CHAPTER XXVII.

FLOSSY'S PARTY.

MARION on her way from school, had stopped in to learn, if she could,

what shadow had fallen over Ruth. But before anything like confidence

had been reached, Flossy Shipley, came, full of life and eagerness.

"I am so glad to find two of you together," she said, "it expedites

matters so much. Who do you think can be going to give a party next?"

"A party!" said Marion, "I am sure I don't know. I am prepared for any

sort of news on that subject; one would think there had been a party

famine for years, and lost time was to be made up, to see the manner in

which one entertainment crowds after another, since the meetings

closed. It is a mercy that I am never invited, it would take all my

leisure, and a great deal of note paper to prepare regrets. Who is it?"

"I haven't the least idea that you could guess, so I am going to tell

you; it's just myself."

Both of her listeners looked incredulous.

"I am," she said, gleefully. "I am at work on the arrangements now as

hard as I can be; and Marion Wilbur, you needn't go to talking about

note paper and regrets; you are to come. I shall have to give up Eurie,

and I am sorry too, she would have helped along so much; but of course

she cannot leave her mother."

"How is her mother?" asked both girls at once.

"Oh, better; Nellis says the doctor feels very hopeful, now; but of

course, Eurie doesn't leave her, and cannot for a long time. Nellis

Mitchell is a splendid fellow. How strange it is that his interest in

religious matters should have commenced with that letter which Eurie

sent him from Chautauqua, before she had much interest herself."

"Nobody supposed that he had, I am sure," Ruth said; "I thought him the

most indifferent of mortals."

"So did I, and would never have thought to pray for him at all, if Eurie

had not asked me to, specially. Did you know he led the young people's

meeting last evening? Did splendidly, Grace Dennis said. By the way,

isn't Grace Dennis lovely? Marion, don't you think she is the most

interesting young lady in your room?"

"I think you don't enlighten us much in regard to that party," Marion

said, her cheeks growing red under that last question.

"I ought to be on my way; my tea will be colder than usual if I don't

hasten; what scheme have you now, Flossy, and what do you want to do

with it?"

"Ever so many things; you know my boys? Well, they are really young men;

and anyone can see how they have improved. Some of them have real good

homes, to be sure; but the most of them are friendless sort of boys.

Now, I want to get them acquainted; not with the frippery people who

would have nothing to do with them, but with some of our real splendid

boys and girls who will enjoy helping them. I'm going to have the

nicest little party I ever had in my life; I mean to have some of the

very best people there; then I shall have some of the silly ones, of

course; partly because I can't help it, and partly because I want to

show them what a nice time reasonable beings can have together, if they

choose. Nellis Mitchell is enlisted to help me in ever so many ways, and

Mr. Roberts will do what he can, but you know he is a stranger. My great

dependence is on you two. I want you to see to it, that my boys don't

feel lonely or out of place one single minute during the entire

evening."

"But I am afraid I shall feel lonely, and out of place," Marion said;

"you know I am never invited to parties."

Flossy laughed.

"Wouldn't it be a strange sight to see you feeling out of place?" she

asked, gaily. "Marion, I can't conceive of a place to which you wouldn't

do credit."

Whereupon Marion arose and made a low courtesy.

"Thank you," she said, in mock gravity. "I never had a compliment

before in my life; I shall certainly come; there is nothing like a

little flattery to win people."

"Don't be nonsensical," pleaded Flossy; "I am really in earnest. Ruth, I

may depend upon you? I know you are not going to entertainments this

winter, but mine is to be a small one, compared with the others; and you

know it will be unlike any that we have had at our house."

Ruth hesitated.

"When is it to be?" she asked, her cheeks glowing over her own thoughts.

"I shall be engaged on Friday evening of next week."

"It is to be on Wednesday."

"Then I will come. And if I play, Marion, will you sing to entertain the

unusual guests?"

"Of course," Marion said, promptly. "I never sang in company in my life;

but do you suppose there is anything I will not do for Flossy's guests,

after what she has just said? Only, Flossy, I shall have to wear my

black cashmere."

"Wear your brown calico, if you choose; you look royal in it," Flossy

said, turning a beaming face on Marion. She had heard her sing, she

knew what a rare musical treat it would be to those boys of hers. So

this was Flossy's last departure from the beaten track.

Those who are familiar with the imperative laws and lines which

circumscribe the fashionable world will realize just how marked a

departure it was. It was a remarkable party. The very highest and most

sought after of the fashionable world were there, a few of them, and

John Warden was there in his new business suit of grey, looking and

feeling like a man.

Flossy's boys were all present, and those who knew of them and their

associations and advantages, marvelled much at their ease of manner and

perfect propriety of behaviour. How could they have learned so much?

Flossy did not know, herself, but the boys did.

Her exquisite grace of manner, her perfect observance of all the rules

and courtesies of polite society in her intercourse with them, had

produced its legitimate fruit; had instinctively inclined them to be

able to treat her with the same sort of grace which she freely and

everywhere bestowed on them.

Had she not met them on the street, in the very heart of Broadway when

she was walking with some of her fashionable friends? Had she not taken

pains to recognize them with a specially cordial bow, and if near

enough, with a deliberate speaking of their names, being sure to

slightly emphasize the unusual prefix "Mr."

These and a hundred other kindred trifles, so small that they are not

noted among the qualifications for Sabbath-school teachers, so powerful

for good, that they often turn the current of a human life, had been

carefully regarded by Flossy, and to-night she was triumphant over her

success. She had not only helped her boys to be true to their

convictions of right and dignity, not only to take on true manliness of

decision in regard to the all important question of personal religion,

she had helped them to be gentlemen. There is many a faithful teacher to

whom, thinking of these minor matters, it might be said:

"These ought ye to have done, and not to have left the other undone."

From first to last, Flossy's party was a success. To Ruth and Marion it

was a study, developing certain curious features which they never

forgot. Marion had her own private bit of interest that not another

present, save Gracie Dennis knew about. She was not a party goer. Even

so small a gathering as this, was new to her. She looked upon all these

people with a keen interest; many of them she was meeting for the first

time. That is, she was being introduced to them, and receiving their

kindly greetings; for Flossy had succeeded in gathering only those, who

whatever they might think of her choice of guests, were much too well

bred to exhibit other than pleasure while they were her guests.

But only Marion knew that she was destined to meet these people again,

and probably often, under different circumstances; the probability was

that many of them would be her own guests, would receive and return her

calls, would fall into the habit of consulting her in regard to this or

that matter of church interest that would come up; not one of them

dreamed of such a thing; and when she tried to lead them into

conversation on matters pertaining to the church interests, they looked

their surprise that she should have such intelligent knowledge

concerning these matters.

Altogether it was an evening full of private fun on her part. There was

to be such a curious turn about of position, she realized so fully that

it would be such unutterable surprise to the people, that it was

impossible not to feel amused, and to treasure up certain words and

phrases that would sound very queerly to the speakers thereof, if they

remembered them when those said changes became manifest to the eyes of

the world.

There was more than fun to be gotten out of the evening; she watched the

young people with eager interest. She was to be a great deal to these

young people; she must try to understand them, to win them. She wanted

to be a help, a comfort, a guide. She had wonderful plans and aims. She

blessed Flossy in her heart for this opportunity to study her lesson

before it should be time to practise it.

That same Flossy afforded her help in another direction. There was no

hiding the hold that she had gotten, not only on those young men of her

class, but those of their friends that they had brought within her

influence. There was no disguising the fact, that among the young ladies

she was a favorite; one whom they liked to have among them, whom they

liked to please. How had she done it all?

"I can never be Flossy," Marion said to herself, an amused smile

hovering around her lips meanwhile, at the thought that she should have

a shadow of desire to become their little Flossy. "But it is worth while

to steal her secret of success, if I can, and practise it."

Close watching revealed a good deal of the secret; as much of it at

least as could be put into words. Evidently the little lady had the

power of making other people's interests her own for the time being; of

impressing the one with whom she came in contact, with a sense of his

own importance, in her eyes; at least she was interested in what he said

and did, and in what interested him. She could enter into the minute

details of a matter which did not concern her in the least, with such

apparent interest and desire to know all that was to be known about it,

that one could hardly help the feeling that certainly the subject was

worthy of attention.

Then her face spoke for her; it could cloud in an instant in sympathy

with any sort of trouble or anxiety, and sparkle with happy smiles in

the very next second over some bit of brightness that was mentioned.

"She is a blessed little hypocrite, and that is the whole of it," was

Marion's mental comment. "That sort of hypocrisy is worth studying. It

is as natural to Flossy as that lovely pink on her cheek; but I am

afraid I should have to acquire it; I don't feel interested in other

people's affairs; now, that is a fact. Why should she? In the first

place, I know it is natural for her to like to please people; that is

the beginning of it; she has that advantage over me, for she was always

so, and I always _wasn't_ so. But she has something else; she did not

care once to please such as these rough boys of hers, at least they were

rough when she started the refining process; how she had worked for

them; I never realized it so much as to-night. It is just this: she has

sanctified her power of pleasing, and put it to a grand use in fishing

for souls. Meantime, I have some degree of power of that kind, though it

doesn't show in the same way. But I am not sure I have thought of it,

with a view to using it for such work; also, I dare say one can

cultivate an interest in other people if they try. I mean to try. I

know one way in which I can please people, I can sing."

Whereupon she immediately sought Ruth and proposed music, herself going

after Rich. Johnson to come and sing tenor, and bidding him bring a

friend to sing bass. Then such music as they had that evening, was

certainly never heard at a party at Mr. Shipley's house before.

The music room was a little bower of a spot at the left of the parlors.

It was not only the music room but the flower room; at least there were

vines and plants and blooming flowers in the windows, festooning the

curtains, hanging from lovely wire baskets, a profusion everywhere.

Thither went Ruth, Marion, and the two young men who went in silence

from very astonishment over this new invitation. In silence and

embarrassment, believing in their hearts that they could not sing at

all. As for Marion, she knew better. She had stood near them in

Sunday-school.

Ruth swept the piano clear of all sheet music and substituted the Bliss

and Sankey Gospel hymns, and Marion passed a book to each, naming a

page, and instantly her full, grand voice joined Ruth's music. Very

faint were the tenor and bass accompaniments; but as the first verse

closed and they entered upon the second, the melody had gotten

possession of their hearts, and they let out their voices without

knowing it, so that when the piece was ended, Marion turned with a

bright face, and said:

"I haven't enjoyed a song so much in years. What a splendid tenor you

sing, Mr. Johnson." To herself she said: "There! I'm improving; I

honestly think that. But twenty-four hours ago, I should have kept it to

myself. It isn't hypocrisy, after all: it is sincerity."

Another, and another piece was tried, the music room meantime filling;

for Flossy had brought in her train others of the boys. And at last, as

the last verse of "Hold the Fort" rang out, Marion turned from the piano

to discover that utmost silence prevailed in the rooms where chatter had

been before, and every available place in and about the music room was

filled with hushed listeners, while those who could not get in, sat or

stood outside in silence and wrapt attention. Such music as that at a

party they had never heard before.

"You and I are a success, I think," Marion said brightly, as she linked

her hand in Ruth's arm, when they left the piano.

"We are doing our duty beautifully."

"Are you complimenting yourself because you are afraid no one will

perform that office?" Ruth asked, laughing.

"No, I'm doing it because I have begun to be sincere. I've made a

discovery to-night. Ruth, it is you and I who are hypocritical, in

refusing to say what we think about people, when it would sound real

nicely, and would doubtless make them feel pleasanter and happier."

Meantime, Ruth had her lesson also that she had been learning. What a

trial parties had always been to her! How haughtily she had stood aloof

enduring with annoyed heart, and oftentimes with curling lip,

sillinesses that she could not avoid, listening to conversations and

joining in monosyllables when obliged to do so, that drove her to the

very verge of patience, not once imagining that there was any help for

her, any hope of stemming the current, or in any way changing the

accepted course of things.

She was learning. Several times during the evening it had been her

fortune to stand near Evan Roberts and join in the conversation which

he was carrying on. Each time she was amazed and thrilled to see with

what consummate skill and tact he turned the current of thought towards

the vital question of personal religion. Always with an easy familiarity

of expression that made one feel and realize that to him it was a matter

of course, and as natural to be talked about, as the sunshine or the

moonlight.

Wondering over this peculiarity of his, once as they talked together she

referred to it.

"I can conceive of parties being less of a trial to you than to many of

us, because of the ability you have of turning the conversation to some

account."

He smiled brightly. "They are not," he said. "I have often looked

forward to an evening gathering with eager interest and thankfulness,

because of the opportunity for meeting some there whom I could not catch

elsewhere and saying a word for my Master. But, Miss Erskine, you speak

of 'ability,' I simply use my tongue on that subject as on any other

worthy of thought."

"But don't you think it requires a peculiar sort of tact to be able to

bring in such subjects in a manner calculated to do any good?"

He shook his head, "I should say rather, it required a sincere heart,

and an earnest desire to interest a soul. We depend too much on tact and

too little on God's spirit. 'Open thy mouth and I will fill it,' is a

promise that applies to more places than a prayer-meeting, I think. What

we need most to overcome is the idea that there is anything wicked in

talking about religion in an everyday tone, as we talk about other

topics of absorbing interest."

"There are different ways of going to parties," Ruth said to herself in

a musing tone as she turned from him, and she wondered if she could ever

get to feel that she might even go to a party occasionally, with the

glory of God in view. This started a train of thought that made her turn

suddenly back to Mr. Roberts with a question.

"That doctrine wouldn't lead you to be a constant frequenter of parties,

would it?"

He shook his head.

"By no means. And there are parties many of them, which, as a Christian

man, I could not attend at all. We must guard against a temptation to do

evil, that good may come."

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The Chautauqua Girls At Home · 第 27 / 28 章