IV

Arriving early at the ball park they found their seats and John

continued talking as the crowd assembled. On many Sunday afternoons

they had taken long tramps, discussing all manner of things. Moore was

a prodigious reader of poetry and made it his practice to commit to

memory a certain number of lines every day. Politics, too, interested

him seriously. He always spoke with deepest reverence of the founders

of the republic, referring to them familiarly as though they were still

living. Between the cheers to which he vociferously contributed his own

voice, he rambled on comfortably and happily, satisfied that he had a

sympathetic auditor.

“There’s Bill Trumbull--hello there, Bill! Well, to tell the truth,

Grace, I don’t get much out of this new poetry. Flimsy stuff; doesn’t

satisfy you somehow. The times call for another old Walt Whitman. That

bird had ideas. He certainly hit some grand old truths. ‘Produce great

men,’ he says; ‘the rest follows.’ Just as easy! Wow! There’s our team

coming out now!” (prolonged cheering) “Well, there’s the old saying

that the time brings the man. Can’t tell but there’s a future president

right here in this crowd!”

“It might be you, John!” remarked Grace, laughing at the serenity with

which he returned to his subject after joining in the uproar.

“No, Grace; I’ve chosen the chief justiceship!” he said, swinging round

at her. “Isn’t that Daisy Martin?--Fred Ragsdale with her. Hello, Fred!

and if, there ain’t old Pop Streeter! Greetings Pop! No, sir; the times

call for men and we’re going to produce a fine new crop right out of

this generation here present.”

Moore was enjoying himself; there was no question of it. And Grace was

experiencing a grateful sense of security in John’s company. He was

paying her his highest compliment, and she knew that the money for his

excursion to the capital had been earned by his own labor. Her girl

friends at the university had tormented her a good deal about John’s

attentions, which were marked by the shy deference and instinctive

courtesy with which he treated all women. He was not a person to be

flirted with; Grace had never in the prevalent phrase “teased him

along.” She respected him too much for that, and, moreover, he was not

fair game. Any attempt to practice on him the usual cajoleries and

coquetries would have sent him away running. When a girl visitor at the

university, meeting John at a dance, had referred to him as a hick,

Grace had resented it on the spot, informing the surprised offender

that John Moore was the finest gentleman on the campus.

John was not wholly silenced by the spirited opening of the game.

“Too bad Crump’s not here. Hurt his leg last week in practice. Thought

he’d make it. Break his heart not to be in the game. Thompson in his

place. You know Thompy? He’s a wonder on the trap drum. Wow! Illinois

got the ball. Where was I? Oh, yes! I read Landor last summer--Walter

Savage; a theological student from New York, working along with me

out in Kansas, put me on to Landor. Quite a man--Landor, I mean. The

theolog’s a bully chap, too, for that matter. Look at that! No; sending

’em back. Wow! That’s first blood for us! Well, you might like Landor

if you took a whack at him. That referee’s awful fussy. Wonder where

they got him. Remember that day we read ‘The Passing of Arthur,’

sitting on a log by that gay little creek in the woods? I’ve thought

a lot about that and the way you _cried_. Yes; you did, Grace; and I

guess I shed a few tears myself!...”

In moments of despair when Indiana’s fortunes were low, John’s optimism

evoked laughter from his neighbors, for he possessed in good measure

the homely humor which is indigenous to the corn-belt.

Before the game ended it had occurred to Grace to ask John to go home

with her for supper. After they had joined in the demonstration for the

victorious Hoosier team and had made their way to the street she went

into a drugstore and called her mother on the telephone. Mrs. Durland

replied cordially that she would be delighted to see John; it was too

late to put on any extras but any friend of Grace’s was always welcome.

It would serve to ease the situation she had left behind her to take

John home, Grace reflected, and moreover, she was glad of an excuse for

seeing more of him.

“Of course I’ll be glad to break bread with you. I’ll be glad to see

your folks again. If you’re not too tired, let’s walk. Fine zippy air!

Well, that was sure some game! I nearly died an unnatural death about

seven times in the last quarter, but we managed to pull through. Let’s

see, what were we talking about?”

He let her into a great secret as they crossed the park toward the

Durland house. He had seen Judge Sanders, the senior member of one of

the best law firms in the capital and a university trustee, who had

offered to take him into his office.

“Wants me to come in January,” John explained. “Says they’ll guarantee

my board and keep for running errands and attending to collections; and

I can go on studying and be ready for my exams in the spring just the

same. So I’ll be in the city for keeps after Christmas. Grand man, the

Judge. Found I was washing automobiles at night to pay for my room over

Westlake’s garage and he just couldn’t stand it. There’s a friend, I

say!”

He waited for her to laugh and laughed with her. It was enormously

funny that among other jobs he washed automobiles on his way to the

chief justiceship!

“Nothing can keep you back, John. You’re like the men we read about,

who strike right out for the top and get there and plant their flag on

the battlements.”

“Don’t say a word! There’s luck as well as hard work in this business

of getting on. All summer I used to think about it--out in the fields

in Kansas. A big, hot harvest field’s a grand place for healthy

thought. I say, Grace, life’s a lot more complicated than it used to

be. Things all sort o’ mixed up since the war.”

“You really believe the world’s so different, John? Everybody’s saying

that and the papers and magazines are full of stuff about the changes

and knocking our generation.”

“Don’t let that talk throw you! It’s up to all of us to sit tight on

the toboggan and wait till she slows down. There’s a lot of good in

this grand old world yet. By the way, it was hard luck you had to quit

college. Excuse me for mentioning it, but I just wanted you to know I

was sorry you left.”

“Oh, it’s all right, John. I miss the good times but there’s no use

crying. I’m ashamed now, though, to think how I just fooled along. I

ought to have got more out of it than I did.”

“You don’t know how much you got,” he replied quickly. “Kind of a

mystery what we get and what we don’t. We got to keep braced for

anything we bump into. When the war came along I thought that was the

end of me so far as going into the law was concerned, but being shot at

by the Kaiser sort o’ made me mad. I wasn’t going to let a little thing

like that stop me; so my life being providentially spared, I thought it

all out on the ship coming home--on the deck at night with the stars

blinking at me. I’ve got health and a fair second-rate head and I’m

going to give the world a good wrestle before I quit.”

“Fine!” she exclaimed, noting the lifting of his head as he swung along

in the gathering dusk. “You make me ashamed of myself, John. I think

I’ve begun to drift--I don’t know what I’m headed for.”

“We all think we’re drifting when we’re not! It’s in the back of our

minds all the time that we’re aiming for something,” he replied; “we

don’t fool ourselves there!”

“I hope you’re right,” she said, pensively. “But I’ve wondered a

lot lately about myself. Do you suppose there’s anything wrong with

me--lack of ambition, maybe?”

He paused abruptly the more emphatically to dispose of her question,

which had a deeper meaning than he knew.

“Don’t be foolish, Grace! You could keep up your college work if you

wanted to--there’s a way of doing that, and get your degree. Suppose

you thought of that--and teaching?”

“Yes. But I don’t feel any strong pull that way. I’m in a French class

and I mean to keep that up. But before I was off the campus I was all

keyed up to jump right into things. I want experiences--not teaching or

anything like that--but to be as close to the heart of things as I can

get!”

“Not a bit of fault with that! I’d trust you to find yourself anywhere.

You’re too fine a girl ever to get lost in the shuffle. I guess you’ll

learn a lot in Shipley’s; you see all kinds of people there every day,

and as Aleck Pope says the proper study of mankind is man--also woman!”

In spite of herself the unhappiness with which the day had begun had

stolen into her heart again. It had betrayed itself in her speech, the

eagerness with which she appealed to Moore for approval and sympathy.

She was contrasting what he was saying with what Trenton had said the

previous night. No two men could be more unlike--Trenton the man of the

world, with a hint of cynicism in his attitude toward life; John Moore,

a son of the soil, with all his ideals intact, viewing life with hope

and confidence.

V

Grace had not been mistaken in thinking that John’s presence would

exert a cheering influence on the household. It was clearly written

in the faces of Mrs. Durland and Ethel that they believed Grace was

not beyond redemption so long as she was capable of appreciating the

sterling worth of a high-minded and ambitious young man like Moore.

John was not without a sense of the fitness of things. When Mrs.

Durland and Ethel showed a disposition to maintain the conversation

on lofty heights John indulged them for a time and then concentrated

upon Stephen Durland. Farm machinery seemed to John a subject likely to

interest the silent head of the house. Durland was soon painstakingly

answering Moore’s questions as to the possibility of further reducing

the man power required in crop production.

“I’ve hopped the clods since I could reach a plow handle,” said John,

“and it does seem to me that with the tractor coming in----”

Durland delivered what amounted to a condensed lecture on the subject,

spurred on by John’s sincere interest and practical questions.

“Thank you, Mr. Durland. I’ve been wanting to get an expert opinion on

those points for a long time. I tell you,” he said glancing round at

the others, “it does tickle me to run into a man who really _knows_.”

“Father’s an authority on those things,” said Grace proudly. “He reads

everything that’s written on mechanics.”

“Stephen _ought_ to know!” remarked Mrs. Durland with a sigh which

Grace translated as signifying that it was too bad that his knowing

really profited him so little.

“We’re so sorry,” said Mrs. Durland, when the cold ham, baked potatoes

and canned peas had received attention and Ethel brought in a bread

pudding--“it’s a great grief to all of us that Grace had to leave

college. It meant so much to her. But her spirit about it all has been

fine.”

“Well,” remarked John, after he had met Ethel’s apology for the pudding

with the assurance that it was his favorite of all desserts--“Well,

I’m not sure it isn’t a good thing for Grace to go into business for

awhile. I argue that things somehow work out for good in the long run.

Her English and the sociology courses were what interested her most;

and being in a big place like Shipley’s and running into all sorts and

conditions of folks the way she’s got to is bound to have a broadening

effect. It’s right along the line of things she’s keenest about.”

“But, Mr. Moore, what we don’t like is the unfortunate contacts with

people who may not be--_wholly_ desirable acquaintances,” suggested

Ethel.

Grace frowned. It was ungracious of Ethel to draw John into the

discussion of a subject that had been a matter of contention in the

family. But John, having convinced Mrs. Durland of his appreciation of

her hospitality by accepting a second helping of the pudding, met the

situation promptly.

“Well, now Miss Durland, who’s going to draw the line between the

desirable and undesirable? Now I’m not saying that we haven’t a right

to choose our friends; but for me, I like all kinds. Why, on that farm

in Kansas where I slept in the hay mow for the sake of the ventilation

and to study the constellations through the cracks, a fugitive burglar

crawled in one night and we nearly scared each other to death! But I

made a friend of that poor chap. Tucked him away and fed him for a

couple of days. Had a letter from him last week. He’s away up in Canada

working in a lumber camp. Now sleeping in the hay with that poor devil

didn’t do me any harm. Maybe I did him some good! He swore he wasn’t

guilty, so my conscience was easy about not calling up the sheriff and

turning him over. Give everybody the benefit of the doubt; that’s my

idea!”

It was not Ethel’s way to give any one the benefit of the doubt. Mr.

Durland covered a queer little chuckle by pretending to cough. Grace

tried to change the subject; but Ethel was not to be thwarted in her

attempt to elicit from John an expression of disapproval of Grace’s

course in becoming a salesgirl.

“That’s a good story, Mr. Moore, but when you think of a girl like

Grace, being _numbered_ and put in with girls who’ve had nothing like

her advantages--that’s what I meant. Not that Grace won’t be equal to

the test, but----”

“Well,” John interrupted, “I’ve never been in these big stores much but

this morning while I was trying to get my eye on Grace I saw all those

girls stepping round and I thought what a fine looking lot they were!

And all busy and right on the job! Now there’s that Miss Kirby--was

that the name, Grace?”

“Yes,” Grace answered, strongly inclined to giggle, now that the

innocent and well-meaning John had brought Irene to the table.

“You take a girl like that,” said John warming to his work, “moving

around like a duchess, and with that way about her that makes you

_know_ she’s onto her job! I’ll bet there’s lots of ’em just like her.

I say you’ve got to hand it to ’em. I tell you, Mrs. Durland, while

we’ve got girls like Miss Kirby and Grace Durland I’ll say America’s

safe! Wasn’t it nice, Grace, the way Miss Kirby fixed it for you to get

off. You could see she was pleased clear through to have the authority!”

“I don’t think--” began Ethel; but scenting battle, Mrs. Durland rose

from the table.

“You and Mr. Moore go into the parlor, Grace. Ethel and I will

straighten up out here.”

“Not on your tin-type!” John protested. “I just love to dry dishes. You

just let me take a hand. I’ll pay for every plate I smash!”

As he refused to be denied Grace found an apron for him and they made

merry over the dishwashing.

While they were in the midst of it Ethel came to the door to say that

Grace was wanted on the telephone. Ethel’s manner of conveying the

information prepared Grace for Irene’s voice.

“Can you talk a minute? I had a telegram from some friends of ours this

afternoon. They wanted to be remembered to you; that’s all. I think

your particular friend will stop on his way east. Tell me, did you get

in bad?”

“Oh, it’s all right now,” Grace replied. “I’ve got company and we

mustn’t talk.”

“I understand perfectly. I’m spending an evening at home for a change

and I just thought I’d let you know our gay cavaliers hadn’t forgotten

us. Is your company exciting?”

“Just nice. You met him this morning.”

“I’d guessed it. And you took him home for supper, like the good

little girl you are! Well, it’s a joy to meet one of the unvarnished

occasionally. I may try to take him away from you; just hand him that!”