MRS. VERNON ATTENDS A MOVING-PICTURE SHOW AND FINDS IN IT A GREAT LESSON
UNTHOUGHT OF BY THE AUTHOR
The lobby of the San Luis Obispo moving-picture house was thronged, and
there was a crush at the ticket office. As Regan and his party pushed
their way to the entrance, the ticket seller was announcing that the
house was sold out.
To get through this unheard-of crowd Mr. Regan was forced to use his
elbows freely. Mrs. Vernon and his family, according to his directions,
followed him in close single file. None of them had an opportunity to
notice the posters and the pictures of various scenes in the much
heralded play. Had the lobby been less thronged, it is doubtful whether
they would have attended the performance.
“To accommodate all,” cried a strong voice as they reached the ticket
taker, “there will be another performance at four o’clock sharp; and
until a quarter to four positively no more seats will be sold.”
At two-thirty to the second, but a few minutes after the Regan party had
seated themselves, the lights went out and the “News of the Week” was
flashed upon the curtain. The assembled crowd, filling every seat, had
not come for the “News of the Week”; hence they were in no wise
disappointed when it was taken off, with most of the news left out. The
manager with a view to the second performance was shortening his
program.
There was a moment’s pause, and then there flashed upon the screen the
words, “You Hardly Can Tell”; whereupon everybody sat up and adjusted
himself for the promised treat.
Perhaps the only exception was Mrs. Vernon. Seated between Agnes and
Louis, she was affectionately watching now one, now the other, and
rejoicing in their eager joy.
The story at the first moved slowly, a close-up being given of a few of
the leading characters, including first and foremost the fair Vivian.
“Isn’t she sweet!” exclaimed Agnes breathlessly.
“She has a nice face,” returned Barbara, raising her eyes momentarily to
the screen and then turning them once more upon Agnes.
Suddenly the girl’s face changed from admiration to merriment.
“Oh, look! Ain’t he funny!”
Mrs. Vernon did look and gasped.
There grinning upon them all with a fatuous face, made still more
fatuous by the arrangement of his hair, was her old friend—and more
than friend—John Compton! There came back vividly to her the memory of
their last meeting, something over ten years ago, when she had parted in
sorrow and he in anger, and, as he said bitterly, forever. She was glad
to see his face once more—glad and disappointed. She had expected more
of him. His name by this time should have been known far and wide, not
as a wearer of the motley, but as a writer, a thinker, a leader of men;
and why had he disappointed her expectations? At the moment a feeling of
remorse came upon her. She meditated.
“I was just. But was I kind? It is true I could never bring myself to
marry a man who refused to believe in God. But was I not brutal in the
way I refused him? Possibly, if I had been gentle and patient, he might
have been brought to the truth. Forgive, O my God, the offenses of a
proud and unthinking youth.” Thus meditating she was suddenly brought
back to the present by a roaring and laughing and stir that were little
short of tumult. Agnes jumped to her feet, and remembering herself, sat
down again exclaiming, “Oh! oh! oh!” Louis had risen uttering yelps of
delight, and remained standing until a justly aggrieved man behind him
dragged him back to his seat.
Mrs. Vernon raised her eyes and saw Bobby Vernon!
“O God! O my God!” she exclaimed, jumping up herself and for a moment on
the point of rushing up the aisle to catch her Bobby in her arms. Her
long discipline of self-restraint, however, asserted itself. She
reseated herself, and catching a hand of Agnes in her own, squeezed it
until the child winced.
Yes, it was her own Bobby. The twisted mouth, the bellhop uniform, the
serio-comic face—these were all, in a way, no matter of surprise to
her; for Bobby, as no one knew better than herself, was a born mimic.
But he was alive! Bobby was alive! “O God!” she whispered, “there is a
faith that can move mountains. Blessed be Thy name!” She followed the
picture now, but in a way almost unheard of. It was to her a long, sweet
meditation. Over and over she murmured, “My son that was dead has come
to life again!” “With God all things are possible.” “Oh, my son, my
son!” Tears coursed down her cheeks, tears of joy incredible. But no one
noticed her. All were absorbed in the play, and when the lights were
turned on and the performance over, Agnes was astounded beyond measure
at Barbara, who embraced her almost violently and said:
“It was the sweetest, most touching thing I ever saw. It has taught me
never to fail in trusting in God.”
Now Agnes thought it was the most mirth-provoking thing she had ever
seen, and, as to trusting in God, that lesson, like the flowers that
bloom in the spring, had nothing to do with the case.
Before leaving the theater Mrs. Vernon, excusing herself, had a few
words privately with the manager.