truce from their struggle with the poverty and stress of early days, had rested and rollicked as only pioneers know how ; masters and men, their respective ranks forgotten, had sat side by side about the teeming board, or en- tered the lists together as they flung the bounding caber, or raced across the meadow-sward, or heaved the gleaming quoits, or strained the creaking cable in the final and glorious tug of war. 89 go THE WEB OF TIME As David Borland and his daughter drew near to the central group of picnickers, they found them em- ployed in a very savoury task. They were empty- ing the baskets one by one, the good things trans- lated promiscuously to the ample table around which all were about to take their places. Pies of every sort there were, cakes of every imaginable brand and magnitude, sandwiches, fruits, pickles, hams that would waddle, fowls that would cackle, tongues that would join the lowing choir, nevermore — all these conspired to swell the overflowing larder. Suddenly David's eyes fell on a face in the dis- tance, a face for which he had long had a peculiar hking. It was Geordie Nickle's, the old man sitting apart on a little mound, his kindly eyes bright with gladness at the lively scene around him. " You go off an' have a swing, Madeline," he said ; " I'm goin' to have a chat with my friend Geordie here — I'll see you in a little while." Madeline scarcely heard him nor did any response escape her lips. For other words had fallen on her ears, hot and tingling now with shame and indig- nation. " Isn't this the limit," a jibing voice was saying ; " isn't this the human limit ? — rhubarb tarts ! Three of them ! Who wants to buy a tin plate ? " the voice went jeeringly on. It was Cecil Craig's voice, and he held the humble contributions aloft as he spoke. " There must be some awful rich folks here to-day — I guess these tarts are meant for the minister. That's all there is in the basket — so I guess some one must SHELTERING SHADOWS 91 keep a rhubarb farm ; look at the size of them — big as a full moon ! I believe I'll give them to my horse," he cried with a contemptuous laugh. " Have you any idea who sent these, Harvey ? " turning with the question to the conscious boy who stood on the outer edge of the circle. A few joined in thoughtless laughter. But it was no laughing matter for poor Harvey, trying now to steal alone and unnoticed from among the throng. Yet not alone; for one humble little form clung close beside him, retreating as rapidly as he, her face flushed and drawn. They had taken but a few steps when Jessie's hand stole caressingly into her brother's, the little legs trying eagerly to keep pace with his ardent stride. " Don't mind, Harvey, don't mind," she said soothingly. " He's just as mean as he can be. It's all because he's rich — an' he thinks we're poor. He doesn't know how good mother is at makin' tarts, or he wouldn't talk like that." Harvey glanced at his sister as though he scarcely saw her. His eyes, usually so mild, were now almost terrible in their fiery anger, and his hand closed so tightly over his sister's that she cried out in pain. Once he looked swiftly back and caught a glimpse of Cecil leering at him in the distance; he fixed his teeth tight together and strode swiftly on. " Aren't you goin' back, Harvey ? " Jessie enquired a little wistfully. " I'm real hungry, Harvey — an' I saw chickens there, an' there was some peaches too — they looked awful nice," she said earnestly. 92 THE WEB OF TIME " Going back ! " Harvey almost shouted. " No, you bet I'm not going back — and neither are you ; I'd starve before I'd touch a bite of their stuff. A lot of stuck-up things," he cried passionately, " and you and me cast out everywhere because we're poor ! I'll show them yet — you just see if I don't ; if I can get half a chance — and to think the way poor mother worked at them, and she thought she was making something real nice too, and " " An' she put sugar in them too, Harvey — an' she hardly ever puts sugar in anything now. She put lots of butter an' sugar in, for I saw her. But ain't you goin' back, Harvey ? — there's lemonade, you know, a whole boiler full of it. I tasted it and it was lovely," she assured him, looking wistfully up into the angry face. " The young whelp ! " Harvey muttered wrath- fully ; " hasn't any more brains than a handspike — hasn't got anything but a rich, proud father — I'll fix him yet, you see if I don't." Suddenly he stopped, standing still as the trees around him. " Hello ! " he said musingly, then began whistling significantly. " What's the matter, Harvey ? " asked the mystified Jessie. " Oh, nothing — nothing at all. In fact, everything's all right — see that sorrel horse tied to that hemlock over there ? It's Cecil Craig's." " Yes," rephed Jessie wonderingly ; " it's kickin' with its legs," she added informatively — " what's it doin' that for, Harvey ? " " Flies," replied the other absently. " I say, SHELTERING SHADOWS 93 Jessie," he began in quite a different tone, his brow clearing like a headland when the fog is lifting, " you better go on back and get your dinner — don't eat too much," he added cautiously, for Jessie, her hand still tight in his, had already turned right about face, her radiant gaze fixed on the distant tables ; " and you know mother doesn't want you to take any stuffin' — you'll have to take castor oil if you eat any stuffin', Jessie." " Won't you go, Harvey ? " his sister asked eagerly, supremely indifferent to matters medicinal ; she was already pressing onward, half leading her brother by the hand. The boy started to refuse vigorously. Suddenly, however, he seemed to change his mind. " I'll go back with you for a minute, Jessie — ^just a minute, mind. I'll get you a seat if I can ; but I'll have to come right away again. I've got — I've got to do something." The hungry Jessie asked no further information, well content, poor child, to regain the treat she had so nearly lost. Her hurrying legs twinkled in the sun as she led the way, Harvey following, half reluc- tantly, back to the appetizing scene. The boy looked at no one as he mingled with the excited throng ; nor did many remark his return, so all absorbed are youthful minds in one pursuit alone when that pur- suit leads to the dinner-table. This pleased Harvey well ; and, confident of their indifference, he took his place beside the three bulky tarts that had been the text for Cecil's scorn. Good Dr. Fletcher's special care, at such a fete as 94 THE IVEB OF TIME this, was to see that all heads were reverently bowed while grace was being said. And so they were on this occasion, all but Harvey's. Availing himself of the opportune devotion, he thrust the unoffending tarts roughly within the shelter of his coat, buttoning it tightly over them, quite careless of results. Then, wild chaos and savage attack succeeding the reverent calm, while his ravenous companions fell upon the viands like starving animals, he quietly withdrew, holding his coat carefully about him as he went. David Borland and the venerable Geordie Nickle were deep in conversation as Harvey passed them by at a little distance, finding his way back to the outer fringe of woods. " Yon's an uncommon laddie," Geordie remarked to David, his staff pointed in the direction of the dis- appearing boy. " Who ? Oh, yes — that's Harvey. You're right, Mr. Nickle ; the grass doesn't grow very green under Harvey's feet.' He works for me, you know — does a little drivin' between four and six." " Did ye hear aboot the minister, David ? He was sair vexed wi' Mr. Craig ; he went till him, ye ken, to get a wee bit help for the laddie's mither — her eye- sicht's failin', it seems. An' Mr. Craig wudna gie him onythin'." David was busy kicking to pieces a slab of dead wood at his feet. " That man Craig makes me mad," he said warmly — " thinks he owns the earth 'cause he's got a little money. He got the most of it from SHELTERING SHADOWS 95 his father, anyhow — he hasn't got brains enough himself to make his head ache. An' it looks like the young cub's goin' to be a chip o' the old block ; you can see it stickin' right out of him now," he declared, nodding towards the blustering Cecil, who was flinging his orders here and there. " I was thinkin' ower the maitter, David," the old man went on quietly ; " I was thinkin' mebbe I micht gie the puir buddy a wee bit help mysel' — I hae a wee bit siller, ye ken, an' I haena vera muckle to dae wi't. Div ye think ye cud see aboot it, David ? — aboot sendin' his mither till the city doctor, ye ken ? I cud gie the money to yirsel', an' naebody need ken aboot it but us twa." Poor Geordie looked half ashamed as he made the offer ; such is the fashion of his kind. " It's mighty clever of you," David answered, smiling a little curiously, " and I'd be terrible glad to fix it for you — only I happen to know it's fixed al- ready. Just found that out to-day. A fellow sent the money to them — some fellow that doesn't want any one to know. But it's just as good of you, all the same, Mr. Nickle." " Oh, aye, aye, I ken," Geordie responded enigmat- ically, " aye — ^juist that." " Yes, he's a mighty smart boy," David resumed quickly, to hide a little embarrassment. " He works like a beaver all day ; steady as a clock and bright as a dollar. It's a darned shame he hasn't got a better chance — that boy'd be heard from yet if he got some fiddication," he concluded, opening the big blade of 96 THE IVEB OF TIME his jack-knife and beginning operations on a leafy limb he had just broken off. Geordie's face was full of sympathetic interest. " Div ye ken, David, I've been thinkin' the same aboot the laddie. Dr. Fletcher tellt me aboot him first — an' I've been enquirin', an' watchin' him a wee bit in a canny kind o' a way, since the nicht he jined the kirk. An' I've got a wee bit plan, David — I've got a wee bit plan." " Yes, Mr. Nickle ? " David responded encourag- ingly, throwing away the leafy limb and sitting squarely round. " It's no' quite a fittin' time to mak ony promises," the cautious Scotchman went on, seeing that David expected him to continue. " But ye ken, David, I hae neither wife nor bairns noo ; they're a' wi' God," he added, bowing reverently, " an' yon laddie kind o' minds me o' wee Airchie — Airchie died wi' the scarlet fever. An' I've been thinkin', David, I've been thinkin' I never spent the siller that wud hae gone for Airchie's schoolin'. Ye ken, David, div ye no' ? " David knew not how to answer. But his heart was more nimble than his lips. " I was awful sorry when you lost your little boy," he said, his eyes upon the ground ; " I never had a son myself — so you're better off nor me." XI FOOD FOR THOUGHT ONE pair of eyes, at least, had watched Harvey's unostentatious retreat from the clamorous throng about the table. And no sooner had Madeline noted his departure than she quietly slipped into the vacant place beside his sister, who welcomed her with a smile as generous as the absorbing intensity of the moment would permit. Madeline's cheeks were still rosy with the flush of angry resentment that Cecil's cruel words had started. Twice had he taken his place beside her at the table, and twice she had moved away ; even now his eyes seemed to follow her, casting conciliatory glances that found no response. The picnic feast was finally concluded — but not till sheer physical inability proclaimed a truce — and Madeline and Jessie withdrew together. " Let's go down into the gully, Jessie," Madeline suggested, pointing towards a slight ravine a little way in the distance ; " I think we'd find flowers there, perhaps." Jessie was agreed. " But I wish Harvey would come," she said ; " I wonder where he is — he went away just when we began our dinner." 97 98 THE IVEB OF TIME " Oh, he's all right," replied the older girl. " I saw him going away — he'll be back in a little." " An' I didn't see — I didn't see the rhubarb tarts mother made," Jessie continued, her mind still busy with the missing. " You don't suppose Cecil Craig threw them away, do you ? " she asked, suddenly fearful ; " he's so mean." " Don't let's speak about him at all," Madeline interrupted. " The tarts are all right," she went on consolingly. " I saw one boy very — very busy with them," she concluded dexterously. " Besides," she added, the connection not so obvious as her tone would indicate, " I've got something to say to you, Jessie — sit down ; sit down beside me here." Jessie obeyed and they sank together on a mossy mound, a few stately oaks and maples whispering welcome ; for they were jealous trees, and had be- grudged the central grove its throng of happy chil- dren, the merry scene just visible from their topmost boughs. " I've got awful good news for you, Jessie," Made- line began ardently, after a momentary struggle as to how she should introduce the subject. " What's it about ? " Jessie asked, her eyes open- ing wide. " It's about your mother," answered Madeline. Jessie looked gravely at the other. "Anything about the tarts?" she enquired earnestly, her mind still absorbed with the tragedy. " No, no — of course it's not about anything like FOOD For THOUGHT 99 that. It's about her eyes — I'm pretty sure they're going to get well." Jessie's own were dancing. " Who said so ? Why? Tell me quick." " Well, I know all about everything," Madeline repHed^ importantly. " I know about you wanting to take her to the doctor in the city — and she's going to go," she affirmed conclusively. " When ? " Jessie demanded swiftly. " Any time — to-morrow, if you like," Madeline returned triumphantly, withdrawing her hand from her bosom and thrusting the crisp notes into Jessie's ; " my father gave me all that money to-day — and it's to pay the doctor — it's to pay everything," she amended jubilantly. " Only father doesn't want any one to know who did it — when do you think she'll go, Jessie ? " she asked, a little irrelevantly, for matters had taken a rather unexpected turn. Jessie was staring at her through swimming eyes, the import of the great moment too much for her childish soul. Her mother's face passed before her, beautiful in iis tender patience ; and all the pathos of the long struggle, so nearly over now, broke upon the little mind that knew not what pathos meant except by the slow tuition of a sorrow-clouded life. Poor child, she little knew by what relentless limi- tations even great city doctors may be bound. " Is it because you're glad, Jessie ? " Madeline enquired in a reverent sort of voice, dimly diagnos- ing the paradox of human joy. But Jessie an- swered never a word ; her gaze was fixed downward 100 THE WEB OF TIME now upon the money, such a sum of it as she had never seen before in her poor meagre life. And the big tears fell on the unconscious things lying in her lap, the poor dead symbols baptized and quick- ened by the living tokens of human love and feeling. " Oh, yes," she sobbed at last, " it's 'cause I'm glad — mother'!! be able to see the flowers now, an' the birds, an' everything — she loves them so. An' poor Harvey won't liave to spend his raspberry money; he hasn't any winter coat, but now — I'm nearly as glad for Harvey as I am for mother," she broke off, suddenly drying her eyes, the ever-ready smile of childhood returning to the playground from which the tears had driven it. " What makes you so glad about Harvey ? " Madeline broke in, hailing the returning smile with one no less radiant of her own. " Because — because mother was sorrier about Har- vey than anything else. You see, he's nearly ready to — to be a scholar. An' mother always said she'd be able to do everything for Harvey — everything like that, you know — if she could only see. Our Harvey's goin' to be a great man — if he gets a chance," she prophesied solemnly, looking straight into Madeline's face, the bills quite forgotten now, one or two of them having fallen among the leaves upon the grass. " Mind you, our Harvey isn't always goin' to be poor — mother says there's lots of rich people gets poor, an' lots of poor people gets rich. An' that's what Harvey's goin' to be — an' mother an' me's FOOD For THOUGHT loi goin' to help him," the little loyalist proclaimed, her face beaming with confidence. This opened up quite a vein of conversation, to which the youthful minds addressed themselves for a serious season. Finally, forgetting all philosophic matters, Jessie exclaimed : " I wonder where Harvey is — he doesn't often leave me alone like this. Won't he be glad though ? — I'm goin' to find Harvey." Little did either of them dream how the object of their wonderings had been employed while they were sequestered in their peaceful nook. Having left the table, Harvey loitered about till varying sounds assured him that the meal he had abandoned was completed. Then he strode along till he stood "beside the drowsy sorrel, still doing spasmodic battle with the flies. Unbuttoning his coat, he removed the tarts and hid them in a hollow log; their confinement had not improved them much. Then he stood a while, pondering. A re- lieved and purposeful expression at length indicated that his mind was formed. But considerable time elapsed before a wandering urchin hove in sight — and such a being was absolutely necessary. The boy who thus suddenly appeared was evidently bent on an inspection of the animal, looking even from afar with the critical eye that universal boyhood turns upon a horse. The youngster drifted nearer and nearer ; he was contriving to chew a slab of tamarack gum and eat an apple at one and the self-same time, which tempered his gait considerably. 102 fHE WEB OF TIME Harvey nimbly slipped the noose in the bridle rein, the strap dangling free ; the horse was quite oblivious, trying to snatch a little sleep between skirmishes. " Hello there ! " Harvey called to the boy, " come here — I want you to run a message." The boy responded with a slightly quickened pace, and was almost at his side when he suddenly stood still and emitted a dreary howl. " What's the matter ? " Harvey asked, slightly alarmed, the sorrel waking completely and looking around at the newcomer. " I bit my tongue," the urchin wailed, disgorging his varied grist as he spoke. The dual process had been too complicated for him and he cautiously pasted the gum about a glass alley, storing both away in his breeches pocket. Then he bent his un- divided powers upon the apple. " That'll soon be all right," Harvey assured him— " rub it with your gums," he directed luminously. " Don't you see that horse is loose ? — well, I want you to run back and tell Cecil Craig his horse has got untied ; don't tell him who said so." " What'U you give me ? " enquired he of the wounded tongue, extending the injured member with telescopic fluency, squinting one eye violently down to survey it. " Is it bleedin' ? " he asked tenderly. " No — 'tisn't even cut," Harvey responded curtly, examining it seriously, nevertheless, with the sym- pathy that belongs to boyhood. " Let it back — you loolc like a jay-bird." FOOD For THOUGHT 103 The other withdrew it reluctantly, the distorted eye slowly recovering its orbit till it rested on Harvey's face. " What'U you give me ? " he asked again, making another savage onslaught on the apple. Harvey fumbled in his pocket, rather dismayed. But his face lightened as his hand came forth. " I'll give you this tooth-brush," he said, holding out a sorely wasted specimen. " I found it on the railroad track — some one dropped it, I guess. Or I'll give you this garter," exposing a gaudy circlet of elastic, fatigued and springless ; " I found it after the circus moved away." The smaller boy's face lit up a moment at reference to the sacred institution whose departure had left life so dreary. " Charlie Winter found a shirt-stud an' half a pair of braces there," he said sympathetically ; " he gave the shirt-stud to his sister, but he wears the braces hisself," he added, completing the humble tale. " Which'll you take ? " Harvey enquired abruptly, fearful lest the sorrel might awaken to his liberty. " I don't want that," the younger said contemp- tuously, glancing at the emaciated tooth-brush ; " we've got one at home — a better one than that. An' I don't wear garters," he added scornfully, glancing downwards at his bare legs, " except on Sundays, an' I've got one for that — the left leg never comes down. Haven't you got anything else ? " he queried, looking searchingly in the direction of Har- vey's pocket. " No, that's all I've got," returned Harvey as he I04 THE WEB OF TIME restored the tooth-brush to its resting-place, still hopeful, however, of the garter. " It'll make an awful good catapult," he suggested seriously. " Let me see it," said the bargainer. Harvey handed it to him. " I'll hold your apple," he offered. " Oh, never mind," the other replied discreetly ; " I'll just hold it in my mouth,"' the memory of similar service and its tragic outcome floating before him. The boy took the flaming article in his hand and drew it back, snapping it several times against the sole of his uphfted foot. " All right," he said, withdrawing what survived of the apple, " it's a little mushy — but I'll take it." The errand having been repeated in detail, the youngster departed to perform it, an apple stem — but never a core — falling by the wayside as he went. Harvey gazed towards the brow of the hill till he caught the first glimpse of a hurrying form, then slipped in behind the tree, carefully concealed. Cecil Craig came apace, for he could see the dangling strap at a little distance. Hurriedly re- tying the horse, he was about to retrace his steps when he suddenly felt himself in the grip of an evi- dently hostile hand, securely attached from behind to the collar of his coat. " Now you can ask me those questions if you like," he heard a rather hoarse voice saying; and writhing round he looked into a face flaming with a wrath that was rekindling fast. Young Craig both squirmed and squealed ; but the FOOD For THOUGHT 105 one was as fruitless as the other. Harvey was bent on dealing faithfully with him ; and lack of spirit, rather than of strength, made the struggle a comparatively unequal one. After the preliminary application was completed, he dragged Craig to where he had hidden the rhubarb tarts, still crestfallen from solitary con- finement. " Why don't you make some more jokes about the tarts my mother made?" Harvey enquired hotly; " you were real funny about them just before dinner." This reference to his mother seemed to fan the flame of his wrath anew, and another appli- cation was the natural result. " Let me go," Cecil gasped. " I was only joking — ouch ! I was just joking, I say," as he tried to re- lease himself from Harvey's tightening grip. "So'm I," retorted Harvey; "just a piece of play, the same as yours — only we're kind o' slow at seeing the fun of it, eh ? " shaking the now solemn humour- ist till his hair rose and fell — " I'd have seen the point a good deal quicker if my mother hadn't worked so hard," he went on, flushing with the recollection and devoting himself anew to the facetious industry. " Pick up those tarts," he thundered suddenly. Cecil looked incredulously at his antagonist. One glance persuaded him and he slowly picked up one by the outer edge. " Take 'em all — the whole three," Harvey directed in a low tense tone. Which Cecil immediately did, not deeming the time opportune to refuse. "Now give them to your horse," Harvey said; io6 THE WEB OF TIME " you know you said you'd a good mind to feed him with them." " I won't do it," Cecil declared stoutly. " I'll fight before I do it." Harvey smiled. " It won't do to have any fight- ing," he said amiably. " I'll just give them to him myself — you better come along," he suggested, tightening his grip as he saw Cecil glancing fondly towards the brow of the hill, visions of a more peace- ful scene calling him to return. Harvey escorted his captive to the horse's head ; the equine was now wide awake and taking a lively interest in the animated interview; such preparations for mounting he had never seen before. But he was evidently disinclined to be drawn into the argument ; for when Harvey held the rhubarb pie, rather battle- worn now, beneath his nose, he sniffed contemptu- ously and turned scornfully away. Cecil, somewhat convalescent, indulged a sneering little laugh. " Your little joke don't work," he said. " Pompey won't look at 'em." " You'll wish he had, before you're through with them," Harvey returned significantly — " you've got to eat them between you." " Got to what ? — between who ? " Cecil gasped, years of grammatical instruction wasted now as the dread prospect dawned grim and gray ; " I don't understand you," he faltered, turning remarkably white for one so utterly in the dark. " It doesn't need much understanding," Harvey returned laconically. " Go ahead." FOOD For THOUGHT 107 Then the real struggle began ; compared to this difference of opinion, and the physical demonstra- tion wherein it found expression, the previous en- counter was but as kittens' frolic in the sun. The opening argument concluded after a protracted struggle, Harvey emerged uppermost, still pressing his hospitality upon the prostrate Cecil. " May as well walk the plank," he was saying ; " besides, they're get- ting dryer all the time," he informed him as a friend. " Let me up," gurgled Cecil. Harvey promptly released him ; seated on a log, the latter began to re- new the debate. " I've had my dinner," he pleaded ; " an' I ate all I could." " A little more won't hurt you — always room at the top, you know. Anyhow it's just dessert," re- sponded Harvey, holding out one of the tarts. Whereat Cecil again valiantly refused — and a worthy demonstration followed. The conquered at last kissed the rod and the solemn operation began, Harvey cheerfully breaking off chunk after chunk and handing them to the weary muncher. "There's lots of poor children in New York would be glad to get them," he said in answer to one of Cecil's most vigorous protests. " Say," murmured the stall-fed as he paused, al- most mired in the middle of tart number two, " let me take the rest home an' eat 'em there — I'll really eat 'em — on my honour ; I promise you," he declared solemnly. " I'm surprised a fellow brought up like you would K)8 THE IVEB OF TIME think of carryin' stuff home to eat it — that's bad form. Here, take it — shut your eyes and open your mouth," commanded his keeper, holding another gen- erous fragment to his lips. " I say," gulped Cecil plaintively, " give us a drink — it's chokin' me." " Shouldn't drink at your meals," returned Harvey ; " bad for your digestion — but I guess a drop or two won't hurt you. Here, come this way — put on your cap — an' fetch that along," pointing at the surviving tart ; " the exercise'll do you good," and he led the way downwards to a little brook meandering through the woods. No hand was on the victim's collar now ; poor Cecil was in no shape for flight. " Give us your cap," said Harvey, thrusting it into the sparkling water and holding the streaming re- ceptacle to Cecil's lips ; " that's enough — that'll do just now ; don't want you to get foundered." " I've had enough," groaned the guest a minute later, as if the moment had only come ; " I've got it nearly all down — an' I hate crusts. I won't ; by heavens, I tell you I won't," bracing himself as vigor- ously as his cargo would permit. " I'm the one to say when you've had enough," Harvey retorted shortly, throwing himself into bat- tle array as he spoke, " an' you bet you'll eat the crusts — I'll teach you to eat what's set before you an' make no remarks about the stuff — specially when it's not your own," he said, reverting to the original of- fense and warming up at the recollection. " You'd make a great fight, wouldn't you — fightin' you'd be FOOD For THOUGHT 109 like fightin' a bread-puddin'," he concluded scorn- fully. Cecil munched laboriously on. " There," Harvey suddenly interrupted, " now you've had enough — that wasn't rhubarb you were eatin'," he flung con- temptuously at him ; " 'twas crow — an' that'll teach you to make sport of folks you think beneath you. You'll have some food for thought for a while — ^you'd better walk round a bit," he concluded with a grin as he turned and strode away, leaving the inlaid Cecil alone with his burdened bosom. XII THE ENCIRCLING GLOOM REAL boyhood, with its cheerfulness amid present cares and its obHvion to those that were yet to come, was almost past. Such at least would have been the opinion of any accurate observer if he had noted Harvey's face that summer morning as he pressed along the city street. A deeper seriousness than mere years bestow looked out from the half-troubled, half-hopeful gaze ; not that it was ill-becoming — the contrary rather — for there was something of steady resoluteness in his eyes that at- tested his purpose to play some worthy part in this fevered life whose stern and warlike face had already looked its challenge to his own. How pathetic were many a poor procession — and how romantic too — if we could but see the invisibles that accompany the humblest trudgers on the hum- blest street ! For Memory and Hope and Fear and Sorrow and silent Pain — Death too, noiselessly pursuing— and Love, chiefest of them all, mute and anguished often- times, crowding Death aside and battling bravely in the shadowy struggle ; how often might all these be seen accompanying the lowly, had we but the light- ened vision ! 110 The ENCIRCLING GLOOM in Thus was it there that summer day. The careless noticed nothing but a well developed lad, his poor clothes as carefully repaired and brushed as faithful hands could make them for his visit to the city ; and they saw beside him only a white-faced woman, her whole mien marked by timidity and gentleness, as if she felt how poor and small was the part she played in the surging life about her. Both made their way carefully, keeping close in under the shadow of the buildings, as if anxious to escape the jostling throng. The woman's hand was in her son's ; she seemed to be trusting altogether to his guidance and protection, and very tenderly he shielded her from the little perils of the street. Timidly, yet right eagerly, they made their way — for the quest was a great one ; and all the years to come, they kne\y, were wrapped in the bosom of that anxious hour. " Hadn't we better get on one of those street cars, mother ? " the boy asked, glancing wistfully at a pass- ing trolley. " I'm sure you're tired." " How much does it cost, Harvey ? " the mother asked. " I'm not very sure, but I think it's ten cents for us both," he answered, relaxing his pace. The mother pressed on anew. " We can't afford it, dear," she said ; " it'll take such a lot to pay the doctor — we'll have to save all we can ; and I'm not very tired," she concluded, taking his hand again. When, after much of scrutiny and more of enquiry, they stood at length before the doctor's imposing 112 THE WEB OF TIME place, both instinctively stopped and gazed a little, the outlines of the stately house floating but very dimly before the woman's wistful eyes. " Will we ask him how much it costs before we go in ? " Harvey's mother asked him anxiously. The boy pondered a moment. " I don't think so," he said at length ; " he mightn't like it." " But perhaps we haven't got enough." " Well, we can send the rest after we get home — I've got the raspberry money left." The woman sighed and smiled together, permitting herself to be led on up the steps. Harvey's hand was on the bell : " You don't sup- pose he'll do anything to you, will he, mother ? He won't hurt you, will he ? " " No, no, child, of course not ; he'll make me well," his mother said reassuringly. In a moment the bell was answered and the excited pair were ush- ered in. Nothing could have been more kindly than their reception at the hands of the eminent doctor ; nor could the most distinguished patient have been more carefully and sympathetically examined. Almost breathless, Harvey sat waiting for the verdict. But the doctor was very vague in his conclusions. " You must use this lotion. And — and we'll hope for the best," he said ; " and whenever you're in the city you must come and see me — don't make a special trip for that purpose, of course," he added cautiously. " Why ? " Harvey asked acutely. The ENCIRCLING GLOOM 113 The doctor made an evasive reply. Harvey's face was dark. " How much is it ? " he said in a hollow voice, his hand going to his pocket as he spoke. " Oh, that's not important — we'll just leave that till you're in the city again," said the kindly doctor, shaking Harvey playfully by the shoulder. " I'd sooner pay it now, sir ; I've got — I've got some money," declared the boy. " Well, all right," returned the physician ; " let me see — how would a dollar appeal to you ? My charge will be one dollar," he said gravely. Harvey was busy unwinding his little roll. " It's not very much," he said without looking up ; "I thought 'twould be a lot more than that — I haven't got anything smaller than five dollars, sir." " Neither have I — what a rich bunch we are," the doctor answered quickly ; " I tell you — I'm liable to be up in Glenallen some of these days for a bowl- ing match ; I'll just collect it then," leading the way towards the door as he spoke, his farewell full of cordial cheer. Neither mother nor son uttered a word till they were some little distance from the doctor's office. Suddenly the former spoke. " The world's full of trouble, Harvey — but I be- lieve it's fuller of kindness. It's wonderful how many tender-hearted folks there are. Wasn't it good of him?;' Harvey made no answer, but his hand loosened it- 114 THE ^EB OF TIME self from hers. " I believe I — I forgot something," he said abruptly. " Just wait here, mother ; I'll be back in just a minute — you can rest here, see," lead- ing her to a bench on the green sward of a little crescent not much more than half a stone's throw away. A minute later he was back in the doctor's office, the surprised physician opening the door himself. " What's the matter, boy — forgotten something ? " he queried. " No," Harvey answered stoutly, his face very white ; " but I knew you didn't tell me everything, sir — and I want to know. I want you to tell me now, quick — mother's waiting." " Why do you want to know, laddie ? " " Because she's my mother, sir. And I've got a little sister at home — and I'm going to take care of them both ; and I want to know if mother's eyes are going to get better, sir," he almost panted, one state- ment chasing the other as fast as the words could come. The doctor's face was soft with grave compassion ; long years of familiarity with human suffering had not chilled that sacred fire. Putting his arm about the youth's shoulder, he drew the throbbing form close to him. " My boy," he began in a low voice, " I won't deceive you. Your mother's eyesight is almost gone. But still," he hastened on as the lad started and turned his pleading eyes up to the doc- tor's face, " it might come back — you can never tell. It's an affection of the optic nerve — it's often The ENCIRCLING GLOOM 115 aggravated by a violent shock of some kind — and I've had cases where it did come back. It might return, lad, might come very slowly or very suddenly — and I can say no more than that." The poor boy never moved; the mournful eyes never wandered an instant from the doctor's face. The silence seemed long ; at least to the physician. One or two patients had arrived meantime, waiting in the outer room — and a coachman's shining hat could be seen through the spacious window. But it did not dawn on Harvey that such a doctor could have any other care in all the world, or any serious duty except such as now engrossed them both. " What are you going to do ? " the physician said presently. " I'm going back to my mother," the boy an- swered simply, picking up his hat. " Oh, yes," and the other repressed a smile ; " but I mean — what are you going to do at home ? What will you go at in Glenallen — you go to school, don't you ? " " I'm going to work all the time," Harvey replied resolutely, moving along the hall. The doctor's hand was on the door. " I'm sorry for you, my lad," he said gently. " But there's always hope — we're all God's patients after all," he added earnestly. Harvey put his hand against the opening door, his face turning in fullness of candour and trust towards the doctor. " I've prayed about mother for a long time," he ii6 THE WEB OF TIME said ; " is it any use to keep on, sir ? You're a specialist and you ought to know." The doctor closed the door quite tight. " Don't let any specialist settle that matter for you," he said a little hoarsely, " It often seems as if the good Lord wouldn't begin till they get through. So you pray on, my lad — for there's no healing, after all, but comes from God." Then he opened the door and the broken-hearted went out into the street. Suffused and dim, blinking bravely through it all, were the mournful eyes as Harvey retraced his steps towards his mother; swift and deep was the train of thought that wound its way through his troubled mind. For there is no ally to deep and earnest thinking like a loving heart that anguish has bestirred — all true quickening of our mental faculties is the handiwork of the soul. Harvey saw the trees, the sky, the birds between — all differ- ent now, more precious, more wonderful to behold ; for he saw them in the light of his mother's deep- ening darkness, and the glory of all that was evan- ishing from her appeared the more beautiful, pitifully beautiful, to his own misty eyes. Involuntarily he thought of the future ; of the twilight years that lay beyond — and his inward eyes turned shuddering away. The years that were past, those at least that had come and gone before the threatening shadow first appeared, seemed to lie behind him like a lane of light. Poverty and ob- scurity and sorrow and care had been well content to abide together in their humble home — almost rhe ENCIRCLING GLOOM 117 their only guests save love. Yet his memory now of those earlier years was only of their gladness, their happiness, their light — all the rest had vanished like a dream when one awakes. He remembered only that they two, the fatherless, had been wont to look deep and lovingly into the eyes that looked back their wealth of fondness into the children's faces — night or day, day or night, that hght was never quenched ; they could see her and she could see them — and to look was to possess, though his early thoughts could not have defined this mystic truth, cherish it fondly though they did. But for the future — ah me ! for the future, with blindness in a mother's eyes. Yet Harvey's thought, swift and pensive as it was, was troubled by no prospect of burden for himself and by no apprehension of all the load that must be moved, under cover of the fast-falling dark, from his mother's shoulders to his own. His thought was what must be called heart-thought, and that alone. If a fleeting view of new responsibilities, or a melt- ing picture of his sister's face, hung for a moment before the inward eye, it retreated fast before the great vision that flooded his soul with tenderness, the vision of a woman — and she his mother — sitting apart in the silence and the dark, the busy hands denied the luxury of work, the ever-open Bible closed before her, the great world of beauty receding into shadow ; and, most of all, there rose before him the image of her face, unresponsive and unsmiling when ii8 THE IVEB OF TIME the tender eyes of her own children should fall upon it, mutely searching, yearning silently for the an- swering sunshine of days that would come no more. Without a word Harvey took his seat beside his mother. Her hand slipped quietly out and took his own, but without speech or sound — and in that moment Harvey learned, as he had never known be- fore, how cruel are the lips of silence. Suddenly he noticed a cab, rolling idly along, the driver throwing his eyes hither and thither, poising like a kingfisher for its plunge. The boy raised his hand in signal and the cabby swooped down upon him like one who has found his prey. " Get in, mother — we'll drive back," he said quietly. His mother, startled beyond measure at the pros- pect of extravagance so unwonted, began to remon- strate, almost refusing. But a different note seemed to have come into Harvey's voice, his words touched with something that indicated a new era, something of the authority that great compassion gives, and in a moment she found herself yielding with a de- pendent confidence she had never felt before. " Where to ? " asked the man. " Anywhere," said Harvey — " somewhere near the station ; I'll tell you where." " It'll — it'll cost a dollar," the man ventured, his hand still on the door and his eyes making a swift inventory of the boy's rather unpromising apparel. " I'll pay you," the latter answered sternly. " Shut The ENCIRCLING GLOOM 119 the door ; close the window too," he ordered — " close both the windows. And don't drive fast." The spendthrift impulse must have been heaven- born and that vagrant chariot been piloted from afar. For they two within felt something of sanctuary peace as the driver vanished to his place and they found themselves alone — alone with each other and the sorrow that was deep and thrilling as their love. They could hear and feel the busy tide of life about them ; the pomp of wealth and the tumult of business frowned from towering mansions, or swept indiffer- ent by, knowing nothing, caring less, about those nestling two who were all alone in the mighty city — but they had each other, and the haughty world was shut out from them, all its cruel grandeur, all its surging billows powerless to rob them of what their stricken hearts held dear. And, if the truth were told, many a stately house and many a flashing car- riage that passed them by, held less of love's real wealth than did the mud-bespattered cab that creaked and rumbled on its way. Several minutes elapsed before either spoke. Then the mother turned towards the silent lad, her face sweet in the wistful smile that stole across it. " Did you find what you went back for, dear ? " she asked. Harvey cast one sharp agonized glance towards the gentle face — and it told him all. He knew then that the pain of either concealing or revealing was to be spared him ; but his heart leaped in pity and in boundless love as he saw the light upon the worn 120 THE WEB OF TIME face, the brave and tender signal that he knew the wounded spirit had furnished all for him. He spoke no answer to her words; he knew that she expected none. But the answer came nevertheless, and in richer language than halting words could learn. For he rose half erect in the carriage, careless as to whether the world's disdain- ful eye might see, his arms stealing around the yield- ing and now trembling form with a strength and passion that were the gift of the first really anguished hour his life had ever known. The woman felt its power, caught its message, even inwardly rejoiced in the great security; pa- vilion like to this she had never found before in all her storm-swept life. " Oh, Harvey," she murmured at last, " Harvey, my son, God's been good to me ; I'm almost happy when — when I feel how much you are to me now — and Jessie too," she added quickly ; " poor Jessie — it'll be hard for her." Mutely, reverently, guided from on high, Harvey strove to speak the burden of his heart. But it ended only in tears and tender tokens of hand and lip, his sorrow outpouring the story of its pity and devotion as best it could. " I'll always take care of you, mother," he whis- pered ; " always — just like you've taken care of us. And we'll wait till you get better, mother — we'll wait together." His mother's fingers were straying about his hair. " I know it, darling," she said ; " some ways I'm so The ENCIRCLING GLOOM 12I poor, Harvey ; but other ways I'm wonderfully rich — ^the highest ways. And now, Harvey," straighten- ing up as she spoke, " there's something I want to attend to. You must tell the man to drive to a store where we get clothes — coats and things, you know, I want to get something." " What ? " asked Harvey suspiciously. " It's for you. It's a winter coat — you know you haven't one, Harvey." Then followed a stout protest and then a vigorous debate. But the mother conquered. " You mustn't forget that I'm your mother, Harvey," she finally urged, and Harvey had no response for that. But after they had alighted and the purchase had been duly made he contrived to withdraw the genial sales- man beyond reach of his mother's hearing. " Have you got something the same price as this ? " he asked hurriedly; " something for a lady — a cloak, or a dressing-gown — one that would fit, you know," he said, glancing in the direction of his mother. The clerk was responsive enough ; in a moment the exchange was effected, and Harvey, his mother's arm linked with his, led the way out to the crowded street. They made their way back to the station. As Harvey passed within its arching portals, he be- thought himself sadly of the high hope, now almost dead and gone, that had upborne his heart when last he had passed beneath them. It seemed like months, rather than a few hours, so charged with suspense and feeling had those hours been. The train was in readiness and they were soon 122 rHE WEB OF TIME settled for the homeward journey. But scarcely had they begun to move when the door before them opened and Cecil Craig made his appearance. He evidently knew that Harvey and his mother were aboard, for his eye roamed enquiringly over the passengers, resting as it fell on the two serious faces. Suddenly he seemed to note that Harvey had pre- empted the seat opposite to the one on which he and his mother had taken their places ; a small valise and the parcel containing the surreptitious purchase were lying on it. Whereupon Cecil strode forward. " Take those things off," he hectored — " Want the whole train to yourself? Don't you know that's against the rules — I want to sit there." Harvey had not seen him approaching, for his eyes had been furtively studying his mother's face. He started, looking up at Cecil almost as though he were not there ; then he quietly removed the encum- brances and even turned the seat for Cecil to take his place. He wondered dumbly to himself what might be the cause of this strange calmness, this absolute indifference ; he did not know how a master-sorrow can make all lesser irritations like the dust. " Keep it," Cecil said insolently. " I'm going back to the Pullman — I wanted to see who'd walk the plank to-day," casting at Harvey a contemptuous sneer the latter did not even see. And no thought of Cecil, or his insult, or his phantom triumph, mingled with Harvey's grave reflections as they rolled swiftly homeward ; he had other matters to consider, of more importance far. XIII THE DEWS OF SORROW THE dusk was gathering about them as the returning travellers wended their way along the almost deserted street. The dim out- line of the slumbering hills could be seen across the river — for Glenallen had grown in a circle upon sur- rounding heights — and as Harvey's eyes rested now and again upon them in the dying light of the sum- mer day, he felt a secret sense of help and comfort, as if some one knew and cared for his clouded life. It seemed good to walk these streets again — so differ- ent from those of the city — with the familiar faces and the kindly voices; and often was he stopped and questioned, not without delicacy and chaste reserve, as to the outcome of their pilgrimage. Which gave his heart some balm, at least for the moment. " Look, mother," he cried suddenly, forgetting in his eagerness ; " look — I can see our light," his face glowing as if the gleam were from palace windows. His mother raised her head quickly, as if she also saw. Perhaps it was even clearer to her, though she beheld it not. But together they quickened their pace, for they knew that earth's dearest shelter, how humble soever it might be, was just before. And as they came closer, Harvey could see, the 123 U4 '^HE WEB OF TIME white frock showing clear against the shadows, the outHne of his sister's form. Poor child, the day had been long for her, waiting and wondering, the portent of the tidings that the night might bring mingling with all her childish thoughts. She was moving out from the door-step now, peering eagerly, starting for- ward or restraining herself again as doubt and cer- tainty of the approaching pair impelled her. Sud- denly she seemed to be quite sure, and with a little cry she bounded along the street, the eager footfalls pattering with the rapidity of love. The mother knew that music well ; her hand slipped out of Harvey's grasp, the hungry arms out- stretched as she felt the ardent form approaching — and in a moment, tears and laughter blending, the girlish arms were tight about the mother's neck and warm kisses were healing the wound within. Presently Jessie withdrew her face from the heaving bosom, her eyes turned wistfully upon her mother's, plain- tively searching for the cure her childlike hope had expected to find obvious at a glance. Disappoint- ment and pain spoke from her eyes — she could see no difference — and she turned almost reproachfully upon her brother. " What did he — what ? " she began ; but some- thing on Harvey's face fell like a forbidding finger on her lips and her question died in silence. " I brought you something pretty from the city, Jessie," the mother broke in. She knew what had checked the words. " It's in the satchel, dear — and we'll open it as soon as we get home." The DEWS of SORROW 125 "What's in that other bundle?" asked the child. " It's Harvey's winter coat," replied the mother. " I'm so glad," Jessie said simply. " And oh, I've got good news too," she went on enthusiastically, " I sold three pairs of those knitted stockings — all myself; and the man wouldn't take any change — I only asked him once. It was thirty-one cents — and the money's in the cup," she concluded eagerly as they passed within the little door, the bell above clanging their welcome home. The valise was duly opened and Jessie's present produced amid great elation. Only a simple blue sash, selected by her brother with grave deliberation from the assortment on a bargain counter that lay like victims on an altar ; but Jessie's joy was beauti- ful to behold, aided and abetted in it as she was by the other two, both mother and son trying on the flashing girdle, only to declare that it became Jessie best of all. Suddenly the girl exclaimed : " Oh, Harvey, the chickens missed you so. I'm sure they did — Snappy wouldn't take any supper. They're in bed, of course, but I don't think they're sleeping — let's just go out and see them. Come." Harvey was willing enough, and the two sallied out together. But Jessie held her hand tight on the door, drowsy chucklings within all unheeded, as she turned her white face upon her brother. " Now," she said imperiously, the voice low and strained, " tell me — tell me quick, Harvey." 126 fHE WEB OF TIME " I thought you wanted me to see the chickens," he evaded. " I hate the chickens — and that was a he about Snappy's supper. I just wanted to ask you about mother. Tell me quick, Harvey." Harvey stammered something ; but he needed to say no more — the girl sank sobbing at his feet. " I knew it," she cried. " I just knew it — oh, mother, mother ! And she'll soon never see again, and it'll always be night all the time — an' she'll never look at you or me any more, Harvey, she'll never look at you or me again. An' I got a little photo- graph took to-day, a little tintype- — just five cents — an' I thought she'd be able to see it when she came back. Oh, Harvey, Harvey," and the unhappy child, long years a struggler with poverty and cloud, poured forth, almost as with a woman's voice, the first strain of anguish her little heart had ever known. Harvey sank beside her, his arm holding her close. The twilight was now deepening into dark, a fitting mantel for these two enshadowed hearts. The still form of the bending brother, already giving promise of manhood's strength, seemed, even in outward as- pect, to speak of inner compassion as he bended over the slender and weaker frame of his little sister. Strong and fearless and true he was ; and if any eye had been keen enough to penetrate that encircling gloom and catch a vision of all that lay behind the humble scene, the knightly soul of the struggling boy would have stood forth like a sheltering oak — so powerless, nevertheless, to shield the clinging life be- The DEIVS of SORROIV 127 side him, overswept as it was by the winds and waves of sorrow. But the purpose and the heart were there — ^the fatherless spreading gentle wings above the fatherless — and the scene was a holy one, typical of all humanity at its highest, and faintly fal- tering the story of the Cross. For if human tender- ness and pity are not lights, broken though they be, of the great Heart Divine, then all life's noblest voices are but mockery and lies. " Don't, Jessie, please don't," he murmured, his own tears flowing fast. " It'll only keep her from getting better — she'll see your eyes all red an' " " She won't — she can't," sobbed the girl ; " you know she can't — she can't see, Harvey," a fresh tide outbreaking at the thought. " But she'll feel it, Jessie. Mothers can feel every- thing like that — 'specially everybody's own mother," he urged, vainly trying to control his own grief. " And anyhow, the doctor said she might get better some time — perhaps all of a sudden. And we've got to help her, Jessie ; and we've got to make her happy too — and we can — mother said we could," he cried, his tone growing firmer as the great life-work loomed before him. Hope is the most contagious of all forms of health ; and with wonderful gentleness and power the youth- ful comforter drew the sobbing heart beside him into the shelter of his own tender courage, the hiding- place of his own loving purpose. Soon Jessie was staring, wide-eyed, at her brother, as he unfolded the new duties they must perform together. That word 128 THE WEB OF TIME itself was never used, but her heart answered, as all true hearts must ever answer, to the appeal of God. " I'll try, Harvey," she said at last. " I'll do the best I can to help mother to get well — an' I'll get up in the mornings an' make the porridge myself," she avowed, smiling, the first step showing clear. Hand in hand they went back to the house, the light of eager purpose upon both their faces. As they entered, a familiar voice fell on Harvey's ear. " We was jest a-goin' by,"— it was David Borland's staccato — " an' I thought I'd drop in an' see if you was all safe home. Don't take off your things, Made- line ; we're not a-visitin'," he said to the girl beside him. For she was bidding fair to settle for a pro- tracted stay. " Yes, we're safe home, thank you," answered Mrs. Simmons, " and it's lovely to get back. I'm a poor traveller." " 'Tain't safe to travel much these days," rejoined Mr. Borland after he had greeted Harvey; whose face, as well as a fugitive word or two, hushed any queries that were on David's lips — " so many acci- dents, I always feel skeery on the trains — must be hard to run Divine predestination on schedule, since they got them heavy engines on the light rails. I often think the undertakers is part of the railroad trust," he concluded, smiling sententiously into all the faces at once. Some further conversation ensued, prompted in a general way by the excursion to the city, and deal- %he DEWS of SORROIV 129 ing finally with the question of eminent city doctors- and their merits. " I only went onct to a big city man like that," David said reminiscently, " and it was about my eyes, too. You see, I rammed my shaving-brush into one, one evenin' when I was shavin' in the dusk. Well, I was awful skeery about what he'd charge — didn't have much of the almighty needful in them days. An' I heard he charged the Governor-Gen- eral's missus five thousand dollars, a week or two be- fore, for takin' a speck o' dust out of her eye — castin' out the mote, as the Scriptur says ; I'd leave a sand- pit stay there before I'd shell out like that. Well,, anyhow, I was skeered, 'cause I knew me an' the no- bility had the same kind of eyes. So I didn't dress very good — wore some old togs. An' after he got through — ^just about four minutes an' a half — I asked him what was the damage. Says he : ' What do you do, Mr. Borland?' ' I work in a foundry,' says I, ' Oh, well,' says he, ' call it five dollars.' So I yankecJ out a roll o' bills about the size of a hind quarter o' beef, an' I burrows till I gets a five — then I gives it to him. ' How do you come to have a wad like that, Mr. Borland,' says he, ' if you work in a foundry ? ' ' I own the foundry,' says I, restorin' the wad to where most Scotchmen carries their flask. • Oh ! ' says he, lookin' hard at the little fiver. ' Oh, I'll give you another toadskin,' says I, ' jest to show there's- no hard feelin'.' ' Keep it,' says he — an' he was- laughin' like a guinea hen, • keep it, an' buy a marble monument for yourself, and put at the bottom of it 130 THE WEB OF TIME what a smart man you was,' " and David slapped his knee afresh in gleeful triumph. For the others, too, there was laughter and to spare ; which very purpose David had designed his autobiography to accomplish. A moment later Madeline and her father were at the door, the little circle, laughing still, around him as they stepped without. " You're a terrible one for shakin' hands, girl," David said to his daughter as they stood a moment on the step. " That's a habit I never got much into rae." For Madeline's farewell had had much of meaning in it, the sweet face suffused with sympathy as she shook hands with all — the mother first, then Jessie, then Harvey — and the low voice had dropped a word or two that told the depth and sincerity of her feeling. When she said good-bye to Harvey, the pressure of her hand, Ught and fluttering as it was, found a response so warm and clinging that a quick flush overflowed her face, before which the other's fell, so striking was its beauty, so full of deep significance the message of the strong and soulful eyes. Her father's child was she, and the fascination of sorrow had early touched her heart. The door was almost closed when David turned to call back lustily : " Oh, Harvey — Harvey, Mr. Nickle wants to see you ; Geordie Nickle, you know ; an' if you come round to my office to-morrow about half-past four, I think you'll find him there. He's got a great scheme on ; he's the whitest man I ever run acrost, I think — for a Scotchman." XIV THE WEIGHING OF THE ANCHOR SURELY the years love best to ply their indus- try among the young. For two or three of them, each taking up the work where its pred- ecessor laid it down, can transform a youth or maiden to an extent that is really wonderful. Per- haps this is because the young lend themselves so cheerfully to everything that makes for change, and resent all tarrying on life's alluring way. They love to make swift calls at life's chief ports, so few in num- ber though they be ; they are impatient to try the open sea beyond, unrecking that the last harbour and the long, long anchorage are all too near at hand. The difTerence that these silent craftsmen can soon make upon a face might have been easily visible to any observant eye, had such an eye been cast one evening upon the still unbroken circle of the Sim- mons home. The mother had changed but little; nor had anything changed to her — unless it were that all upon which her eyes had closed shone brighter in the light that memory imparts. Still holding her secret hidden deep, her fondness for those left to her seemed but to deepen as the hope of her husband's return grew more and more faint within. If the hidden tragedy delved an ever deeper wound 131 132 THE WEB OF TIME under cover of her silence, it had no outward token but an intenser love towards those from whom she had so long concealed it. But Jessie and Harvey had turned the time to good account. For the former had almost left behind the stage of early childhood, merging now into the roundness and plumpness — and consciousness, too — that betoken a girl's approach to the sunlit hills of womanhood. Yet Harvey had changed the most of all. The stalwart form had taken to itself the proportions of opening manhood — height, firmness, breadth of shoulders, length of limb, all made a strong and comely frame. The poise of the head indicated reso- lute activity, and the evening light that now played upon his face revealed a countenance in which sin- cerity, seriousness, hopefulness, might be traced by a practiced eye. Humour, too, was there — that twin sister unto seriousness — maintaining its own place in the large eyes that had room for other things beside ; and the glance that was sometimes turned upon the autumn scene without, but oftener upon his mother and his sister, was eloquent of much that lay behind. The tuition of his soul had left its mark upon his face. Early begun and relentlessly continued, it had taught him much of life, of life's ways and life's severities — not a little, too, of the tactics she demands from all who would prevail in the stern battle for which he had been compelled so early to enlist. New duties, unusual responsibilities, severe mental exercise such as serious study gives, stern self-denial, constant WEIGHING of The ANCHOR 133 thought of others, these had conspired to provide the manly seriousness upon the still almost boyish face. Autumn reigned without, as has been already said, and in robes of gold. Glowing and glorious, the oak and the elm and the maple wrapt in bridal gar- ments, glad nature went onward to her death, mute preceptress to pagan Christians as to how they too should die. A graver autumn reigned within. For the little circle was to be broken on the morrow, and the hum- ble home was passing through one of earth's truest crises, giving up an inmate to the storm and peril of the great world without. The world itself may smile, stretching forth indifferent hands to receive the outgoing life; what cares the ocean for another swimmer as he joins the strugghng throng ? — but was the surrender ever made without tumult and secret tears ? " Look, look," Jessie cried, as she turned her face a moment from the pane ; " there goes Cecil and Madeline — I guess he's taking her for a farewell drive." In spite of himself, Harvey joined his sister at the window. '• Is Madeline with him ? " he said, throwing quite an unusual note of carelessness into the words. " Yes, that's the second time they've driven past here — at least, I'm almost sure it was them before," Jessie averred, straining her neck a little to follow the disappearing carriage. " I wonder what he'll do with his horse when he's i34 THE WEB OF TIME away," Harvey pursued, bent on an irrelevant theme, and thankful that the light was dim. The inward riot that disturbed him would have been much al- layed could he have known that the parade before their door was of Madehne's own contriving; pre- suming, that is, that he understood the combination of the woman-heart. " Doesn't it seem strange, Harvey, that you and Cecil should start for the University the very same day ? — he's going on the same train in the morning, isn't he?" enquired Jessie, her eyes abandoning their pursuit. " I think so," her brother answered carelessly. " Jessie," he digressed decisively, " I want you to promise me something. I'm going to write you a letter every week, and I want you to take and read it — or nearly all of it ; sometimes there'll be bits you can't — to Mr. Nickle. If it weren't for him — for him and Mr. Borland — I wouldn't be going to college at all, as you know." " That I will," the sister answered heartily ; " I think he's just the dearest old man. And I can manage it easily enough — there's hardly a day but he comes into the store to buy something. He and Mr. Borland always seem to be wanting something, something that we've always got, too. They must eat an awful lot of sweet stuff between them. And every time Mr. Nickle comes in, he says : ' Weel, hoo's the scholarship laddie the day ? ' — he's awfully proud about you getting the scholarship, Harvey." Her brother's face brightened. " Well there's one WEIGHING of The ANCHOR 135 thing I'm mighty glad of," he said, " and that is that I won't be very much of a charge for my first year at any rate — that hundred and fifty will help to see me through." « But you mustn't stint yourself, Harvey," the mother broke in with tender tone. " You must get a nice comfortable place to board in, and have a good warm bed — and lots of good nourishing things to eat. I know I'll often be waking up in the night and wondering if you're cold. Do you know, dear," she went on, her voice trembling a little, " we've never been a night separated since you were born — it's going to be hard for a while, I'm afraid," she said a little brokenly as the youth nestled down beside her, his head resting on her lap as in the old childhood days. " It'll be harder for me, mother," he said ; " but I think I'd be almost happy if you were well again. It nearly breaks my heart to think of leaving you here in — in the dark," he concluded, his arm stealing fondly about her neck. The woman bended low to his caress. " Don't, Harvey — you mustn't. It's not the dark — it's never . dark where Christ abides," she broke out with a fer- vour that almost startled him, for it was but rarely that she spoke like this. " I've got so much to thank God for, my son — it's always light where love makes it light. And I'm so proud and happy that you're going to get the chance you need, Harvey. Oh, but He's been good to my little ones," she cried, her voice thrilling with the note of real grati- 136 THE WEB OF TIME tude that is heard, strangely enough, only from those who sit among the shadows. The noblest notes of praise have come from lips of pain. " You'll write to me, won't you, mother ? — you'll tell Jessie what to say, and it'll be almost like getting it from yourself." " Oh, yes," she answered quickly, " and I'll always ■be able to sign my name. And if you're ever in trouble, Harvey — or if you're ever tempted — and that's sure to come in a great city like the one you're going to — remember your mother's praying for you. I'm laid aside, I know, my son, and there's not much now that I can do ; but there's one thing left to me — I have the throne of grace ; and if any one knows its comfort, surely it's your mother." " Mother, won't you tell me something ? " he inter- rupted decisively. " What is it, my son ? " " Isn't there something else, mother — some other sorrow, I mean — that I don't know about ? I've had a feeling for a long time that there was — was some- thing else." The mother was long in answering. But she raised her hand and drew his arm tighter about her neck, the protecting love very sweet. " There's nothing but what I get grace to bear — don't ask me more, my child," and as she spoke the bending toy felt the hot tears begin to fall. They soon came thick and fast, for the mother's heart was melting ■within her, and as he felt the sacred drops upon his head the son's soul rose up in purpose and devotion, WEIGHING of rhe ANCHOR 1^7 making its solemn vow that he would be worthy of a love so great. The evening wore away, every hour precious to them all. Very simple and homely were the counsels that fell from the mother's lips ; that he must be care- ful about making new acquaintances, especially such as would hail him on the street, and speak his name, and cite his friends in witness — they doubtless all knew about the scholarship money; that he must study with his Ught behind him — not in front — and never later than half-past ten ; that a couple of pairs of stockings, at the very least, must always be on hand in case of wet feet and resultant colds ; that if cold in bed, he must ask for extra covering — he simply must not be afraid to ask for what he wants ; that he must be very careful on those crowded city streets, especially of the electric cars ; that in case of illness he must telegraph immediately, re- gardless of expense ; that he must not forsake the Bible-class on Sabbath afternoons, but find one there and enroll himself at once ; that he must accept gladly if fine people asked him to their homes, caring nothing though other students may be better dressed than he — they didn't get the scholarship, anyhow. And Harvey promised all. More than likely that he took the admonitions hghtly ; he was not so much concerned with them as with the conflicting emotions that possessed him, eager joy that the battle was about to begin in earnest and yearning sympathy for the devoted hearts he was to leave behind. If 138 rHE WEB OF TIME all to which he was going forth loomed before him as a battle, it was as a delicious battle, whose process should be perpetual pleasure, its issue decisive victory. ^ No thought of its real peril, its subtle conflict, its despairing hours, marred the prospect of the beckoning years ; he knew not how he would yet revise his estimates as to who are our real ene- mies, nor did he dream that his fiercest foes would be found within — and that the battle of inward living is, after all has been said and done, the battle of life itself. " And now, my children," the mother said at last when the evening was far spent, " we'd better go to our rest, for we'll need to be up early in the morn- ing. But I want to have a little prayer with you, be- fore we part — we'll just kneel here ; " and she sank beside her chair, an arm about either child. It was quite dark, for none seemed to wish a light — they knew it could add nothing to the mother's vision — and in simple, earnest words, sometimes choking with the emotion she could not control, she com- mitted her treasures to her God. " Oh, keep his youthful feet, our Father," the trustful voice im- plored, " and never let them wander from the path ; help him in his studies and strengthen him in his soul — and keep us here at home in Thy blessed care, and let us all meet again. For Jesus' sake." The light — that light that they enjoy who need no candle's glow — was about them as they arose, the mother's hand in Jessie's as they turned away, Harvey sought the shelter of the room that was so WEIGHING of The ANCHOR 139 soon to be his no more. He closed the door as he entered, falling on his knees beside the bed to echo his mother's prayer. Then he hurriedly undressed and was soon fast asleep. It was hours after, the silent night hurrying towards the dawn, when he suddenly awoke, somewhat startled. For he felt a hand upon his brow, and the clothes were tight about him. Looking up, he dimly discerned his mother's face; white-robed, she was bending over him. " Don't be frightened, Harvey ; go to sleep, dear — it's only me. I wanted to tuck you in once more, like I used to do when you were little. Oh, Harvey," and a half cry escaped her as she bent down and put her arms about him, " I don't know how to give you up — ^but go to sleep, dear, go to sleep." But Harvey was now wide awake, clinging to his mother. " Don't go," he said, " stay with me a httle." There was a long silence. At last Harvey spoke : " What are you thinking about, mother ? " The woman drew her shawl tighter about her shoulders and settled herself on the bed. " I think I'll tell you, Harvey," she. said in a whisper ; " it seems easier to tell you in the dark — and when Jessie's asleep." " What is it ? " he asked eagerly. " Is it anything that's hard to say ? " " Yes, my son, it's hard to tell — but I think I ought to tell it. Are you wide awake, Harvey ? " " Yes, mother. What is it ? " he asked again. 140 THE WEB OF TIME " Do you remember, Harvey, the night you went to join the church ? — and how I walked with you as far as the door ? — and we went into the cemetery together ? Don't you remember, Harvey ? " " Yes, mother, of course I do. But why ? " " Can you remember how, when we were standing at the baby's grave, you asked me why your father never joined the church, and I said he didn't think he was good enough — and you asked me why, and I said I'd tell you some time. Do you remember that, my son ?" " Yes," Harvey answered slowly, his mind working fast. " Well, I'm going to tell you now. Your father was so good to me, Harvey — at least, nearly always. But he used " — she buried her face in the pillow — " this is what I'm going to tell you, Harvey ; he used — he used to drink sometimes." The form beside her lay still as death. " Some- times he used to — we were so happy, till that began. And oh, Harvey, nobody can ever know what a dreadful struggle it is, till they've seen it as I saw it. For he loved you, my son, he loved you and Jessie like his own soul — and it was the company he got into — and some discouragements — and things hke that, that were to blame for it. But the struggle was ter- rible, Harvey — like fighting with one of those dread- ful snakes that winds itself about you. And I could do so little to help him." She could feel his breath coming fast, his lips al- most against her cheek. A little tremor preceded WEIGHING of The ANCHOR 141 his question. " Was he — was father all right when he died?" It was well he could not see the tell-tale lips, nor catch the quiver that wrung the suffering face. " Oh, Harvey," she began tremblingly, " I asked you never to speak of that — it hurts me so. And I wanted to tell you," she hurried evasively on, '■ that his own father had the same failing before him. And I'm so frightened, Harvey, so frightened — about you — you know it often descends from father to son. And when I think of you all alone in the big city — oh, Harvey, I want you to " and the rest was smothered in sobs as the sorrow-riven bosom rose and fell, the tears streaming from the sightless eyes. Both of Harvey's arms were tight about his mother, his broken voice whispering his vow with passionate affection. " Never, mother, never ; I promise," he murmured. " Oh, my mother, you've had so much of sorrow — if you want me, I won't go away at all. I'll stay and take care of you and Jessie, if you want me, mother," the strong arms clinging tighter. But she hushed the suggestion with a word, gently withdrawing her- self and kissing him good-night again. " Go to sleep, my son," she said gently ; " you've got a long journey before you," and he knew the sig- nificance of the words ; " God has given me far more of joy than sorrow," as she felt her way to the door and onwards to her room. Long he lay awake, engulfed in a very tumult of thoughts and memories; finally he fell into a rest- 142 THE WEB OF TIME less slumber. The day was dimly breaking when he suddenly awoke, thinking he heard a noise. Steal- ing from his bed, he crept across the room, peering towards his mother's. He could see her in the un- certain light ; she was bending over his trunk, the object of her solicitude for many a previous day, and her hands were evidently groping for something within. Soon they reappeared, and he could see a Bible in them, new and beautiful. She had a pen in one hand, and for a moment she felt about the ad- joining table for the ink-well she knew was there. Finding it, the poor ill-guided pen sought the fly-leaf of the book she held ; it took long, but it was love's labour and was done with care. She waited till the ink was dry, then closed the volume, kissed it with longing tenderness and replaced it in the trunk. Ris- ing, she made her way to a chest of drawers, opened one or two before her hands fell on what she wanted, and then produced a little box carefully wrapped in oilcloth. Some little word she scrawled upon it, and the unpretentious parcel — only some simple luxury that a mother's love had provided against sterner days — was deposited at the very bottom of the trunk. She closed the lid and kneeled reverently beside the now waiting token of departure ; Harvey crept back to his bed again, his sight well-nigh as dim as hers. When the little family gathered the next morning at the breakfast-table the mother's face bore a look of deep content, as if some burden had been taken from her mind. And the valiant display of cheerful- ness on the part of all three was quite successful, each IVEIGHING of The ANCHOR 143 marvelling at the sprightliness of the other two. They were just in the middle of the meal when the tinkling bell called Jessie to the shop. A moment later she returned, bearing a resplendent cluster of roses. " They're for you, Harvey," she said, " and I think it's a great shame — boys never care anything for flowers. They ought to be for me." But she did not hand them to her brother, nor did he seem to expect them. For she walked straight to the mother's chair, holding them before her ; and the patient face sank among them, drinking deep of their rich fra- grance. " Who sent them, Jessie ? " her brother asked with vigorous brevity. " I don't know — the boy wouldn't tell. He said ' a party ' gave him ten cents to hand them in — and the party didn't want the name given. I hate that ' party ' business ; you can't tell whether it's a man or a woman. I guess it wasn't a man, though — look at the ribbon.'' One would have said that Harvey thought so too, judging by the light on his face. " I'll take the ribbon," he said, "and just one rose — you and mother can have the rest." " Then you're sure it wasn't a man sent them ? " returned the knowing Jessie. " No, I'm not — what makes you say that ? " "Well — ^what are you taking the ribbon for, if you're not ? " "Because — because, well, because it's useful, for one thing ; I can tie my lunch up in it, or a book or 144 THE WEB OF TIME two — anything like that," Harvey replied, smiling at his adroit defense. " Who's this — why, if it's not Mr. Nickle and Mr. Borland ! " rising as he spoke to greet the most welcome guests. " Ye'll hae to pardon us, Mrs. Simmons," Geordie's cheery voice was the first to say ; " David here brocht me richt through the shop, richt ben the hoose, wi'oot rappin'. We wantit to say good-bye till the laddie — only he's mair a man nor a laddie noo." " It was Mr. Nickle that dragged me in by the scuff o' the neck," interjected Mr. Borland, nodding to all the company at once. " When he smelt the porridge, you couldn't see him for dust. Hello ! where'd you get the roses ? — look awful like the vintage out at our place. Don't rise, Mrs. Simmons ; we just dropped in to tell Harvey tra-la-la." " I'm glad to find ye' re at the porridge, laddie," Geordie said genially, as he took the chair Jessie had handed him. " The porridge laddies aye leads their class at the college, they tell me — dinna let them gie ye ony o' yon ither trash they're fixin' up these days to dae instead o' porridge ; there's naethin' like the guid auld oatmeal." " You Scotch folks give me a pain," broke in David ; " how any one can eat the stuff, I can't make out. The fact is, I don't believe Scotchmen like it themselves — only it's cheap, an' it fills up the hired men so they can't eat anythin' else. Unless it's be- cause their ancestors ate it,'' he continued thought- fully. " I'll bet my boots there's Scotchmen in Glenallen that's eatin' porridge to-day jest because 1VEIGHING of The ANCHOR 145 their grandfathers ate it ; an' they'll put it down if it kills 'em — an' their kids'U eat it too or else they'll know the reason why. It'd be just the same if it was bran — they'd have to walk the plank. But there ain't no horse blood in me, thank goodness," he concluded fervently. " Jealousy's an awfu' sair disease," retorted Geordie, smiling pitifully at the alien ; " but we canna a' be Scotch." " I'm so glad you came in," Harvey began, turn- ing to his visitors as the laughter subsided ; " we were just speaking of your kindness last night — and I'm glad to have a chance to thank you again just before I go away." " Stap it," Geordie interrupted sternly. " That's plenty o' that kind o' thing — I'll gang oot if there's ony mair, mind ye," he declared vehemently, for there are few forms of pain more intolerable to natures such as his. " You'll have to be careful, Harvey," cautioned Mr. Borland ; " he's one o' the kind that don't want their left hand to know the stunt their right hand's doin'. Very few Scotchmen likes the left hand to get next to what the right one's at — it wouldn't know much, poor thing, in the most o' cases," he added pitifully — " but our friend here's a rare kind of a Scotchman. By George, them's terrible fine roses," he digressed, taking a whiff of equine pro- portions. " I canna gang till the station wi' ye, Harvey — David's gaein'," said Geordie Nickle, taking his staff 146 THE WEB OF TIME and rising to his feet, " but guid-bye, my laddie, an' the blessin' o' yir mither's God be wi' ye," and the kindly hand was unconsciously laid on Harvey's head. " We're expectin' graun' things o' ye at the college. I mind fine the mornin' I left my faither's hoose in Hawick ; he aye lifted the tune himsel' at family worship — an' that mornin', I mind the way his voice was quaverin'. These was the words : ' Oh, spread Thy coverin' wings around Till all our wanderin's cease,' an' I dinna ken onythin' better for yirsel' the day. Guid-bye, my laddie — an' ' a stoot heart tae a steep brae,' ye ken." As Harvey returned from seeing the old man to the door, Jessie beckoned him aside into his room, not yet set to rights after his fitful slumbers of the night before. " Harvey," she began in very serious tones, " I only want to say a word ; it's to give a promise — and to get one. And I want you to promise me faithfully, Harvey." " What is it, sister ? " he asked, his gaze resting fondly on the girlish face. " Well, it's just this. You see this room ? " Harvey nodded. " And this bed ? — you know I'm going to have your room after you're gone. Well, it's about mother — I'm going to pray for her here every night ; right here," touching the side of the bed as she spoke. " Dr. Fletcher said it would be sure to help — I mean WEIGHING offhe ANCHOR 147 for her sight to come back again ; I asked him once at Sunday-school." " The doctor in the city told me that, too," broke in her brother. " Dr. Fletcher knows better'n him," the other de- clared firmly — " he said God made lots o' people see because other people prayed. An' I want you to always ask the same thing — at the same time, Harvey, at the very same time ; an' when I'm asking here, I'll know you're doing the very same wherever you are. You'll promise me, won't you, Harvey ? " Harvey's heart was full ; and the unsteadiness that marked his words was not from any lack of sympathy and purpose. " What time, Jessie ? " he asked in a moment. " Would eight o'clock be a good time ? " " I don't think so," the girl said after pondering a moment. " You see, I'll often be in bed at eight — I'm going to work very hard, you know. I think half-past seven would be better." Thus was the solemn tryst arranged, and Harvey bade his sister good-bye before he passed without for the last farewell to his mother. No tears, no outward sign, marked the emotion of the soulful moment, and soon Harvey and Mr. Bor- land had started for the station. Once, and only once, did the youth look behind ; and he saw his mother's tender face, unseeing, but still turned in wistful yearn- ing towards her departing son. Jessie was cling- ing to her skirts, her face hidden — but the mother's was bright in its strength and hopefulness, and the image sank into his heart, never to be effaced. 148 THE WEB OF TIME It was evident, from the long silence he preserved, that David was reflecting upon things in general. Harvey was coming to understand him pretty well, and knew that the product would be forthcoming shortly. Nor was he disappointed. " They're great on givin' advice, ain't they ? " " Who ? " enquired Harvey, smiling in advance. " Them Scotch folks — they'd like awful well to be omnipotent, wouldn't they? It's pretty nigh the only thing they think they lack. It's great fun to hear a Scotchman layin' down the law ; they don't see no use in havin' ten commandments unless they're kept — by other people." " You're not referring to Mr. Nickle, are you ? " ventured Harvey. " Oh, no ! bless my soul. Geordie's all wool and sixteen ounces to the pound," responded Mr. Borland, prodigal of his metaphors. " That's what set me thinkin' of Scotchmen in general, 'cause they're so different from Geordie. That was an elegant pro- gramme he fired at you there; what's this it was, again ? — oh, yes, ' when it's stiff climbin', keep your powder dry' — somethin' hke that, wasn't it?" " He gave it the Scotch," answered Harvey, " ' a stoot heart tae a steep brae,' I think it was." " That's what I said," affirmed David, " an' it's a bully motto. It's mine," he avowed, turning and looking gravely at Harvey. . " I heard a fellow ad- vertisin' a nigger show onct ; he was on top of the tavern sheds, with a megaphone. ' If you can't laugh, don't come,' he was bellerin' — an' I thought it WEIGHING of The ANCHOR 149 was elegant advice. Kind o' stuck to me all these years. You take it yourself, boy, an' act on it — you'll have lots of hard ploughin' afore you're through." " It suits me all right," Harvey responded cheer- fully ; " they say laughter's good medicine." " The very best — every one should have a hogshead a day ; it washes out your insides, you see. If a man can't laugh loud, he ain't a good man, I say. I was talkin' about that to Robert McCaig the other day — you know him, he's the elder — terrible nice man he was, too, till he got religion — an' then he took an awful chill. By and by he got to be an elder — an' then he froze right to the bottom. Well, he's agin laughin' — says it's frivolous, you see. I told him the solemnest people was the frivolousest — used the rich fool for an illustration ; he was terrible solemn, but he was a drivellin' ejut inside, to my way o' thinkin'. Robert up an' told me we don't read of the Apostle Paul ever laughin' — thought he had me. What do you think I gave him back ? " " Couldn't imagine," said Harvey, quite truthfully. " ' That don't prove nothin',' says I ; 'we don't ever read of him takin' a bath, or gettin' his hair cut,' says I, ' but it was him that said godliness was next to cleanliness.' An' Robert got mad about it — that's how I knew I had him beat. He said I was irrever- ent — but that ain't no argyment, is it ? " appealed David seriously. His companion's opinion, doubtless favourable, was hindered of expression by the snort of the approach- ing locomotive, signal for a sprint that was rather I50 THE WEB OF TIME vigorous for further exchange of views. There was barely time for the purchase ofa ticket and the check- ing of the trunk, the conductor already standing with one eye on the baggage truck and the other on the grimy figure that protruded from the engine window. " I ain't Scotch," David said hurriedly, as he and Harvey stood together at the rear platform of the train, " but I had a father, for all that, just the same as all them Sandys seem to have. An' when I was pikin' out to find the trail — it's a long time ago — the old man stood just like I'm standin' here with you, an' he says to me : ' David,' he says, ' trust in God an' do your duty.' An' I believe them's the best runnin' orders on the road. The old Sandys can't beat that much, can they ? " Harvey had no chance to make reply ; for almost in the same breath David went on, thrusting an en- velope into his hand as he spoke : " Here's a letter of interduction I want you to present to a fellow in the city — he's the teller in the Merchants' Bank, an' you might find him helpful," David concluded with a hemispheric grin ; " hope you'll endorse my sugges- tion," he added, the grin becoming spherical. Harvey tried to protest as best he could, protest and gratitude mingling ; but the train was already moving out and his communications were chiefly in tableau. " That's all right," David roared above the din ; " good-bye, my boy. Remember Geordie Nickle's motto — an' don't blow out the gas." XV A PARENTAL PARLEY " ■ "% ETTER eat all you can, Madeline ; you 1-"^ can't never tell when you're goin' to have M ^ your last square meal these days," and David deposited another substantial helping on his daughter's plate. " Why, father, what's the matter ? What's making you so despondent all of a sudden ? " Madeline asked in semi-seriousness, following her father's advice the while. " You don't understand your father, Madeline — he's always joking, you know," interjected Mrs. Bor- land. " You shouldn't make light of such solemn matters, David," she went on, turning to her hus- band, " hunger's nothing to jest about." " Exactly what I was sayin'," responded David, " an' if things goes on like they promise now, you an' Madeline'll have to take in washin' to support this family — that's the gospel truth." " I don't believe father's in fun," Madeline per- sisted. " Anything go wrong to-day with business matters ? " she enquired, looking across the table at her father. That David was in earnest was obvious enough. " Everythin's wrong, appearin'ly," he said, rolling up 151 152 7HE WEB OF TIME his napkin and returning it to its ring. " The men's goin' to strike — seems to me there's a strike every other alternate day," he went on. " Doin' business nowadays is hke a bird tryin' to hatch out eggs when they're cuttin' down the tree — some o' them darned firebrands from St. Louis have been stirrin' up the men ; a lot o' lazy man-eaters," he concluded vehe- mently. " What do the men want, David ? " his wife asked innocently. Mr. Borland looked at her incredulously. " What do they want — the same old thing they've been wantin' ever since Adam went into the fruit business — less work an' more pay. An' they've appointed a couple o' fellows — a delegation they call it — to wait on the manufacturers privately an' present their claims. There's two different fellows to interview each man — an' they're comin' here to-night. They didn't tell me they was comin' — I jest heard it casual." " To-night ! " echoed Mrs. Borland, " where'll they sit?" " Chairs, I reckon," replied her spouse. " You're so facetious, David. Where'll they sit when they're talking to you? — you know what I mean." " Oh, I reckon we'll have it out in the den — there'll be lots o' growlin', anyhow. I'm not wor- ryin' much about where they sit ; it's the stand they take that troubles me the most," and David indulged a well-earned smile. A PARENfAL PARLEY 153 "You're very gay about it, father," Madeline chimed in, "making merry with the English language." " There's no use o' bein' gay when everythin's all right, daughter ; that's like turnin' on the light when it's twelve o'clock noon. But when things is breakin' up on you, then's your time to cut up dog a little. I'm a terrible believer in sunshine, Madeline — the home-made kind, in particular. I always tell the croakers that every man should have a sunshine plant inside of him — when the outside kind gives out, why, let him start his little mill inside, an' then he's inde- pendent as a pig on ice. An' really, it's kind o' nat- ural — there's nothin' so refreshin' as difficulties, in a certain sense. Leastways, that's the kind of an ani- mal I am — when I'm on the turf, give me a hurdle now an' again to make it interestin'." " Is this a pretty stiff business hurdle you've got to get over now ? " asked Madeline, as she smiled ad- miringly at the home-bred philosophy. " Well, it's stifT enough. Of course, I've done pretty good in the foundry — ain't in it for my health. But it's terrible uncertain ; you know the Scriptur' says the first shall be last — an' it's often that way in busi- ness. We're really not makin' hardly any money these days ; of course, if you tell the men that, they — they close one eye," said David, illustrating the process as he spoke. " Where are you off to, Made- line ? " he asked abruptly, for his daughter had passed into the hall and was putting on her cloak. " I'm going for my lesson — I'm taking wood-carv- 154 TfiE WEB OF TIME ing, you know. Pretty soon I'll be able to do it my- self; and then I'm going to make lots of pretty things and sell them. My class and I are going to support four India famine children," she said proudly. " Bully for you ! You'll do the carvin', an' they'll do the eatin' — I suppose that's the idea." Madeline's merry laughter was still pealing as she closed the door behind her. Mrs. Borland turned a rather fretful face to her husband. " She's taken a class in Sunday-school," she said, lifting her eyebrows to convey some idea of her opinion on the subject. " I did my best to dissuade her, but it was no use." " What in thunder did you want to prevent her for ? " asked David. " Oh, well, you understand. They're a very or- dinary lot, I'm afraid — just the kind of children I've always tried to keep her away from. I never heard one of their names before." " I think she's a reg'lar brick to tackle them," re- turned her husband. " It does me good to see Made- line takin' that turn — nearly all the girls her age is jest about as much use as a sofa-tidy, with their teas an' five-o'clocks an' at-homes, an' all them other dis- eases," David continued scornfully. " It's all right to have girls learned " " Taught, David," corrected his wife. " It's the same thing," retorted Mr. Borland. " I'm too old for you to learn me them new words, mother — it's all right, as I was sayin', to get them learned an' taught how to work in china, an' ivory. A PAREN7AL PARLEY 155 an' wood an' hay an' stubble, as the good book says, but it's far better to see them workin' a little in hu- man bein's. It must be terrible interestin' to try your hand on an immortal soul — them kind o' pro- ductions lasts a while. So don't go an' cool her off, mother — you let her stick to them kids without names if she wants to." " But she tells me, David, she tells me some of them come to Sunday-school without washing their hands or faces." " Tell her to wear buckskin mits," said Mr. Borland gravely. " It's all very well to laugh, David — but they seem to have all sorts of things wrong with them. Made- line told me one day how she couldn't get the atten- tion of the class because one of them kept winding and unwinding a rag on his sore finger for all the class to see it; he said a rat bit it in the night." " Rough on rats'd soon fix them," said David re- flectively ; " I mind out in the barn one time " " But I'm serious, David," remonstrated Mrs. Bor- land ; " and there's something else I hardly like to tell you. But only last Sunday Madeline was telling me — she laughed about it, but I didn't — how she asked one of the boys why he wasn't there the Sun- day before, and he said : ' Please, ma'am, I had the shingles.'" " Shingles ain't catchin'," declared David, as he gasped for breath. " Ha, ha, ha! " he roared, " that's the richest I've heard since the nigger show. Ha, ha ! 156 THE IVEB OF TIME that's a good one — that's the kind of a class I'd hke to have. None o' your silk-sewed kids for me, with their white chiffon an' pink bows ! It seems a sin for them teachers to have so much fun on Sundays, don't it ? " and David extricated his shank from be- neath the table, venting his mirth upon it with many a resounding slap. Mrs. Borland sighed discouragedly. " Well," she said at length, " I suppose there are greater troubles in life than that. In fact, I was just thinking of one of them when you were speaking about where you'd entertain the men when they come to-night." " I'm afeard what I'll say won't entertain them a terrible lot,"' said David, passing his cup for further stimulus as he thought of the ordeal. " Well, about where you'll talk to them, then," amended Mrs. Borland. " My trouble's something the same. Only it's about the servants ; at least it's about Letitia — she's the new one. It seems she be- longs to a kind of an Adventist church, and she told me this morning that the Rev. Mr. Gurkle, the min- ister, is coming up to call on her some afternoon this week. And she asked where would she receive him ! Receive him, mind you, David — she's going to re- ceive ! And she asked me where — asked me where she'd receive him." " Well, that was natural enough. What did you tell her ? " David asked, marvelling at the agitation of which the feminine mind is capable. " Why, I told her where else would she receive him except in the kitchen — you don't suppose my A PARENTAL PARLEY 157 maids are going to entertain their company in the parlour, do you, David ? " Mr. Borland turned his face reflectively towards the wall, gazing at the lurid painting of a three-year- old who had been the pride of last year's fair. Finally he spoke : " Yes, Martha, I reckon she will. I ain't much of an interferer — but there ain't agoin' to to be no minister of the Gospel set down in the kitchen in this house. Black clothes is too easy stained. Besides, it ain't the way I was raised." " But, David, surely you don't " " Yes, I do — that's jest exactly what I do. I know this Gurkle man — dropped into his church one night when some revival meetin's was goin' on. He's a little sawed-off fellow, with a wig — an' his cuffs has teeth like a bucksaw — an' he wears a white tie that looks like a horse's hames. An' he has an Adam's apple like a door-knocker ; it kept goin' an' comin' that night, for there was a terrible lot of feelin' in the meetin'. An' Mr. Gurkle was a cryin' part of the time, an' he's that cross-eyed that the tears run over the bridge of his nose, both different ways. But I believe he's a good little man — an there ain't goin' to be no minister asquintin' round the kitchen in this house. He's goin' to the parlour, mother. The kitchen's all right for courtin' — come in there myself the other night when Mary had her steady company ; there was three chairs — an' two of 'em was empty. That's all right for courtin' — it don't need no con- veniences, nor no light, nor nothin'. Two young folks an' a little human natur's all you need for that. 158 rHE WEB OF TIME But prayin' an' sayin' catechism's hard enough at the best ; so I reckon they'll have to do it in the parlour, mother," and Mr. Borland rose from his chair and moved slowly towards the window, patting his wife playfully on the shoulder as he passed. " By George, here they are," he suddenly ex- claimed ; " I believe that's them comin' now." " Who ? " asked his consort, not with much zest of tone. She was still ruminating on her maid's relig- ious advantages. " It's the delegation — it's them two fellows that's goin' to present the claims of the union. They're turnin' in at the carriage gate, sure's you're livin'." " I'm going up-stairs," announced Mrs. Borland. " I've got to fill out some invitations for an at-home next week — you don't mind my leaving, David ? " " No, no, mother, certainly not. Far better for you not to be around. You see, certain kinds o' labour agitators is always complainin' that the manu- facturers jest lives among beautiful things ; an' you're the principal one in this house, mother ; so I reckon you better slope," and David's hand was very gentle as it went out to touch the frosting locks. Mrs. Bor- land smiled indifferently at the compliment, secretly hugging it the while. Every true woman does like- wise ; the proffered pearl is carelessly glanced at and permitted to fall to the ground — then she swiftly covers it with one nimble foot, and solitary hours yet to come are enriched by communion with its radi- ance. XVI DAVID THE DIPLOMAT HIS wife was hardly half-way up the stairs be- fore David was in the height of perfervid activity. "I'll have an at-home myself," he muttered under his breath ; " I'll have a male at- home," as he rang the bell. " Yes, Mr. Borland," said the maid, parishioner to the Rev. Mr. Gurkle, as she appeared in answer. " Take all them dishes away," he instructed breath- lessly; "all the eatin' stuff, I mean," waving his hand over the suggestive ruins. " Is there any salt her- rin's in the house ? " " Yes, sir, there's always herrin's on Friday ; we keep 'em for Thomas — Thomas is a Roman," she said solemnly, an expression on her face that showed she was thinking of the judgment day. David grinned. " I'll bet the Pope couldn't tell one from a mutton chop to save his life," he said ; " but anyhow, put three herrin's on the table — an' a handful o' soda crackers — an' some prunes," he di- rected quickly, " an' make some green tea — make it strong enough to float a man-o'-war. By George, there's the bell — when everythin's fixed, you come in to the sittin'-room an' tell me supper's ready — sup- per, mind, Letitia." 159 i6o THE WEB OF TIME Then he hurried through the hall to the door^ flinging it wide open. " Why, if this ain't you, Mr. Hunter," he cried de- lightedly, " an' I'm blamed if this ain't Mr. Glady," giving a hand to each. " Come away in. Come on in to the sittin'-room — parlours always makes me think it's Sunday." The men followed in a kind of dream. Mr. Hunt- er's embarrassment took a delirious form, the poor man spending several minutes in a vain attempt to hang his hat on the antlers of a monster head about three feet beyond his utmost reach. Finally it fell into a bowl of goldfish that stood beneath the ant- lers ; great was the agitation among the finny in- mates, but it was nothing as compared to Mr. Hunt- er's. " That's all right," David sang out cheerily ; " reckon they thought it was an eclipse o' the sun," he suggested. " Fling your lid on the floor — I hate style when you have visitors," whereupon Mr. Hunter, fearful of further accident, bended almost to his knees upon the floor and deposited the dripping ar- ticle carefully beneath the sofa. Mr. Glady, more self-possessed, resorted to his pocket-handkerchief, his hat still safe upon his head. Hiding his face in the copious calico, he blew a blast so loud and clear that the little fishes, mistaking it for Gabriel's trump, rose with o^e accord to the surface — and David's favourite collie answered loudly from the kitchen. Compelled by a sense of propriety to reappear from the bandana, Mr. Glady began hurriedly to sit DAJ/'ID The DIPLOMAr i6i down and was about to sink upon the glass top of a case of many-coloured eggs, Madeline's especial pride, when David flew between. " Don't," he cried appealingly, " them's fowl's eggs — an' anyhow, this ain't the clockin' season," whereupon Mr. Glady leaped so far forward again that he collided with a small replica of the Venus de Milo on a mahogany stand, the goddess and the mahogany both oscillating a little with the impact. Mr. Glady stared at the delicate creation, then cast quick glances about the floor. " Did I break off those arms ? " he asked excitedly, pale as death. " Oh, bless you, no — she was winged when she was born," said David, trying to breathe naturally, and imploring the men to be seated, whereat they slowly descended into chairs, as storm-bruised vessels creep into their berths. When both were safely lodged a deep silence fell. David looked expectantly from one to the other and each of the visitors looked appealingly towards his mate. Finally Mr. Glady brought his lips apart with a smack : " We come — we come to see you, Mr. Borland, because you're an employer of labour and " " By George, I'm glad to hear that," David chimed in gleefully ; " that's elegant — there'd be less jawin' between labour an' capital if there was more visitin' back an' furrit like this. I can't tell you how tickled I am to see you both. I don't have many visitors," he went on rather mournfully, " that is, in a social way, A good many drops out to see me with sub- i62 rHE WEB OF TIME scription lists — but they never bring their knittin'," David added with a melancholy smile. " Most o' my evenin's is very lonely. I've seen me wearyin' so bad that I asked the missus to play on the planner — an' one night I shaved three times, to pass the time." " Please, Mr. Borland, supper's on the table," said a small voice at the door. David leaped to his feet. " Come on, Mr. Hunter — come away, Mr. Glady, an' we'll get outside o' somethin'," taking an arm of each and turning to- wards the door. The men faintly protested, pleading a similar previ- ous operation ; but David overbore them with sweeping cordiality. " Let's go through the motions anyhow," he said. " I'm an awful delicate eater myself; the bite I eat, you could put in — in a hogshead," turning an amiable grin on his guests. " Here, you sit there, Mr. Hunter — an' I guess that's your stall, Mr. Glady; I'm sorry my missus can't come — she's workin'. An my daughter's away somewhere workin' at wood — turnin' an honest penny. Will you ask a blessin', Mr. Hunter ? " Mr. Hunter stared pitifully at his host. "Tom there'll ask it," he said, his Hps very dry ; " he used to go to singin'-school in the church." Mr. Glady's head was bowed waiting. " Mr. Hunt- er'll do it himself," he said, without moving a mus- cle ; " his wife's mother's a class-leader in the Meth- odists." Whereupon the piously connected man, escape impossible now, began to emit a low subterranean DAyiD The DIPLOMA f 163 rumble, like the initial utterances of a bottle full of water when it is turned upside down. But it was music to the ear of Mr. Glady, listening in rigid rev- erence. " What church do you go to, Mr. Glady ? " David asked as he poured out a cup of tea, its vigour ob- vious. " Both sugar and cream, eh — Letitia, have we any sugar round the house ? " " There's a barrel an' a half," the servant responded promptly. " Oh, yes, I see — fetch the half; we live awful plain, Mr. Glady. Don't go to no church, did you say ? Terrible mistake — why don't you ? " " Well," his guest responded slowly, " I look at it this way : if a fellow works all week — like us toilers does — he wants to rest on Sunday. That's our rest day." " Terrible mistake," repeated David ; " two spoon- fuls? — it's the workin' men that needs church the most. I was readin' in a book the other day — it was either the ' Home Physician ' or the dictionary, I for- get which — how the Almighty trains the larks in England to scoot up in the air an' sing right over the heads o' the toilers, as you call 'em — the fellows workin' in the fields. You see, the Almighty knows they're the kind o' people needs it most — an' they hear more of it than lords an' ladies does. An' it's them kind o' folks everywhere that needs entertain- ment the most; an' I don't think there's anythin' entertains you like a church, the way it gets at the muscles you don't use every day. If you go to sleep, i64 THE WEB OF TIME that rests you ; an' if you keep awake, it ventilates you — so you gain either way. Oh, yes, every one should go to some church," he concluded seriously. " That's all right for rich manufacturers," broke in Mr. Hunter; " it's easy to enjoy a sermon when you're thinkin' of the five-course dinner you'll get when it's over. But when you've nothin' afore your eyes only a dish of liver — an' mebbe scorched — a sermon don't go quite so good." " That's jest where I'm glad to have a chance to learn you somethin'," David returned with quite un- wonted eagerness. It was evident he had struck a vein. " There ain't near so much difference as you fellows think. Do have some more prunes, Mr. Glady — they don't take up no room at all. As far as eatin' is concerned, anyway, there's terrible little difference. It's a caution how the Almighty's evened things up after all — that's a favourite idea o' mine," he went on quite earnestly, " the way He gives a square deal all round. In the long run, that is ; you jest watch an' see if it ain't so. I ain't terrible relig- ious, an' I ain't related to no class-leaders, but there's a hymn I'm mighty fond of — I'd give it out twicet a Sunday if I was a preacher — it has a line about ' My web o' time He wove ' ; an' I believe," David went on, his face quite aglow, " it's the grandest truth there is. An' I believe He puts in the dark bits where everybody thinks it's all shinin', an' the shinin' bits where everybody thinks it's all dark — an' that's the way it goes, you see." " That's all very fine," rejoined Mr. Glady, a little DA^ID The DIPLOMAT 165 timid about what he wished to say, yet resolved to get it out ; " that's all very fine in theory— but a fel- low only needs to look around to see it makes quite a bit o' difference just the same," he affirmed, casting an appraising glance around the richly furnished room. " Money makes the mare go, all right." " Mebbe it does," said David, a far-off look in his eyes. " I wisht you'd both have some more crackers an' prunes ; mebbe it does, but it don't make her go very far in — in where your feelin's is, I mean. There's far more important things than for the mare to get a gait on. Look at that Standard-oil fellow, out there in Cleveland, that's got more milhons than he has hairs. Well, money made the mare go — but if it'd make the hair stay, I reckon he'd like it better. They say there ain't a hair between his head an' heaven. He could drop a milUon apiece on his friends, an' then have millions left ; but they say he's clean forgot how to chaw — if he takes anythin' stronger'n Nestle's food it acts on him like dynamite, an' then he boosts up the price o' oil — he does it kind of unconscious like — when he's writhin'. I wouldn't board with him for a month if he gave me the run of his vault. But there's the fellow that drives his horses ; he sets down to his breakfast at six o'clock — with his hair every way for Sunday — an' he eats with his knife an' drinks out of his saucer. An' when all his children thinks he's done, he says : - Pass me them cucumber pickles — an' another hunk o' lemon pie,' — so you see things is divided up pretty even after all. I believe luck comes to lots o' men, i66 THE U^EB OF TIME of course — but one of its hands is most gen'rally always as empty as a last year's nest — you can't have everythin'," concluded David, looking first at the men's plates and then down at the crackers and prunes. " But one handful's a heap," suggested Mr. Glady, lifting the keel of a ruined herring to his lips. " 'Tain't as much as you think for," retorted the host. " It don't touch the sore spot at all. If a fel- low's got a good deal of th' almighty needful, as they call it, it may make his surroundin's a little more — a little more ornamentorious," he declared, wrestling with the word. " But there ain't nothin' more to it than that. Take me, if you like ; I've got more than lots o' fellows — or used to have, anyway. But the difference is mostly ornament; a few more things like that there statute — or is it a statue? — I can't never tell them two apart ; that there statute of the hamstrung lady you run up agin in the sittin'-room. But I never eat only one herrin' at a time, an' I jest sleep on one pillow at a time — an' if I have the colic I jest cuss an' howl the same as some weary Willie that a woman gives one of her own pies to, an' he eats all the undercrust. I'm afeard you don't like our humble fare," he digressed in a rather plaintive voice ; " won't you have some more crackers an' prunes between you — they'll never get past the kitchen, anyhow." The horny-handed guests, declining the oft-pressed hospitality, began about this time to look a little un- easily at each other ; visions of their original errand were troubling them some. Finally Mr. Hunter DAl^JD The DIPLOMAT 167 nodded very decidedly to his colleague, whereat Mr. Glady again produced his trusty handkerchief, and, after he had tooted his disquietude into its sympa- thetic bosom, cleared his throat with a sound that suggested the dredging of a harbour, and began : " Me and Mr. Hunter's got a commission, Mr. Borland. We're appointed to — to confer with you about, about the interests of the men, so to speak ; about a raise — that is, about a more fairer distribution of the product of our united industry, as it were," he went on, serenely quoting without acknowledgment from the flowing stanzas of a gifted agitator whose mission had been completed but a week before. " I'm terrible glad you brought that up," David responded enthusiastically. " I hated to mention it myself; but I've been wonderin' lately about a little scheme. D'ye think the men would be willin' to kind of enter into a bargain for gettin' a certain per cent, of the profits an' " " I'd stake my life they would," Mr. Hunter broke in fervidly. " Of course, we haven't no authority on that point, but I'm sure they'd be willin' — a more agreeable lot of men you never seen, Mr. Borland. Don't you think so, Tom ? " he appealed to the ap- proving Glady. The latter was framing an ardent endorsement — but David went on : " An' of course I'd expect them to enjoy the losses along with us too — then we'd all have the same kind o' feelin's all the time, like what becometh breth- ren. An' we're havin' a lot o' the last kind these days. What do you think, Mr. Glady? " i68 THE IVEB OF TIME Mr. Glady was sadly at a loss ; with a kind of mus- cular spasm he seized his cup and held it out towards David ; " I think I'll take another cup o' tea," he said vacantly. " Certainly — an' I want you an' Mr. Hunter to talk that little scheme over with the men. An' you must come back an' tell me what they think — come an' have supper with me again, an' I'll try an' have some- thin' extra, so's we can eat an' drink an' be merry." Nobody had suggested departure ; but already the three men were moving out into the hall. " How's all the men keepin', Mr. Hunter? — the men in our shops, I mean," the genial host enquired. " All pretty good, sir — all except Jim Shiel, an' he's pretty sick. He's been drawin' benefits for a month now." " Oh, that's too bad ; but I'm glad you told me. I'll look around an' see him soon — your folks all well, Mr. Glady?" " Yes, thank you. But don't call me Mr. Glady," said the friendly delegate ; " I'd feel better if you'd just call me plain Tom." " An' my name's Henry," chimed Mr. Hunter, "just plain Henry." " Them's two elegant names," agreed Mr. Borland, " an' I think myself they're best among friends. Speakin' about first names reminds me of an old sol- dier my grandfather used to know in Massachusetts. He fought for Washington, an' he had great yarns to tell. One was that one mornin' he assassinated thirty- seven British fellows before breakfast ; an' Washing- DAVID The DIPLOMAT 169 ton, he came out an' smiled round on the corpses. Of course, he slung old Hollister a word o' praise. ' I done it for you. General,' says old Hollister. ' Don't,' says Washington, ' don't call me General — call me George,' " and David led the chorus with great zest. " Well, we'll be biddin' you good-evenin'," said Mr. Glady, extending his hand. " Jest wait a minute ; I sent word to Thomas to hitch up the chestnuts — he'll drive you down. Here he is now," as the luxurious carriage rolled to the door. Thomas controlled himself with difficulty as he watched Mr. Borland handing his petrified guests into the handsome equipage. Panic takes different forms ; Mr. Glady wrapped the lap-robe carefully about his neck, while Mr. Hunter shook hands sol- emnly with the coachman. " I don't use this rig a terrible lot myself," he heard David saying ; " it's a better fit for the missus. If you feel like drivin' round a bit to get the air, Thomas'll take good care o' you. Good-night, Henry ; good-night, Tom," he sung out as the horses' hoofs rattled down the avenue. Then David went slowly back into the house. He wandered, smiling reminiscently, into the sitting- room. Pausing before the Venus de Milo, he chucked the classic chin. " Well, old lady," he said gravely, " there's more ways of chokin' a dog besides chokin' him with butter." XVII FRIENDSHIP'S MINISTRY IF any man would learn the glory and beauty of a mighty tree we would bid him range the un- troubled forest where God's masterpieces stand in rich profusion. But we are wrong. Not there will he learn how precious and how beautiful are the stately oak and the spreading beech and the whis- pering pine. But let him dwell a summer season through upon some treeless plain or rolling prairie, and there will be formed within him a just and dis- criminating sense of the healing ministry committed to these mediators between earth and sky. And men learn friendship best where friends are not. Not when surrounded by strong and loving hearts, but when alone with thousands of indifferent lives, do we learn how truly rich is he who has a friend. To find then one who really cares is to confront in sud- den joy a familiar face amid the waste of wilder- ness. Alone among indifferent thousands as he alighted from the train, Harvey Simmons turned his steps, the streets somewhat more familiar than before, towards the house where dwelt the only man he knew in all the crowded city. A few enquiries and a half hour's 170 FRIENDSHIP'S MINISTRY 171 vigorous walking brought him within sight of the doctor's house; he was so intent on covering the remaining distance that two approaching figures had almost passed him by when he heard a voice that had something familiar about it. " I'll do the best I can, Wallis," the voice was say- ing, " but I guess we'll have to put the child under chloroform." Harvey turned a quick glance on the speaker. It was none other than the doctor himself. " Dr. Horton — is that you, Dr. Horton ? " the youth asked timidly. The older of the two men turned suddenly on his heel, the keen gray eyes scrutinizing the figure before him. It was but a moment till the same kindly smile that Harvey remembered so well broke over his face. Both hands were on the young man's shoulder in an instant. " You don't mean to say — I know you, mind — but you don't mean to say you're that young fellow from, from Glenallen — that brought his mother to me about her eyes ? " By this time Harvey had possession of one of the hands. " I'm the very same," he said, his face beam- ing with the joy of being recognized. " How is she ? " the doctor asked like a flash. The light faded a little from Harvey's face. " She can't see at all now, sir," he answered soberly. " She's quite blind — only she can tell when it's morn- ing." " Thank the Lord for that," said the other fer- 172 THE IVEB OF TIME vently ; " that's always a gleam of hope." Then fol- lowed a brief exchange of questions and answers. "How does your mother take it?" the doctor asked finally. " Oh, she's lovely — she's just as sweet and patient as she can be ; doesn't think of herself at all." ". Your mother must be a regular brick." •• She's a great Christian," quoth her son. " I think that's what keeps her up." " Shouldn't wonder — it's the best kind of stimulant I know of," the doctor answered in a droll sort of way, turning and smiUng at his companion. " Oh, excuse me, Wallis — what's this the name is ? " he asked Harvey ; " I've just forgotten it." " Simmons, Harvey Simmons,'' the other answered. " Of course ; it's quite familiar now that I hear it. This is Dr. Wallis — and this is Mr. Simmons," he said to the other. " Dr. Wallis was just taking me to see a patient. Did you want to see me about any- thing in particular, Harvey? — you won't mind my calling you that, will you ? " It only needed a glance at the pleased face to see how welcome was the familiarity. " Well, really, I did," Harvey responded frankly. Wherewith, briefly and simply, he told his friend the purpose which had brought him to the city, outlining the academic course he intended to pursue, earnest resolve evident in every word. " And I wanted to get your advice about a boarding-house," he con- cluded ; " you see, I thought you might know some nice quiet place that wouldn't — that wouldn't be too FRIENDSHIP'S MINISTRY 173 dear," he said, flushing a little. " I'm quite a stranger in the city — but I don't want to go to a regular boarding-house if I can help it." " Well, no," the doctor began, knitting his brows. " And I really ought to be able to help you out on that. But I tell you — you come along with us ; then we can talk as we go along. Besides, I'm sure Dr. Wallis here will be able to advise you much better than I could — he knows every old woman in the city." His confrere smiled. " It's mostly the submerged tenth I know," he answered ; " I'm afraid there aren't many of my patients you'd care to board with. Want a place near the college, I suppose ? " " That's not so essential," said Harvey ; " I wouldn't mind a walk of a mile or so at all." " Good idea," said the other ; " most students are pretty cheerful feeders — want a room to yourself?" " I'd prefer it — if it wouldn't add too much to the expense. I've always got to consider that, you know," returned Harvey, smiling bravely towards his new-found friend. " Right again," affirmed the doctor. " Single stalls are the thing ; everybody sleeps better without as- sistance. Sooner have a few children around ? Some fellows study better with kids in the house, and others again go wild if they hear one howl." " I believe I'd get along just as well without them," said Harvey, laughing ; " you see, I'll need to study very hard — and I don't believe they help one much." " It's like studying in a monkeys' cage," asserted Dr. Wallis vigorously; " what I hate about little gaf- 174 THE WEB OF TIME fers in a boarding-house is the way they always want to look at your watch," he enlarged solemnly, " and five times out of six they let it fall. It's fun for them, as the old fable says, but it's death to the frogs. And of course you want to get into a place where they have good cooking ; it's pretty hard to do the higher mathematics on hash and onions — and lots o' students have lost their degrees through bad butter. I've known men whose whole professional life was tainted by the butter they got at college." " But I'm not over particular about what I eat," began Harvey ; " if the place is warm, and if they keep it " " That's all right enough," broke in the other, " but it makes a difference just the same. You've got the same kind of internal mechanism as other fellows, and you've got to reckon with it. Well, we'll see what we can do. I've got a place or two in mind now. I'll tell you about them later — we're almost at my patient's house. I say, you may as well come in — it'll be a little glimpse of life for you ; and we can see more about this matter after we come out." Another hundred yards brought them to their des- tination, a rather squalid looking cottage on a rather squalid looking street. Dr. Wallis knocked at the door, pushing it open and entering without tarrying for response. As Harvey followed with the older doctor a child's wailing fell upon his ears, emerging from the only other room the little house contained. " Just wait here," said Dr. Wallis to the other two ; " the child's in there — I'll be back in a minute." FRIENDSHIP' S MINISTRY 175 He disappeared, Harvey and his friend seating themselves on a rude bench near the door. Both looked around for a minute at the pitiful bareness of the room ; and the eyes of both settled down upon a tawdry doll that lay, forsaken and disconsolate, on the floor. Tawdry enough it was, and duly fractured in the head ; but it redeemed the wretched room with the flavour of humanity, and the solitary sunbeam that had braved the grimy window played about the battered brow, and the vision of some child's wan face rose above the hapless bundle. " He's a jewel," Dr. Horton said in a half whisper, " a jewel of the first water." " Who ? " asked Harvey. For answer, the doctor jerked his head back- ward towards the adjoining room. " He just lives among poor people hke these — they're all idolaters of his. He gives away every cent he makes ; when he does get a rich patient he makes them shell out for the poor ones. I know one of my patients called him in once for an emergency — sprained his big toe get- ting out of the bath-tub — and Wallis charged him fifty dollars for rubbing it. Then he went out and gave the money all away ; the patient forgot all about his toe after Wallis got through with him, I can tell you — the pain went higher up. But I was kind of glad — he was the head of a big plumbing firm, and I always thought Providence used Wallis as the humble instrument to chasten him." " Just come this way please, Dr. Horton," said a voice from the door. 176 THE [VEB OF TIME Sitting alone, Harvey listened to the muffled sounds within. The crying subsided as the odour of chloro- form arose; and the voice of weeping was now the mother's, not the child's. Finally both grew still and a long silence followed. So long did it seem that Harvey had moved towards the door, intending to walk about till the operation should be over, when suddenly both men emerged from the tiny apartment. " It's all over," said Dr. Horton — " and I think it's been successful ; I believe the child will see as well as ever she did." Harvey looked as relieved as though he had known the parties all his life. " I say, Horton," broke in the other doctor, " what'll you charge for this ? Better tell me, and I can tell her," nodding towards the room where the mother was still bended over the beshadowed child. " Oh, that's not worrying me," said the specialist, carefully replacing an instrument in his case as he spoke. " Nobody looks for money from a neigh- bourhood Uke this," indicating the unpromising sur- roundings by a glance around. " I'll get my reward in heaven." " A little on account wouldn't do any harm," re- turned the cheery Wallis. " It's out of the question to ask a man of your station to pike away down here for nothing ; I'm going to try anyhow — just wait here till I come back," wherewith he turned towards the little room, closing the door carefully behind him as he entered. He had hardly got inside before, to Harvey'a FRIENDSHIP'S MINISTRY 177 amazement, Dr. Horton dropped his surgical case and tiptoed swiftly to the door, stooping down to gaze through a keyhole that long years and frequent operations had left more than usually spacious. Watching intently, Harvey could see the face of his friend distorted by an expression partly of mirth and partly of indignation. For Dr. Horton could descry the woman still bending over the little bed, evidently oblivious to the fact that the doctor had returned ; and Dr. Wallis himself was conducting a hurried search through his pockets upper and nether, a gri- mace of satisfaction indicating that he had found at last the material he was in quest of. The spying specialist had barely time to spring back to where Harvey was standing, when the other reappeared, smiling and jubilant. " You never can tell, Horton," he began, holding out a bill ; " you can never tell — there's nothing like trying. Here's a five I collected for you, and it was given gladly enough. It's not very much but ■•' " You go to the devil," broke in the specialist, trying to look angry ; " you think you're infernal smart, don't you ? — but you haven't got all the brains in the world." " You surprise me, Dr. Horton," the other began vigorously, commanding a splendid appearance of injured amazement. " You don't mean to insinuate that I put part of the fee in my pocket, do you? " he demanded, striking a martial attitude, and inwardly very proud of the way he had changed the scent. 178 THE WEB OF TIME " Put that rag back in your left-hand vest pocket where you got it," growled the senior physician as he picked up his hat. " You may work your smart- Alec tricks with the poor natives round here — but you can't come it on me. Take Simmons along and find him some place to lay his head," he added, opening the door and leading the way out- ward to the street. The three walked together for perhaps four or five squares, the two physicians still engaged in the genial hostilities that Dr. Wallis's financial genius had provoked. Suddenly the latter came to a stand- still at the junction of two streets, his eyes roving along a richly shaded avenue to his left. <' I guess you'd better go along home, Horton," he said — " you'll want to post your ledger anyhow, after a profitable day like this. And I think I'll just take your friend here and go on the still hunt for a little. Don't look much like a boarding-house street, does it ? " he added, as he marked the look of surprise on his contemporary's face. " But you never can tell — anyhow, I've got a place along here in my mind's eye, and we may just as well find out now as any other time." " Wish you luck," the older man flung after them as he went his way ; " if you get lodgings at any of those houses you'll have to sleep with the butler." "It does look a little unlikely, I'll admit," Dr. Wallis said to Harvey as they started down the ave- nue ; " but the whole case is quite unusual. This is a woman of over fifty I'm going to see — nobody FRIENDSHIP'S MIN/STRY 179 knows exactly — and she's almost the only rich pa- tient I've got. She lives a strange, half hermit kind of life — goes out almost none — and mighty few peo- ple ever get in. Except her clergyman, of courses- she insists on seeing her minister constantly ; I think he's just a curate, and I've always had the feeling thai he'd consider death great gain — if it came to her. But for a while back she's been talking to me as if she wouldn't mind some one in the house, if they were congenial. It seems one or two attempts have been made to break in at nights — and the butler sleeps like a graven image. Just the other day I suggested she might take in a nurse, a young lady I know, who wants to get a quiet home — ^but I nearly had to run for shelter ; she gave her whole sex the finest decorating I've heard for years. No women for her, thank you." " Is she a little odd ? " Harvey ventured to en- quire. The doctor looked him in the eyes and laughed. " Well, rather ! Odd, I should say she is. But she's just as genuine as she can be. And if you get in there you'll be as comfortable as you'd be in Windsor Castle — quiet and secluded as a monastery, the very place for a student. She's been gathering beautiful things for years, all sorts of curios and rarities — and she's passionately fond of animals, keeps a regular menagerie. And she's great on keeping well ; pre- tends to despise all doctors, and has a few formulas for every occasion. Deep breathing is her specialty — she's a regular fiend on deep breathing. But i8o THE WEB OF TIME you'll see for yourself," the doctor concluded, as they turned in at an open gate and began to mount the stone steps that led to a rather imposing-looking door. Spacious and inviting, if somewhat neglected look- ing, were the old-fashioned grounds about the old- fashioned house. Great spreading trees stood here and there, perhaps thirty or forty in all, some in the sombre dishabille of autumn, some in unchanging robes of green. And two summer-houses, one smaller than the other, nestling in opposite corners, stood deserted and lonely amid the new-fallen carpet of dying leaves. A solitary flower-bed, evidently ill at ease amid the unfettered life about it, waved its few remaining banners, the stamp of death upon them, pensively in the evening breeze. There was an ancient fountain, too, but its lips were parched and dry, and the boyish form that stood in athletic pose above it looked weary of the long and fruitless vigil. Two brazen dogs stood near the gate, sullen and un- caring now, the chill wind awakening memories of many a winter's storm, and foretelling, too, another winter waiting at the door. Dr. Wallis gave the brazen door-knob an un- commonly vigorous tug. " She likes you to ring as if you meant it," he explained to Harvey, the dis- tant product of his violence pealing and repealing through the house. " We'll likely have to wait a little while," the doc- tor remarked ; " she never lets a servant come to the door till she peeks through that upper left-hand win- FRIENDSHIP'S MINISTRY i8i dow herself. Don't look," he added hurriedly ; " she mightn't let us in if she catches any one looking." After a few minutes' further waiting, the harsh grating of the heavy bolt and the violent turning of the reluctant handle were followed by the apparition of a head of iron gray, a pair of absolutely emotion- less eyes fixed upon the visitors in turn. Dr. Wallis nodded, the man barely returning his salutation as he led the way into a large and solemnly furnished apartment on the left. Harvey's principal impression was of the height of the ceiling and the multitude of mirrors that confronted him on every hand ; there seemed to be a goodly assemblage in the room, so often were its two solitary inmates reproduced. Harvey and the doctor were still engaged in a mental inventory of the room, its paintings, bronzes, and what not, all claiming their attention, when the solemn head of iron gray reappeared at the door. " Miss Farringall says she'll see you in her room," said the sphinx, his hps closing with an audible smack ; whereupon the scanty procession was re- formed, following the servant as he led the way up a winding flight of stairs. The man knocked at the door of a small sitting-room, precipitately retiring as soon as he had pushed it partly open. XVIII VOICES OF THE PAST HARVEY followed his companion inside, peering eagerly for what awaited them. The mistress of the house fitted her sur- roundings well. She was reclining in an ample chair, a half-emptied cup of tea on a little table beside her. She was evidently much above medium height, spare and thin, a rusty dressing-gown folded loosely about her. Her hair was quite gray, and quite at liberty, not at all ill-becoming to the large, strong features, and the well-formed head. The brow was broad and high, wrinkled slightly, and furrowed deeply down the centre ; high cheek-bones, a rather mobile mouth, a complexion still unfaded, joined with the bright penetrating eyes to make a decidedly interesting countenance. The face looked capable of tenderness, yet as if tenderness had cost her dear. A pair of gold-rimmed glasses sat shimmering on her brow ; one swift shuffle of the face reduced them to their proper sphere. " Barlow didn't tell me there were two," she said, without looking at the doctor. She was looking be- yond him at the stranger's face. " He's got both arms anyhow, thank heaven," she said, looking at Harvey. " He nearly always brings people with one VOICES of The PAST 183 arm, that want help," she explained to the newcomer, motioning towards a chair. " This is Mr. Simmons, Miss Farringall," the doc- tor began blandly. " I took the liberty " " I know him," she interrupted gently, still survey- ing Harvey. " Didn't you hear me talking to him ? And I know all about the liberty too — I do wish Barlow would count people before he shows them up." " How do you feel to-day, Miss Farringall ? " en- quired the physician. " Better," replied his patient. " I gave Barlow that medicine you sent me — I always feel better after Barlow takes it. Is your friend going to be a doctor ? " she went on in the same breath, inclining her head towards Harvey. " Oh, no, he's going to the university — he's a student," the doctor informed her. " That's quite different — that'll save somebody's life. What did you bring him for ? " she demanded frankly, turning the keen eyes for the first time from Harvey's face and fastening them on the doctor's. " Well, he was with me ; he's a friend of Dr. Hor- ton's and mine — and I thought I'd just bring him in. This is his first day. Besides," and the wily tactician paused a moment, " I wanted to ask your advice." " I'll charge you doctor's rates," said the spinster, restoring her spectacles to their former altitude. " That's cheap enough for anything," retorted the other. " And anyhow, I'll take the usual time to pay it. But seriously. Miss Farringall, I want your i84 THE WEB OF TIME counsel on a matter we're both interested in. You see, I've promised to help Mr. Simmons get a board- ing-house if I can, and I thought you might know of some suitable place — you've lived so long in the city," he explained with an amiable smile. " That's remarkably true," interrupted the lady as she rattled the spoon in the cup beside her — " and I've knocked about so much; lived in the streets, haven't I ? — been a kind of a city missionary^ I sup- pose. What kind of a place does your friend want ? " she enquired with mock seriousness. " Oh, any nice quiet place," answered the intrepid doctor, " with plain honest people that'll make him comfortable. He wants quiet — and refinement — more than anything else, I should say." " If I had my things on, I'd just go out now and enquire around among the neighbours," the woman avowed gravely, trying to control two very rebellious corners about her mouth. " Where do you come from, sir ? " she asked abruptly, turning on the silent Harvey. " From the country. Miss Farringall — from a place called Glenallen." " Parents living ? " " My mother's living, ma'am ; she lives alone — ex- cept, I have a sister." " What's her name ? " " Jessie." " Sensible name. Are you a churchman ? " " Yes, Miss Farringall — at least I hope so." " High ? " {VOICES of The PAST 185 " No," answered Harvey, wondering slightly. " No, just Presbyterian." " Oh ! " said Miss Farringall, " I see. But you can repeat the creed ? " " Oh, yes, we learned that at school." " And if you were Hving in a — in a church family, you'd be willing to come in to prayers when the rector came ? You'd be quite willing, I suppose ? " " I'd love to," said Harvey fervently. " And do you love animals ? " " A good many," Harvey answered cautiously. " Birds ? " " I love birds," said Harvey. " Dogs ? " " Better still," replied the interrogated. " Cats ? " " Sometimes. Of course. Miss Farringall, I won't have a great deal of time to devote to pets. I'll have to study pretty hard ; it's largely through the kindness of a couple of friends that I have the chance to " But his interrogator was already ringing a hand- bell with great vigour. " Barlow," she said, as the butler reappeared, " bring Grey here." " Yes, mum," murmured the mobile servant as he disappeared, returning a minute later with a large specimen of the fehne tribe at his heels. The ani- mal was mewing loudly as it came. Barlow turned and departed as his four-footed companion bolted in at the open door. i86 THE WEB OF TIME Miss Farringall made a slight outward motion with her hands and the cat promptly sprang into her lap. Then he turned to survey the company, wasting only the briefest glance on the doctor's familiar face, but subjecting Harvey to the scrutiny that his strangerhood seemed to render necessary. " You may go, Grey," the woman said in an al- most inaudible voice, whereupon the cat slowly de- scended, standing still a moment to continue its ex- amination of the stranger. Gradually it drew closer, rubbing its sides at length against Harvey's ankles, still scrutinizing the face above. Harvey smiled, whereat the creature looked more intently than be- fore. " Don't speak," whispered Miss Farringall, " I be- lieve he's going to " the prediction lost in a little gasp of excitement as the feline suddenly bounded into Harvey's lap, thence to his shoulder, its tail aloft like a banner, while a gentle purring issued forth as it began an affectionate circuit of Harvey's head. Miss Farringall's face was radiant, her spectacles now at high mast as a result of much facial contortion. " You can stay here if you like, Mr. Simmons, till — till I find a place for you," she said, her eyes still fixed in admiration on the cat. Dr. Wallis said nothing, inwardly blessing the whole feline race. " You're very kind, ma'am," Harvey began, his face crimson with an excitement he could hardly ex- plain. " And I'll be good to Grey," he added desperately, not knowing what else to say. l^OICES of The PAST 187 "You mustn't feed him, mind," the other broke out intensely — " not a mouthful of anything. And no thanks, if you please ; I never knew Grey to make a mistake. Besides, there's something about you that reminds me of — of somebody else," she con- cluded, her tone softened into unwonted gentleness. " Was he a relative, Miss Farringall ? " the doctor ventured, anxious that the reference should be ap- propriately received. " Who said he was a he at all ? " retorted his friend, turning suddenly upon him as she groped aloft for the departed spectacles. " You can have the room over the dining-room," she went on, addressing Harvey again ; " it opens on the lawn, and you must leave your window open summer and winter — wherever you may be in winter," she corrected ; " and breathe deep — breathe deep of the fresh air of heaven. Are you a deep breather, Mr. Simmons ? " she enquired anxiously. " I've never thought much about it," said Harvey frankly ; " but I'll try and learn, Miss Farringall," quenching a smile as he looked up at the earnest face. " It's life," she assured him earnestly, " pure life." " Miss Farringall's right," the doctor added gravely. ■" There's nothing more connected with life than breathing. I've often noticed that in my practice." But the irreverent reflection was wasted on the zealous heart of Miss Farringall. " Where are you going to stay to-night ? " she asked ; " it'll soon be dark." i88 THE WEB OF TIME Harvey hesitated. " I thought I'd just take him home with me," the doctor volunteered ; " then he could come here to-morrow." " Where's your trunk ? " pursued the hostess. " It's at the station," said Harvey ; " I've got the check." " Barlow'll attend to having it sent up ; there's really no reason for him going away from here to- night. I'm willing — you and Grey are credentials enough for me," she added, her face relaxing into a more pronounced smile than Harvey had seen there before. Dr. Wallis was already moving towards the door. The grave Barlow had it open in advance. " You'll let us know in good time when you get another place for my friend, Miss Farringall — that is, when he has to leave." " Oh, yes, I'll attend to that," she assured him. " Don't let Grey get out. Barlow — it's too cold for him. Keep your mouth closed. Barlow — breathe through your nose," for the sudden shock of the in- telligence that the doctor's words implied, the idea slowly filtering in upon him that a stranger was to pass the night beneath that sacred roof, had thrown poor Barlow's mouth as wide open as his ears. " Miss FarringaU'll let you know when you've got to leave, Mr. Simmons," said Dr. Wallis as he glanced furtively at Harvey, winking violently the while. " You'll feel more comfortable, I'm sure," he resumed, his features quite composed again as he turned towards the mistress of the house, " to have INDICES of The PAST 189 a man around at nights — there have been two cases of house-breaking on this street lately." " I know that," she answered with bated breath ; " I'm often afraid at nights. I thought some bne was breaking in last night ; I was so sure of it that I turned on the light and began reading the prayer for those in peril on the sea — but it was just Barlow snoring. You snore hke Niagara Falls, don't you, Barlow ? " " Yes, mum," replied the accomplished, without moving a muscle. With a last cheery word to Harvey, and promising to return soon. Dr. Wallis withdrew, leaving the new-found relation to work itself out as best it could. Harvey waited a few minutes amid the mirrors in the parlour while his room was being prepared for its new occupant ; to which he was promptly conducted by Miss Farringall herself, Barlow having retired for repairs to a very startled system. " I should think your trunk would be here a little after supper," she said as she showed him in, " and I'd advise you to change your flannels when it comes. Excuse my advice on such matters," she added, a delicate little flush stealing to her cheek, " but I'm old enough to be your mother — and besides, it's getting quite cool outside. I think there's nothing so wholesome as warm flannels — warm flannels and deep breathing. Sometimes I think people wouldn't ever die if they'd only change their flannels when the weather changes — and keep on breathing deep," she concluded, drawing a profound breath the while, 190 THE WEB OF TIME her lips locked like a vice. " Supper'U be ready in half an hour." Then she hurried back to her little sitting-room, the kindly bosom rising and falling as she faithfully pursued the wondrous treatment. Gaining the room, she immediately rang the bell, and a moment later the partially recovered butler stood before her. He, too, had had a treatment ; for which cause he breathed as lightly as the demands of nature would permit. " Hand me that box from my secretary, Barlow — that ebony box." He obeyed ; and Miss Farringall held it a moment in her hands, then adjusted a tiny key and turned the lock. A queer little tremor rippled over her lips as the thin fingers groped a moment at the very bottom of the box. Those same fingers showed just the least unsteadiness as they released the dim gold clasp that bound a jet-black frame, which, opening, disclosed the portrait of a man about twenty-two or twenty-three years of age. She held it musingly in front of her a moment. Then she held it out to- wards Barlow, who promptly moved forward like some statue out-marching from its niche, his arms rigid by his side. " You've never seen that before, Barlow ? " " No, mum." " Who do you think it's like. Barlow ? " " I couldn't say, mum." " Don't you think it resembles that visitor of ours — that young man Dr. Wallis brought this evening ? " yOICES of The PAST 191 " Yes, mum," Barlow assented, almost before she had finished her question. " Do you think it very much like him, Barlow ? " " It's his livin' image, mum," said the talking statue. " You can go, Barlow." " Yes, mum," said Barlow, already gone. The woman sat alone in the fading light, the picture still before her. Suddenly she started, started as violently, almost, as if the dead face before her had broken into speech. Again the bell awoke the echoes of the lonely house, and again the servant stalked like a shadow to the door. " Barlow, what did Dr. Wallis say was that young man's name ? " " I couldn't say, mum," answered Barlow, with the air of one who has been charged with murder. Even in the shadow he noticed the whiteness of the lips that questioned him. " Well, find it out then," she exclaimed, her voice rising as she half rose in her chair — " find it out, I say. What do you suppose you're here for, if it's not to know who's in the house ? " " Yes, mum," Barlow responded, his tone now the tone of the convicted. " Never mind that — go and find out the name. Tell him we'll need to know when the postman brings the letters — tell him anything — go now," as the menial vanished in the direction of Harvey's room. It was but a moment till he was back. " It's Simmons, mum — he says it's Simmons." 192 THE WEB OF TIME Miss Farringall was now erect. " What was his father's name ? — his mother Hves alone, he told me. Ask him what was his father's name — this minute, hear." Barlow was back in even less time than before. " Simmons," he said solemnly ; " it seems his father's name was Simmons too, mum." His mistress advanced a step or two towards him ; the faithful Barlow bowed his head like one ready to be offered. " Go back," she said in a low tense tone, " go back and ask him what his father's first name was. I want to know. And if you blunder this time, sir, you'll walk out of my house, mind." " Yes, mum," agreed the man, lifting his eyes devotedly as he spoke, and vanishing into the outer gloom. " Edward, mum," he informed her in a moment, " Edward Simmons — and he says what might you want to know for, mum." A wave of indescribable emotion swept over the woman's face. She walked slowly to the window, gazing blindly out at the encroaching shadows of the autumn night. She saw the lurid sky beyond the city's utmost fringe, still crimson with the gilding of a departed sun, touched with the colour that was fading fast; even as she looked, the once radiant clouds v/ere turning cold and gray, the ashen hue of age displacing the splendour of their transient joy. And the withered leaves, contemptuously tossed by the rising wind, moaned about the knees of many a heartless tree that had once flaunted them so proudly. VOICES of The PAST 193 whispering the story of their beauty to both earth and sky. But the silent gazer saw little of the autumn scene. For the grave and tender eyes were fixed on something far beyond it, far behind, nesthng in the bosom of departed years ; and what they saw was blighted with no decay of autumn, but stood fresh and beautiful in the light of summer. Green fields they saw, and tender bud and opening blossom everywhere, the very clouds beautiful in noble gloom because of the unconquerable sun. And that sun was Love — and the face she saw amid it all was the face of Edward Simmons. Her eyes suddenly seemed to withdraw themselves from the scene without, turning wistfully upon the pictui'e she still held in her hand. Only a moment did they linger there before they were turned again upon the autumn world without. And lo! The blackness of it all, its loneliness, all the pathos of the withered summer, seemed now to rise up before the woman's creative gaze ; the sky, with its mystic tragedy as the glow surrendered to the gloom, the unbannered trees, the hurrying, homeless leaves, the dirge of the mournful wind — all these were deepened and darkened by that other vision of summer glad- ness that now was past and gone. For there is no ministrant to sorrow like the sweet face of some dead happiness; it is June that gives November all its bitterness. Long musing, she turned at last from the window, again summoning the faithful servant. " Barlow," she said, the tone quite low, " go to the 194 THE WEB OF TIME vault — look in that lower left-hand drawer and bring me a parcel of papers there. They're only news- papers," she added, " all tied together ; bring them here." A few minutes later Barlow handed her the parcel. " Shall I light the gas, mum ? " he asked, turning at the door. " No, thank you ; I don't want it — but you can kindle the fire." Then she sat, the papers and the photograph in her lap, till the crackling flame was bright. And again the wistful eyes pored over the past as though it were an open book. Far clearer now she saw it than before. For every leaping tongue of flame babbled of other days while the hearth-fire plied its ancient subtle industry, calling up long-vanished faces as it ever does, rebuilding the ruined past, echoing once again the long silent tones of love — and the panorama of the bygone years passed in a lane of light between the burning eyes and the mystic fire, both knowing, both caring, both sorrow- ing. It was alrnost dark when the spare and slender form rose from the chair, moving to the secretary in the corner of the room. From the lowest compart- ment of it she lifted, very gently, a Httle bundle of letters. Then she picked up the photograph again, extracting an old newspaper from the parcel before her ; a quick glance at its date confirmed what she already knew. Then, with the old daguerreotype and the old letters and the old faded newspaper in her yOICES of The PAST 195 hand, she sank upon a hassock that lay beside the fire — the fire too was old, so old and dear — and she smiled to herself as she settled down in the old girlish way, the lonely blaze greeting her as it flung its glow again upon the flushed and quiver- ing face, as dear to it as in the gladder days of yore. One by one she turned them over — the picture and the letters and the paper — the whole story of her life was there. The shadows gathered deeper and darker as she sat and fondled these precious things, the only real treasure of all her treasure-laden house — but the fire burned on as brightly as in other days, as brightly as if it had never faltered through the years. It was a new sensation that crept about Harvey Simmons' heart that night, such a sensation as can come only to the youth who is denied for the first time the vision of his mother's face. It seemed strange to have said good-night to nobody in the old familiar way, to hear no reassuring sound of voices indistinctly chatting in the distance, as Jessie's and his mother's always could be heard, and to give or hear no final word of mirth or message as the lamp went out and the comfortable couch received him. The room appointed to him was replete with all that might minister to comfort, even rich and elegant in its appointments. How often Harvey had wished his own humble home had boasted such a room, not for himself but for another ; yet, now that he had 196 THE WEB OF TIME come into possession of all he had so often envied, how paltry and insignificant it seemed, how far be- neath what he had imagined — and how gladly he would have exchanged it all for his little room at home, if he might have but again been near the dear ones from whom he had never been parted a single night in all the course of his uneventful life. His eyes fell upon a little table in the corner, generously furnished with materials for writing. It was, in consequence, very late before he com- mitted himself to sleep. Yet he had only written two letters, the first to his mother, a faithful and ex- haustive narrative of every hour since he had seen her last. It was a new experience to him, and he won- dered a little at the almost mysterious ease with which he filled page after page. It was a new-found joy, this of writing — and both intellect and emotion entered into the task with a zest and instinct that surprised himself. The second letter was begun with much misgiving, and after long consideration. For it was to Made- line, to whom, in a kind of way he was quite at a loss to understand, his thought went out in his lone- liness — far more, indeed, than it had ever done when he lived beside her. Much misgiving about this sec- ond letter there was, as has been said ; and yet he felt it could not be unwelcome since its purpose was so far from personal — for its main story was of the little child and the poor family of whom he had come to know through his contact with Dr. Wallis. And he knew Madeline would love to help, in some way l^OICES of The PAST 197 her own delicate judgment would suggest. But be- fore he was through his pen had rather run away with him ; and some of his impressions of the new life about him, with a little, too, that treated of life in general, had sighed itself in a kind of lonely soliloquy through the expanding pages. And he read this second letter over twice, correcting it with great care, a process the first had been denied. His trunk had been duly delivered, as Miss Far- ringall had assured him it should be, and it was with a kind of reverent tenderness that the lonely stranger raised the lid and surveyed all his poor belongings, each one lying where it had been placed by the lov- ing hands that were now so far away. The care-worn face rose again before him as he bended over these last tokens of his mother's devoted care ; and in- stinctively, with a dumb sense that she would have wished it so, he searched first for the sacred book he had seen her place there. He soon found it, and carrying it to where the light might fall upon it, he turned wistfully to the fly-leaf. Still with his eyes fixed on it he sat down on the bed beside him, the dim mist gathering as the poor misguided handwrit- ing looked up at him in all the eloquence of sightless love: " Dear Harvey From his loving mother " was all that was written there. But every character was aflame with fondness, and every word was a vision, bright with tender beauty, fragrant of the un- 198 THE IVEB OF TIME selfish courage that had filled their lowly lives with a gladness denied to many a richer home. The very waywardness of the writing, the lines aslant and broken, enhanced the dauntless love that penned them ; and Harvey's lips were touched to the mute symbols with reverent passion. Still swimming, his eyes fell again upon the page, and he noticed — what he had not seen before — that something had been written at the lower corner. Isaiah 66:13, it said; and a moment later he had found the text. The full heart overflowed as he read : " As one whom his mother com- forteth so will I comfort you." With a stifled sob, and still repeating the wonderful words, he sank on his knees beside the bed. And as he did so there arose before him the vision of other days, long de- parted now, when he had thus knelt for his evening prayer ; a tranquil face looked down again upon the childish form, and he could almost feel the chill of little feet seeking cover while he prayed ; the warm hands held his own, reverently folded together, and amid the stillness that wrapped his heart there floated out, with a silvery sound like that of an evening bell, the tones of the dear voice that had been so quick to prompt his childish memory or to recall his wander- ing thoughts. The hurried ending, the impulsive uprising, the swift relapse into boyish merriment, the plunge into the waiting crib, the good-night kiss, the sudden descent of darkness, the salvo of farewells, the cozy cuddling into the arms of slumber — all these came back to him with a preciousness he had never felt before. [VOICES of The PAST 199 His loneliness, prompted by every reminiscence, slowly turned to prayer. He tried to thank God for all the treasure his soul possessed in the dear ones at home, and to ask for strength to be worthy of love and sacrifice so great. He promised to be true ; a swift memory of his mother's fear lest dormant appetite should prove his foe mingled with his prayer a moment, and was gone. For the whole burden of his plead- ing seemed to revolve again and again about the love- laden text that had taken such a hold upon his heart, till at last he only repeated it over and over before God : " As one whom his mother comforteth so will I com- fort you." Suddenly he paused ; for he felt, though he knew not why, that his mother too was kneeling by the Mercy Seat— distant far, sundered by weary miles, yet he could not dispel the assurance, which warmed and caressed his very life, that another kept her sacred midnight vigil. And as he thought of Jessie's slumbering face, and of the other's, upturned in pleading for her son, a deeper peace than b-^ had known before crept about him, the loneliness vanished like a mist, and but a few minutes passed before he slept the sweet sleep of all homeless lads who trust the keeping of their mother's God. XIX A BRUSH WlfH DEATH IT was quite in vain that Harvey tried to read. For two much-loved faces, one worn and grave, the other bright and hopeful, kept coming and going between him and his book. Another, too, whose setting was a wealth of golden hair. " You seem in a hurry to get on — guess you're going home," broke in a voice from the seat immedi- ately opposite his own in the crowded car. Harvey smiled and laid his book aside. " I'm in a hurry all right," he answered, " though I don't know that looking at one's watch every few minutes helps matters much. But I don't relish the idea of being late." " Student, aren't you ? " asked the man, nodding to- wards a pin in evidence on Harvey's coat. " Yes — I'm just going home for a little visit." " Been long at college ? " " A couple of years," answered Harvey ; " they go rather slowly when a fellow's anxious to get through. Say, isn't this train going at a tremendous pace? What's the matter ? " his voice rising as he clutched savagely at the side of the seat. It was too late for his companion to make reply — already he was being caught into the current of the storm. 200 A BRUSH WITH DEATH 201 What followed defies description. Harvey's first thought was of some irregularity that would last but a moment — he could not realize that the worst had happened. A shrill voice from another part of the car cried out that they were off the rail, but he swiftly rejected the suggestion. An instant later he was as one struggling for his life. The engine had never left the rail and the driver was quite unconscious of the situation. Dragged ruthlessly along, the car leaped and bounded like a living thing : it seemed, like a runaway horse, to be stampeded by its own wild plunging as it was flung from side to side, bouncing almost clear of the road-bed with every revolution of the wheels. Flung into the corner by the window, Harvey braced himself as best he could with hands and feet, dimly marvelling at the terrible length of time the process seemed to last. He glanced upward at the bell-rope, swingly wildly ; but he knew any attempt to reach it would be disastrous, if not fatal. Still the mad thing tore on ; shrieks and cries rose above the din ; parcels and valises were everywhere battering about as if flung from catapults ; one or two of the passengers cried out in plaintive wrath, some as if re- monstrating with a mettlesome steed, others as if ap- pealing for a chance against the sudden violence, Harvey remembered, long after, how he had said to himself that he was still alive — and uninjured — and that all might yet be well, if it would only stop. Confused and terrified though he was, his senses worked with almost preternatural acuteness ; he re- 202 THE IVEB Oh TIME marked the spasmodic eagerness with which men clutched at one another, muttering the while like contestants in a mighty struggle ; the very grotesque- ness of the thing flashed upon his mind an instant, as, the car taking its last desperate bound, he saw strong men flung about like feathers in a gale ; two or three near him, shouting wildly, were tossed to the very ceiling of the car, their limbs outflung as when athletes jump high in air. Then ' the coach was pitched headlong ; the man to whom he had spoken but a moment before was hurled through the spacious window, and the overturning car sealed his lips with eternal silence ; two stalwart men fell full on Harvey's crouching form — darkness wrapped him about as the car ploughed its way down the steep embankment. " This is death," he said involuntarily, and aloud, as the dread descent was being accomplished. Many things — much that could never be reproduced, more that could never be uttered — swam before him in the darkness. A sort of reverent curiosity pos- sessed his soul, hurrying, as he believed himself to be, into the eternal. He was to know now ! All of which he had so often heard, and thought, and con- jectured, was about to unfold itself before him. A swift sense of the insignificance of all things save one — such an estimate as he had never had before — and a great conception of the transcendent claim of the eternal, swept through his mind. Then sud- denly — as if emerging from the very wreck of things, illumining all the darkness and clothing the storm A BRUSH WITH DEATH 203 with a mysterious calm, there arose the vision of his mother's face. A moment later all was still ; blessed stillness, and like to the quietness of death. The car was motionless. But only for a moment did the stillness reign. Then came the wild surging of human voices, like the sound of many waters ; appeal, frenzied fear, tormenting pain, pitiful enquiry — all blended to make it such a discord of human sounds as he had never heard before. It froze his soul amid all the agony of suspense he himself was bearing. For that human load was still upon him, still holding him pinned tight in the corner of the now overturned and shat- tered car; how much more might hold him down, he could not tell. And with this came his first real taste of terror ; the thought of imprisonment beneath the heavy wreckage — and then the outbreaking fire — tore for a moment through his mind. But already he could feel the forms above his own writhing in their effort to rise; one, his thigh fractured, gave over with a loud cry of pain. The other was trying to lift him as gently as he might. Soon both were from above him. The moment that followed thrilled with suspense — Harvey almost shrank from the attempt to straighten himself up lest he might find himself pinned beneath the deadly truck. But he tried — and he was free. And he could see through the window of the door, upside down as it was, the sparkling sunshine, never so beautiful before. With a gasp of joy he bounded towards it — then 204 THE WEB OF TIME stopped suddenly, checked by the rebuke of what he saw about him. For — let it be recorded to the praise of human nature and the credit of sorrow's ministry — every man who was unhurt seemed en- gaged with those who were. Strong, selfish-looking men, utter strangers, men who had sat scowling be- hind their newspapers or frowning because some child's boisterousness disturbed them, could now be seen bending with tender hands and tenderer words above some groaning sufferer, intent only on secur- ing the removal of the helpless from the threatened wreck. Not threatened alone, alas ! For even as they were struggling towards the sweet beguiling light a faint puff of smoke floated idly in about them ; and the first to notice it — not with loud outcry but with hushed gasp of terror — was one unhappy man whom the most desperate efforts had failed to free from the wreckage. But as the car gradually filled with the smoke, and as, a little later, a distant crackling could be heard, the stifled moan became a cry, and the cry at length a shrieking appeal for deliverance from the living death that kept ever creeping nearer. " My God," he cried frantically, " you can't leave me here-t— I'll burn to death," his eyes shining with a strange unearthly light ; " I'll burn to death," he repeated in grim simplicity. Harvey never left him till the all-conquering flame had all but kindled his own garments ; half-blind, soak- ing with perspiration, gasping for breath, he at last turned his back upon the awful scene and staggered A BRUSH WITH DEATH 205 away. The waters of death were now surging about the man — if the unfitting metaphor may be allowed. As he groped his way towards the brow of the up- torn declivity, Harvey stumbled on the silent form of the man who had sat beside him in the coach — a brakeman was hurrying towards it with a sheet. Then dense darkness flowed about, and kind uncon- sciousness delivered him. " You've made as good progress as any man could look for," the doctor said ; " don't you think so, Mr. Nickle? He's been lucky all through, to my mind; two broken ribs, and a twisted elbow, was getting off pretty well — considering what he came through. Another week will do wonders." " It's bad eneuch," rejoined the cautious Scotch- man ; " but it micht hae been waur." "Well, old chap, I guess I'll have to go," the doctor said as he began putting on his gloves ; " just have patience and you'll be all right. What you'll feel most will be the result of the shock — don't get discouraged if you sag sometimes, and feel as if the bottom were falling out of everything. You'll likely have queer spells of depression — all that sort of thing, you know. 'Twouldn't be a bad idea to take a little spirits when you feel one coming on ; and if a little doesn't help, take a little more," he con- cluded, laughing. Mrs. Simmons' face was white and drawn ; but she controlled herself, and no word escaped her lips. 2o6 fHE IVEB OF TIME When the doctor left the room she followed him, closing the door behind her. A few minutes later he returned : " Oh, I've just been thinking over that matter, Harvey," he began carelessly, " and I believe this prescription would be a fully better stimulant," pro- ducing pencil and pad and beginning to write. He remarked how Harvey received the advice — the latter's lips were pale, and the doctor could see them quivering. " Don't fool with the other at all," he added impressively : " I don't believe it would do you a bit of good." Geordie Nickle lingered after the doctor had taken his departure ; but he found it quite impossible to engage Harvey in conversation. " I hae nae doot a' this sair experience'll be for some guid purpose," he began, the face of the saintly man suffused with the goodness of his heart ; " only dinna let it be wasted, laddie. A wasted sickness is a sair thing, an' a wasted sorrow's waur — but there's naethin' sae sad as to look intil the face o' death, wi'oot bein' a dif- ferent man to a' eternity. It's a waesome thing when a soul snatches spoils frae death — an' then wastes them on life, my laddie," earnestness and affection mingling in the eyes that were turned on Harvey's chair. But Harvey's response was disappointing. " If I could only sleep a little better, Mr. Nickle. I'm really all right except for my nerves. Yes, what you say is very true, Mr. Nickle." After one or two equally fruitless attempts, the A BRUSH IVITH DEATH 207 old man seemed to realize the hopelessness of his ef- forts. " Weel," he said pleasantly, " I maun begaein' — yon's the kirk bell that's ringin'. Why, there's David," he cried suddenly, looking out of the win- dow ; " I'll juist gie ye intil Mr. Borland's care. I think yir mither said she's gaein' till the kirk — we'll gang thegither," as the kindly patriarch made a brief farewell, withdrawing to join Mrs. Simmons and guide her to the house of prayer. " Hello, Harvey ! Why, you're lookin' like a morning-glory," was David's salutation as he drew his chair up beside Harvey's. " I jest thought I'd drop in an' look you over a bit when Madeline an' her mother was at church. Ought to be there myself, I know," he went on, a reproachful smile on his face ; " but it's such an elegant mornin' — an' besides, I'm doin' penance. I remembered it's jest two years ago to-day, by the day o' the month, since I traded horses with Jim Keyes — an' I thought mebbe I shouldn't have took any boot — so I thought I'd jest punish my- self by stayin' away from the meetin' this mornin*. How're you keepin', Harvey ? " he concluded ear- nestly, his elbows on his knees as he peered into the patient's face. " I'm not bad," said Harvey — " only a little grouchy. Is that really the reason you're not going to church this morning, Mr. Borland?" he asked, a slight note of impatience in the tone. David might have noticed, indeed, that Harvey seemed ill at ease, and as if he would as soon have been alone. David stared at him. " That there accident must 2o8 THE WEB OF TIME have bumped all the humoursomeness out o' you," he said, grinning. " No, of course it's not — but Dr. Fletcher ain't goin' to preach to-day. That's the real reason. An' he's got a fellow from Bluevale rattlin' round in his place ; can't stand him at all. He's terrible long — an' the hotter, the longer. They say he dives terrible deep ; an' mebbe he does — but he comes up uncommon dry," and David turned a very droll smile on his auditor. " The last time I heard him, he preached more'n fifty minutes — passed some excellent stoppin'-places, too," David reflected amiably ; " but the worst of it was when he come to conclude — it was like tyin' up one o' them ocean liners at the dock, so much backin' up an' goin' furrit again, an' semi-demi-quaverin' afore he got plumb still. That's the principal reason I'm punishin' my- self like this," he added gravely. " Say, Harvey, what's makin' you so kind o' skeery like ? — anythin' hurtin' you ? " Harvey cleared his throat nervously. " I say, Mr. Borland," he began nervously, " would you do some- thing for me ? " David, very serious now, drew his chair closer. " You bet— if I can. What is it ? " Harvey stood up and walked unsteadily towards the table. Then he thrust the little paper the doctor had left into a book. " I wonder if you'd go to the drug-store for me," he began rather huskily, " and get me a little — a little spirits — or something like that; spirits would be the best thing, I think — the doctor spoke of that. I'm just about all in, Mr. Bor- A BRUSH WITH DEATH 209 land — and I think if I were only braced up a little — just to tide me over, you know," he stammered, his courage failing him a little as David's steady eyes gazed into his own. David looked long in silence. Then he rose, and without a word he took Harvey in his arms. Slowly they tightened round the trembling form, the old man holding the young as though he would shelter him till some cruel storm were past. Tighter still he held him, one hand patting him gently on the shoulder as though he were a little child. Harvey yielded to the embrace — and understood. When at length David partially released him, he looked into the face before him. The eyes that met his own were swimming, and David's face was aglow with the yearning and compassion that only great souls can know. " Oh, Harvey," the shaking voice began, hardly above a whisper, " I love you like my own son. Don't, Harvey — for God's sake, don't; kill your mother some other way," and again he drew the now sobbing lad close to his bosom. A moment later he whispered something in Harvey's ear. It was a question — and Harvey nod- ded, his face still hidden. " I thought so," David murmured. " I thought so — an' there's only one way out, my boy, there's only one way out. An' it's by fightin' — ^jest like folks fight consumption, only far harder. That ain't nothin' to this. Jest by fightin', Harvey — an' get- tin' some One to help you. All them other ways — 2IO rHE WEB OF TIME like pledges, an' promises, an' all that — they're jest like irrigatin' a desert with one o' them sprayin'-ma- chines for your throat. I ain't much of a Christian, I know — but there ain't nothin' any good 'cept what Dr. Fletcher calls the grace of God. An' if you think it'd help any, from an old fellow like me — I'll — I'll try it some, every mornin' an' night; 'twouldn't do no harm, anyway," and the protecting arms again drew the yielding form into the refuge of his loving and believing heart. Only a few more sentences passed between the two ; only a few minutes longer did David wait. But when he passed by the church on his homeward way his head was bowed, and his face was like to the faces of those whose lips are moist with the sacramental wine. XX THE RESTORING OF A SOUL " jk ND you think you'll go back to-morrow, /\ Harvey? Are you sure you feel strong X -A. enough, my son ? You look so pale." Harvey's answer was confident enough. But pale he certainly was — and the resolute face showed signs of abundant struggle, and a new seriousness sat on the well-developed brow. " I think life'U be all different to me now, mother," he went on ; "a fellow can hardly go through what I have, without seeing things in a different light. I didn't think so much of it when Mr. Nickle said it, but it's been running through my mind a lot lately — he said what a terrible thing it is for a fellow to snatch spoils from death and then waste them on his after life." " He's a godly man," the mother rejoined mu- singly. " He's been like a light to me in my dark- ness — often I think my heart would have broken if it hadn't been for him. When things looked darkest, and he'd drop in for a little talk, I always seemed to be able to take up the load and go on again. He and Mr. Borland have been good angels to us all," and the sightless face was bright with many a glad- some memory. 211 212 THE WEB OF TIME " Mother, when you speak of darkness — and loads — do you mean — do you mean about your sight ? " His mother reached out, instinctively guided, and laid a thin hand on one of Harvey's. " Do I speak much about loads, my son, and darkness ? " she asked in a gentle voice. " For I've always asked for grace to say little of such things as those." " But you haven't answered me, mother," the son persisted. " Mother," he went on, sitting up straight, his voice arresting her startiingly, " you've been more to me, I think, than ever mother was to a son before. But I know, mother — at least, I think I know — I'm almost sure you've never told me all that troitbles you ; I feel sometimes as if there were some sealed book I've never been allowed to see. Don't you un- derstand, mother ? " " What do you mean, my son ? How could it be so?" " Well, mother," he went on, his voice low and serious, " look at it this way. You know how easily a mother kind of scents out anything like that about a son — just by a kind of instinct. Well, don't you think sons love mothers just as much as mothers love sons ? — and don't they have the same kind of intui- tions ? Don't you understand, mother ? " She drew him closer to her side. " Yes, my son," she said after a long silence ; " yes, I understand, my darling. If I understand anything, it's that. And I'm going to ask you something, Harvey — you'll for- give me, my boy, won't you ? But what you've just 7he RESTORING of a SOUL 215 said opens the door for what I'm going to ask. And I've wanted to do it ever since you came home." Harvey's heart told him what was coming. The very faculty he had been trying to define was pursu- ing its silent quest, he knew. And no movement, no exclamation betrayed surprise or resentment when his mother whispered her trembling enquiry in his ear. Perhaps he had never learned as well the luxury of a mother's love. Once or twice he looked up wist- fully, as though his mother's eyes must be pouring their message into his, so full and rich was the tide of her outflowing love, strong, compassionate, healing. But the curtain still veiled the light of the luminous soul behind — and he realized then, as never before, that his loss had been almost equal to her own. Yet the soulful tones went far to make amends, caressing him with tenderness, inspiring him with courage, as little by little they drew from him the story of the days. " It all went so well for a long time, mother," he said, much having been said before. " Perhaps too well. I got the scholarship, as you know — and then another — and I was elected one of the inter-collegiate debaters. Then I got on the first eleven ; perhaps that pleased me most of all ; and I used to go to the other towns and cities often, to play. And I was so happy and comfortable at Miss Farringall's — she's been so good to me. And I gradually met a lot of nice people in the city ; and I had quite a little of social life — that was how it happened," he said in a minor tone, his eyes on the floor. 214 THE IVEB OF TIME The mother said nothing, asked nothing. A mo- ment later he went on of his own accord. " I don't mean to make excuses, mother," he began, " but I didn't really deliberately break the promise I gave you — and that comforts me a lot. But it was one night I was out at a Southern family's home — they had just come lately to the city, and Dr. Wallis knew them. Well, they had refreshments ; and they had a lot of queer Southern dishes. One was a little tiny thing — they called it a syllabub, or something like that ; I had never heard of it before. And I took it — it had wine in it — and oh, mother," his eye lighting and his voice heightening at the memory, " no one will ever know — it was like as if something took fire. I didn't know what it meant — I seemed so helpless. And I fought and I struggled — and I prayed — and I wrote out my promise to you and I used to read it over and over. And I was beaten, mother — I couldn't help it," he cried pitifully, his voice echoing every note of pain — " and then I felt everything was up and I had nothing more to fight for, and I just — oh, I can't tell you ; it maddens me when I think of it — nobody'U ever know it all. And Miss Farringall tried so to help me — so did Dr. Wallis — but I wouldn't let anybody. I turned on them," he ex- claimed fiercely ; " and I tried to forget about you, mother — I tried to forget about you and Jessie. Then I played the coward. I came back afterwards to Miss Farringall, and I — I borrowed money from her ; " he forced the words Hke one who tells a crime. "And after that " The RESTORING of a SOUL 215 Thus ran the piteous tale. The mother spoke no word for long, staunching the flowing wound as best she could and by such means as only mothers know. And she mutely wondered once or twice whether this — or that other night — had brought the deeper darkness. But when his voice was still ; whpn the poor wild wailing that had rung through it all had hushed itself, as it were, within the shoreless deep of her great, pitying love, she asked him another question : " How much did you borrow from Miss Farringall, Harvey ? " the voice as calm as if no storm of grief had ever swept it. " Five dollars, mother," he answered, the crimson face averted. " But I know one or two things I can deny myself this term — and that'll pay it back ; " the glance that stole towards his mother was the look of years agone. Without a word, dignity in every movement, she rose and made her way to a little bowl that stood on the '^table. From it she took an envelope, her fingers searching it; then she handed him its con- tents, the exact amount. He broke out in loud protest; but she was firm. " You haven't anything there that you can afford to give up," she said quietly, " and we can afford this, dear — ^but not the other. Take it for mother's sake," as she thrust the bill into his hand. It was worn and faded ; but his eyes fell upon it as upon a sacred thing, hallowed by the love and sacrifice and courage that had wakened many a holy vow in his heart be- 2i6 THE IVEB OF TIME fore. As they did now again, this latest token burn- ing the hand that held it, melting the heart that answered its appeal of love. And the mother's tryst began anew ; closer than ever she clung to her unseen Helper ; more passion- ately than before she turned her waiting eyes towards the long tarrying Light. XXI A HEATED DEBATE THE years had left Harvey wiser than when first he entered college. The passing months, each opening the door a little wider, had admitted him farther and farther to the secrets of the new hfe about him — farther too, for that matter, into the mystery of life itself, the great complicated maze of which college life is at once the portal and the type. And as he stood in the main hall of the great Gothic building this bright spring morning, a remi- niscent smile played about his lips as he recalled the day, far distant now, whereon he had first gazed in wonder on the animated scene. For that had been an epoch-marking day in Harvey's hfe. The very stateliness of the surroundings had filled him with a subdued awe he had never felt before, and his breath had come quicker at the thought that he, a humble child of poverty, was really a successor to the many great and famous men who had walked these _halls before him. His gown was faded and rusty now, but he could recall the thrill with which he had first donned it years ago, the only badge of rank he had ever worn. And how fascinated he had been by the restless throng of students that buzzed 217 2i8 THE WEB OF TIME about him that opening day, each intent upon his own pursuit, and all, or nearly all, indifferent to the plain-clad stranger who felt himself the very least among them. Some, with serious faces, had hurried towards the professors' rooms or gravely consulted the time-table already posted in the hall ; while others, oblivious to the portent of the day, had seemed to hail it only as the gateway to a life of gaiety, entering at last upon the long-anticipated freedom their earlier lives had been denied. Not a few had moved idly about, turning blank faces here and there, all unquickened by the stimulus of the atmosphere and the challenge of the hour — dumb driftwood in life's onmoving stream. And some there had been — on these Harvey's gaze had lingered longest — who were evidently there by virtue of a heroism not their own, their plainness of apparel and soberness of mien attesting the struggle that lay behind the opportunity they had no mind to waste. He was opening a letter from Jessie now, handed to him from the morning mail ; and the tide of youth flowed unnoticed about him as he devoured it, still standing on the spacious stair that led upward from the main entrance of the college. The smile on his face deepened as he read ; for the letter was full of cheery tidings, all about their every-day toilful life, quickened as it had been by the good news concern- ing his progress in his studies. " We're quite sukc A HEATED DEBATE 219 you'll get another scholarship," wrote the hopeful Jessie. And then followed the news of the village — much regarding Dr. Fletcher and the church, and a reference to the hard times that were paralyzing busi- ness — and a dark hint or two about the struggle David Borland was having to pull through ; but it was rumoured, too, that Geordie Nickle was giving him a hand, and doubtless he would outride the storm. And Cecil had been home two or three times lately, the letter went on to say — and he and Madeline had been seen a good deal together, and everybody knew how anxious Mrs. Borland was that it should come to something — but everybody won- dered, too, what was coming of Cecil's work in the meantime ; these things the now unsmiling Harvey read towards the close of the letter. And the last page or so was all about their mother, her sight giv- ing as yet no sign of improvement, and her general health causing Jessie no little alarm. But they were hoping for jthe best and were looking forward with great eagerness to Harvey's return when the college year should be ended. Harvey was still standing with the letter in his hand when a voice broke in on his meditations. " Well, old sport, you look as if you'd just heard from your sweetheart," as Harvey looked quickly up. It was Cecil himself, and he stopped before his fellow student as if inclined to talk. For much of the antagonism between the two had been dissolved since both had come to college, Cecil being forced to recognize a foeman worthy of his steel when they i20 THE WEB OF TIME had met on an arena where birth and patrimony go for nothing. A few casual meetings had led to re- lations of at least an amicable sort ; once or twice, indeed, he had sought Harvey's aid in one or two branches of study in which his townsman was much more capable than himself. But such occasions were obviously almost at an end. For the most un- initiated might have diagnosed Cecil's case as he stood that spring morning before the one he had so long affected to despise. A false ideal of life, and of what constitutes life's enjoyment, and a nature pampered from childhood into easy self-indulgence, together with strong native passions and ample means wherewith to foster them, had made their handiwork so plain that he who ran might read. The face that now was turned on Harvey was stained and spotted with marks significant of much, the complexion mottled and sallow, the eye muddy and restless, the voice unnaturally harsh and with the old-time ring departed — such a voice as years sometimes give. Real solicitude marked Harvey's gaze as it rested on the youth before him ; something of a sense of kinship, because of old-time associations — in spite of all that had occurred to mar it — and a feeling that in some indefinable way the part of protector was laid upon him, mingled with his thoughts as he noted the symptoms of the ill- spent years. " From your very own, isn't it ? " Cecil bantered again, looking towards the letter in Harvey's hand. A HEATED DEBATE 221 " You're right enough ; that's exactly where it came from," the other answered, smiling. " I was just thinking about you," Cecil went on ; " I've kind of chucked classes for this session — going to study up in the summer and take the ' sup's ' in the fall. I've been too busy to work much here," he explained with a grimace — " but that's not what I wanted to speak to you about ; some of the fellows asked me to bring you round to a little meeting we're going to have this evening — seven to eight o'clock — we're going to the theatre after it's over. It's something kind of new; Randolph got on to it down in Boston, and they say it's fairly sweeping the country. I believe myself if s the nearest thing to the truth, in the religious line, anybody's discovered yet." " What is it ? " Harvey asked interestedly. " Well, it's a kind of religious meeting, as I said," Cecil informed him — " only it's new — at least it's new here ; it's a kind of theosophy, you know — and many of the strongest minds in the world believe in it," he added confidently. " That's why we want you to sample it." Harvey waited a little before answering. " I've heard a bit about it," he said at length ; " I've read about it some — and I'd advise you to leave that sort of thing alone, Craig." " You're not fair," the other retorted ; " you've never heard it expounded, have you, now ?" Harvey admitted that he had never had that priv- ilege. 322 THE WEB OF TIME " Then I want you to come to-night," urged Cecil > " come and give it a trial anyhow." A little further parley ended in Harvey's consent- ing to attend the gathering of the faithful, not, how- ever, without much candid prediction of the issue. Seven o'clock found him there. The believers, some thirteen or fourteen in all, were already assem- bled, and Harvey's scrutiny of the different faces was swift and eager. Some few he recognized as those of earnest students, men of industry and intelligence. Others, the light of eager expectation on them as though the mystery of hfe were at last to be laid bare, belonged to men of rather shallow intellect, novelty- mongers, quick to yield to a seductive phrase or a plausible theory, men with just enough enterprise of soul to put out from shore, yet not enough to take their bearings or to find a pathway in the deep be- yond. And two or three, conspicuous amongst whom was Cecil, were evidently hospitable to any theory, however fanciful, that would becalm the inward storm of their own making, and promise healing to secret wounds of shame, and absolve from penalties already pressing for fulfillment. Not intellectual unrest, but moral ferment, had been the tide wherewith they had drifted from the moorings they were now endeavouring to forget and professing to despise. The little room was fairly full and Harvey was seated on a small table in the corner. The proceed- ings were opened by a solemn-visaged youth who evidently felt the responsibility of his office. For he A HEATED DEBATE 223 paused long, looking both around him and above, be- fore he proceeded to read some ponderous passages from a book, evidently their ritual. Much of this was punctuated by ejaculatory eu- logies of one, Lao-tsze. Harvey had never heard this name before, but the expounder pronounced it frequently in terms of decided reverence ; and he was at great pains to convey to his hearers his de- pendence upon this man of unpronounceable name as the fountain-head of inspiration and guidance. The solemn disquisition ended, several others added their testimony to the light and comfort this teaching had afforded them, one or two venturing further to expound some doctrines which all seemed to find precious in proportion as they were obscure. Such phrases as " explication of the Divine Essence," " deduction of the phenomenal universe," " unity im- minent in the whole," were freely dispensed, the lis- tening faces answering with the light of intelligence, the light most resolutely produced where the shades were deepest. " Paracelsus" was a name several hastened to pronounce, and familiarly, as though he were an old-time friend. One very small student with a very bespotted face broke his long silence by rising to solemnly declare that since he had been fol- lowing the new light he had come to the conclusion that God was the great " terminus ad quern," taking a moment longer to express his surprise and disap- pointment that all men did not so discern the truth in its simplicity. Another rose to deplore that so little was known 4i4 7HE tVEB OF f/ME of the life of the great and good Lao-tsze, but com- forted his hearers with the assurance that this distant dignitary had been reincarnate in a certain American pdet, whose name he mentioned, well known as a wandering printer whose naked lucubrations were given at intervals to a startled world. This later apostle then received his share of eulogy, after which the ardent neophyte quoted copiously from his works, scattering the leaves of grass among the listening circle. Exhausted, the speaker surrendered the floor to another, who launched into a glorification of the great Chinaman-^and his successor — amounting to a deification. To all of which Harvey listened in re- spectful weariness, for he knew something of one of them at least, and of his works. Suddenly the de- votee introduced the great name of Jesus Christ ; for purposes of comparison alone did he quote the latter name, conceding to the founder of the Christian faith a place among the good and great, but making no attempt to conceal the deeper homage he accorded to the other. This was too much for the visitor, who could hardly believe his ears. Indifference had gradually taken the form of contempt, this in turn deepening to disgust as he listened to what at first struck him as shal- low platitude, descending later to what he esteemed as blasphemous vulgarity. Deeper than he knew was his faith in the One his mother had taught his childish lips to bless ; and, as there rose before him a vision of the humble life that same faith had so enriched and A HEATED DEBATE 22