Louise had given her sister one swift, comprehending look, and stood
quietly enough looking into the window; but her real glance was
sideways, watching Carey and the girl.
“That’s the one! That’s the chicken, Nellie!” she whispered. “Now,
isn’t she a chicken? Don’t you think Harry is right? Turn around and
watch her. They’ve gone ahead so far they’ll never see us now. Look!
Just see her waddle! see her toddle! Aren’t those shoes the limit?
And her fat legs inching along like that! I think she’s _disgusting_!
How can my brother not be ashamed to be seen with her? And down here
on Chestnut Street, too, where he might meet _anybody_! Think if that
Grace Kendall should come along and see him! She’d never speak to him
again. Oh, Nellie, isn’t she _dreadful_?”
“Hush, dear! Somebody will hear you. Yes she’s pretty awful.”
“But, Nellie, can’t we do something about it? Can’t Carey be ordered
not to go with a thing like that any more? Why, even the girls in my
school are talking about them. They call her my brother’s _girl_!
Nellie, aren’t you going to _do_ anything about it? Aren’t you going
to tell father, and have it stopped?”
“Hush, darling! Yes, I’m going to do something—but I don’t know what
yet. I don’t know what there is to do.”
She tried to smile with her lips in a tremble; and, looking down, she
saw that tears were rolling down the little sister’s cheeks.
“Darling! Don’t do that!” she cried, roused out of her own distress.
“Here, take my handkerchief, and brighten up a little. You mustn’t
cry here; people will think something dreadful has happened to you.”
“They can’t think any worse than it is,” murmured Louise, snubbing
off a sob with the proffered handkerchief. “To have my nice, handsome
big brother be a big _fool_ like that! Oh, I’d like to _kill_ that
girl! I would! I’d like to choke her!”
“Louie! Stop! This is awful!” cried Cornelia, horrified. “You mustn’t
talk that way about anybody, no matter how much of a fool she is.
Perhaps there’s another side to it. Perhaps Carey is just as much to
blame. Perhaps the girl doesn’t know any better. Maybe she has no
mother to teach her. Maybe Carey is sorry for her.”
“He—didn’t look sorry; he looked glad!” murmured the little girl,
trying to bring her emotions into control; “and anyhow I can’t help
hating her. Even if she hasn’t got a mother, she doesn’t need to dip
her face in a flour-barrel like that, and make eyes at my brother.”
“Listen, Louie.” Cornelia’s voice was very quiet, and she felt a
sudden strength come to her from the need to help the little girl.
“Dear, it won’t do any good to hate her; it will only do you harm,
and mix us up so we can’t think straight. Besides, it’s wicked to
hate anybody. Suppose you stop being so excited and let us put some
good common sense into this thing. There must be a way to work it
out. If it’s wrong for Carey to go with her, there will be a way
somehow to make him see it. Until Carey sees it himself there isn’t
a bit of use in our trying to stop his going with her. He probably
has got to the place where rouge and powder are attractive to him, or
else perhaps there is more to the girl than just the outside. At any
rate, we’ve got to find out what it is about her that attracts our
brother. And, Louie, do you know I’ve a notion that there’s nobody
but God can help us in this thing? Mother used to say that, you
know, when any big trouble came; and several times lately when I’ve
been worried about things I’ve said, ‘O God, help me,’ and things
have seemed to straighten out right away. Suppose you and I try that
tonight.”
Louise looked up through her tears, and smiled.
“You’re an awfully dear sister, Nellie. I’m glad you came home”; and
she squeezed her sister’s hand tenderly.
“Thank you, lovey; I’m glad I came too, and you’re rather dear
yourself, you know, Lou. I think we’ll come through somehow. Now
shall we go into this picture-show?”
“I don’t believe I feel much like it, do you, Nellie?” said the
little girl, hesitatingly and studying a picture on the bill-board
outside the theatre. “Look! That’s one of those pictures with cabaret
stuff in that daddy doesn’t like us to see. I don’t want to go in.
Those girls in that picture make me think of her.”
“I’ll tell you what; let’s go home and get a good dinner for Carey
and the rest, and perhaps we can think of a way to keep him home
tonight and have a good time.”
So home they went, and got the dinner, and waited half an hour after
the usual time; but no Carey appeared that night until long after
the midnight hour had struck. When at last he came tiptoeing up the
creaking stairs, trying not to arouse anybody in the house, his two
sisters lay hand in hand listening and both praying, “O God, show us
how to keep Carey away from that girl, and make him a good man.”
Carey slept late on Sunday morning, and came down cross, declining
utterly to go to church. Cornelia and Louise went off alone
sorrowfully. Carey had lounged off in the direction of the drug
store, and the father had a nervous headache, and decided to nurse it
up lest it keep him away from work on the morrow. Harry volunteered
to stay home and get dinner.
The sermon was about prayer, very simple and interesting. Cornelia
did not remember having listened to many sermons in her life. Somehow
this one seemed unique, and struck right home to her need and
experience. The preacher said that many people prayed and did not
receive because they had failed to meet the conditions of answered
prayer. Even Louise sat up and listened with earnest eyes and flushed
cheeks. Here was something she felt would help the Copley family if
they could only get hold of the secret of it. Mother prayed, and
Mother had great faith in prayer; but none of the rest of them had
ever specialized along those lines. Unless perhaps father did, quiet
father with all his burdens and disappointments.
These thoughts flitted through the minds of the two daughters as
they sat listening intently, reaching out for the help they needed.
The preacher said that there were many promises in the Bible
concerning prayer, but always with a condition. The first was faith.
One must believe that God hears and will answer. The second was
will-surrender. One must be ready to let God answer the prayer in
_His_ way, and to leave that way to Him, believing that He will do
what is best. Then one must pray with a free heart, out of which hate
and sin have been cast; and he quoted the verse: “If thou bring thy
gift to the altar, and there rememberest that thy brother hath aught
against thee, leave there thy gift before the altar, and go thy way;
first be reconciled to thy brother, and then come and offer thy gift.”
Louise cast a fleeting, questioning glance toward her sister. Did
that mean that she must forgive that hateful, bold Dodd girl? But the
speaker went on.
There were gifts for which one may ask with a definite assurance
of receiving if one comes asking with all the heart, namely, the
forgiveness of sin, the strength to resist temptation, the gift of
the Holy Spirit. And one may always be sure that it is God’s will
that other souls should be saved, and so we can pray always for
others’ salvation, knowing that we are not asking amiss.
But there is a condition in which it is the privilege of every child
of God to live, in which one may be sure of receiving what one asks,
“If ye abide in me, and my words abide in you, ye shall ask what ye
will, and it shall be done unto you.”
The two sisters listened most carefully to the simple, clear
description of the life that is hid with Christ in God, the life that
lets Christ live instead of trying to please self, and that studies
daily the Word of God and keeps the word constantly in mind. And the
preacher spoke with confidence about answers to prayer for daily
needs, as if he had known great experience in receiving.
On their way home Louise, walking along with her eyes on the
sidewalk, asked shyly.
“Nellie, do you s’pose that’s all true, what he preached about?”
“Why, yes—of course,” said the elder sister, hesitating, scarcely
knowing whither her words were leading her; “why, certainly,” she
added with belated conviction and a sense that, if it were so, she
had placed herself in a very foolish position; for she had never
lived as if she had believed it, and the little sister must know that.
“Well, then,” with the quick conclusion of childhood, “why do we
worry? why don’t we do it?”
“We—could,” said her sister thoughtfully; “I don’t know why we never
did. I guess we never thought about it. Shall we try it?”
“It won’t do to _try_ it,” said the matter-of-fact little girl,
“because he said we had to believe it, you know; and trying is
holding on with one hand and watching to see. We’ve got to walk out
with both feet and trust. I’m going to!”
“Well, so will I,” said Cornelia slowly, her voice low and almost
embarrassed. It seemed a strange topic to be talking about so
familiarly with a little girl, her little stranger-sister; but she
could not let the child get ahead of her. She could not dash the
bright spirit of faith.
“That’s nice,” said Louise with satisfaction. “I’ll tell Harry too.
I guess he will; boys are so funny. I wish he’d been in church. But
say, Nellie, we can be happy now, can’t we? We don’t need to worry
about Carey any more; we can just pray about it and it will all come
right.”
Cornelia smiled, and squeezed the little hand nestling in hers.
“I guess that’s what we’re expected to do,” she said thoughtfully.
“Yes, and I think God’ll show you what to do about that—that—chicken
girl, too, don’t you, if you ask Him?”
“I guess He will.”
The whole family, of course excepting Carey, who telephoned that he
wouldn’t be home till late, went to church that night, and lingered
to be introduced to some of the church people by the cordial minister
who had come down to the door to detain them. They finally went home
cheered in heart both by the earnest spiritual service and by the
warm Christian fellowship that had been offered them.
That night as Louise nestled into her pillow, she whispered:
“Nellie, have you been shown yet? I mean anything about Carey and
that girl.”
Cornelia drew the little girl into her arms, and laid her lips
against the warm, soft cheek.
“I’m not quite sure, dear,” she answered. “I’ve been thinking.
Perhaps it will seem queer to you, but I’ve almost come to think
perhaps we ought to get to know her.”
“Oh-h-h!” doubtfully. “Do you really think so? But she’s—why, she’s
just _awful_, sister!”
“I know, dear, and I’m not sure yet. But you see we can’t do a thing
till we really get acquainted with her. She may be simply silly, and
not know any better. She may not have any mother, or something; and
perhaps we could help her, and then, if we get acquainted with her,
we would perhaps be able to make Carey see somehow. Or else we might
help her to be—different.”
“Oh-h! But how could we get acquainted with her?”
“Well, I don’t know. We’d have to think that up. Do you know her
name?”
“Yes, it’s Clytie Amabel Dodd. They call her Clytie, and it makes me
sick the way they say it. She—she smokes cigarettes, Nellie!”
“She does!” exclaimed Cornelia. “Are you sure, dear? How do you know?”
“Well, Hazel Applegate says she saw her on the street smoking with a
lot of boys.”
There was a long pause, and the little girl almost thought her sister
was asleep; then Cornelia asked, “Do you know where she lives?”
“No, but I guess Harry does. He gets around a lot delivering
groceries, you know. Anyway, if he doesn’t, he can find out.”
“Well, I’ll have to think about it some more—and—pray, too.”
“Nellie.”
“Well, dear?”
“Nellie, you know that verse the minister said this morning about if
two of you agree to pray for anything you know; why couldn’t you and
I do that?”
Cornelia pressed the little fingers close. Then it was all very
still, and presently the two slept.
The next afternoon, while they were getting dinner and working about
in the kitchen, the older sister suddenly asked:
“When is Carey’s birthday? Isn’t it this week? The twenty-fifth,
isn’t it?”
“Yes,” said Louise gravely. “It’s Thursday. Are you going to do
anything? O Nellie!” in consternation. “You’re _not_ going to invite
that girl _then_?”
“I don’t know,” said Cornelia. “I know it wouldn’t be very pleasant
for us, but I thought perhaps it would be a good excuse. There isn’t
really any other that I know of.”
The little girl was silent for a moment.
“Wouldn’t it make her think we thought—I mean wouldn’t she get a
notion we liked—That is, wouldn’t she be awfully set up—and think we
wanted her to go with Carey?”
“I’m sure I don’t know, dear, and I don’t suppose that part of it
really matters if we just get this thing sifted down and find out
what we’ve got to do. We simply can’t say anything about her to Carey
till we’ve somehow come in contact with her in his presence, or he
will think we’ve been snooping about watching him; and he will just
be angry and go with her all the more.”
“I know,” sighed the little girl.
“If we have her here,” went on the older sister thoughtfully, “we’ll
at least know what they both are doing; and, if she doesn’t act
nicely, we’ll have some ground to influence Carey.”
“Yes,” answered the little girl with another sigh. “Have you thought,
Nellie, perhaps he won’t like it?”
“Yes, I’ve thought that too, but I guess it won’t really matter much.
It may do good, you know.”
“But he might not come home to supper that night. Or he might get
real mad, and get up and leave while she’s here.”
“Well, I don’t see that that would really do any harm. I guess we’ve
got to try something, and this seems kind of a plain way to do. If
Mother were here, it would be better. Mother would know how to give
dignity to the occasion. But I guess for Mother’s sake I’ve got to do
something to either improve her or get rid of her before Mother comes
home. It would kill Mother.”
“Yes, I know. What do you suppose father’ll say?”
“Well, I don’t believe I’ll tell father, either, only that I’m
going to have a girl here to supper. It would only worry him if he
knew she went with Carey; and you can always depend on father to be
polite, you know, to anybody.”
“Yes,” said Louise soberly. “He’ll be polite, but—he won’t like her,
and she can’t help knowing it, no matter how thick-skinned she is;
but maybe it’ll do her good. Only I’m afraid Carey’ll be mad, and say
something to father or something.”
“No, I don’t think he will, not before a girl. Not before any girl.
Not if I know Carey. He may say things afterwards, but we’ll have to
be willing to stand that. And, besides, what can he say? Aren’t we
polite to one of his friends? We’re not supposed to know anything
about her. When it comes down to facts, little sister, we don’t
really know anything about her except that she dresses in a loud way,
chews gum, and talks too loud on the street. The other things you
have only heard, and you can’t be sure they are true unless you see
them yourself, or some one you trust perfectly has seen them. I know
she may get a notion in her head that Carey is crazy about her if
we single her out and invite her alone, but I’ve about decided it’s
the only way. Anyhow, she’s let herself in for things of that sort
by getting herself talked about. I believe we’ve got to do something
quite radical, and either kill or cure this trouble. I’ve thought
about asking that Brand fellow too, and maybe some one else, some
other girl. But who would it be?”
Louise thought a moment, then she clutched her sister’s hand eagerly.
“Nellie! The very thing! Invite Grace Kendall! She would make them
all fit in beautifully. I’d hate awfully to have her know our Carey
went with that Clytie thing; but I guess there isn’t any other way,
and somehow I think a minister’s daughter ought to understand, don’t
you? And help?”
Cornelia was still struggling with her pride.
“Yes,” she said thoughtfully. “I guess you’re right, little sister.
Grace Kendall would understand—and help. I think God must have given
you that idea. We’ll invite Clytie and Brand and Grace Kendall, and
then trust God to show us how to make them all have a good time
without suspecting what it’s all about. We’ll just tell Carey that he
must come home early because we have a birthday cake and a surprise
for him—make him promise to be there, you know; and then we’ll take
him into the living room, and they’ll be there waiting. If he thinks
it strange and says anything about it afterwards, we’ll tell him we
invited all the people we knew were his friends, and we couldn’t ask
him about it beforehand because it had to be a surprise party. Now,
little sister, I think you’ve solved the problem with your bright
idea; and we can decide on that.”